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Wow Coren’s writer was lame and missed the list of posts he needed to make. He knew he heard his name, and it really bothered him that people had to use a title of instructor or Captain, while at the academy when Firebrand showed up, he looked from Sasko over to the Space Viking.
He couldn’t help but grin and quickly covered his hand with his mouth, rubbing the stubble on his chin, to try to mask the fact that he was holding back a laugh. Firebrand knew what she was doing, in so far that she was from a backwater (to the Corellian) world in Wild Space. As far as being an instructor went? Coren was pretty easy going, or at least he would claim he is. Show up, be aware, participate and attempt the drills, and you were fine.
Seeing her with the beer, he nodded. “It really is, ‘Rin. Are you going to be checking out the Symposium?” She was Rin because he could never master the AE deal. He wanted to filter people into that, but who was he to tell them what to do? After all, he was in here the gala because he didn't care for the tactics, he flew with a fighter Wing, was the XO, but that life was behind him. 'Hornet' the call sign he used to have was mostly retired.
Orick grinned as he thought about how to answer the question, " Well it was more of a pickup and drop off kind of job, if you get my meaning." He didn't want to get into the details, mostly because he couldn't remember them all. He was sure that the other man had forgotten him over the years.
He watched as [member="Anija Ordo"] and [member="Anastasia Rade"] exchanged greetings, he was glad that Ana had the chance to see her friend. He gave a nod in reply and any words he was going to say because he was cut off by the announcement that the panel was starting. He wondered if there would be time for more conversation with Anjia later.
" We don't want to miss anything." He said as they entered the hall. He wasn't sure where to sit, there were so many unfamiliar faces and they all seemed to know each other, he thought ti might be best to let Ana's popularity be his guide tonight. Two seats along the back row caught his eye and he steered them towards them. He knew that they wouldn't miss any of the lecture, but it also gave them the ability to slip out quicker if she wanted to do something else as the night moved along.
Well, it was certainly different than the forest around the Betna homestead, that was for sure. Grinning slightly to herself at that thought, she looked around the gardens and took a few moments to just listen to the sounds and take in the scents of the various plants. She then looked up at him and smiled. "Different, but I like it.." she replied softly to his question. "It's... relaxing, i guess." She shrugged a bit then. "Were we going to head inside and listen at all, or just hang out here?" She smiled a bit mischievously at him and smoothed a few wrinkles out of the skirt and tunic she wore.
She gave Coren as smile and a slight bow of her head as he approached and greeted her. Aerin did not mind his name for her, in fact it was quite endearing, "No, I think I would only be a hindrance in there. Although I had tactical abilities, if you place me on horse back, with cavalry to lead. I am more then aware of the capacities of my mount and my men, in ships however a novice. Even though tactics can be transferable I know nothing of ships and their capacities". Aerin a hardened warrior of Midvinter knows the smell of war, blood that runs red on the ground and corrupts the soil. "Although I could listen and learn I suppose". she added.
Aerin looked into his face, quite a handsome face she noticed, but than so many men of the galaxy have, it is all about the heart and nobility for her regardless of the looks. She wondered what kind of man Coren is, a sense of darkness flickered within his force presence which did not worry her, she had been in the company of more darker souls and lived to tell the tale as they say. Such a paradox is the mind set of the Valkyri, steeped in noble values yet brutal in war or to those that wrong her, she still can hear the scream of the man that had mocked her over her father's death, as he fell to his death at Crystal Falls after she had physically picked him up and threw him over the railings.
The Admiral stood, straightened his uniform coat, and headed to the podium. He nodded politely to Jorus, who was the MC of the event evidently. He had also seen his old friend Siobhan Kerrigan in the crowd, which was nice.
“Ladies, gentlemen, thank you for coming, and for allowing me to speak on this very interesting occasion. I am Admiral Friedrich Stahlmann, formerly of the ODF and especially of the Galactic Republic. I have served for the last fifteen years in various capacities, and seen all the triumphs, tragedies and horrors of war in that time.”
“I will try not to be overly academic or technical in this discussion, but I find it important that we all understand some basic terminology first. Fleet combat, especially in this age, has some terms which are both amusingly imprecise and questionably vague. Thus, when I use the term ‘capital ship’, I am referring to single ships over 1000m metres – Heavy Cruisers, Destroyers and Battlecruisers. When I use the term ‘escort’ I refer to Corvettes, Frigates and Cruisers – vessels under 1000m. Likewise ‘attack craft’ refers to small, 1-10 crewed ships encompassing fighters, interceptors and bombers as well as smaller gunships and dropships.” “Now, with that boring glossary out of the way, we can begin.”
“The last ten years has seen great upheaval and chaos in the political sphere, occasioned not only by near constant war, but by other events of great dramatic importance. The Clockwork Rebellion, the Rapture, the Masks Incident. All of this has fuelled and expanded ship production and tactics.”
“If we compare the era of the Galactic Civil War, differences with the present become evident. There is a greater emphasis on ships providing all-around firepower. In the era of the Civil War it was rare indeed to find capital ships mounting much in the way of defence firepower. Attack craft filled that role, along with escorts. Today we find it very unusual for the opposite to occur. Another significant change is the decreasing of size of ships. In the Civil War and afterwards the presence of Dreadnoughts were, if not common, then at least noticeable. Today by contrast, we find it rare for a ship of 2000m to take the field, and ships larger than that almost unknown. Part of this is of course an assessment of the skills necessary and the resources required for such a thing. However, I feel that tactically things have moved away from these ships being especially useful, a point I will return to later.”
“The greatest change since that classical era is the steady ramping of armaments upwards, and the mounting of more powerful weapons on ships. Hypervelocity Cannons, once reserved for ground-based installations, now find themselves on capital ships in clusters of two, three, even four. Heavy ion and turbolasers, once relegated to a couple of heavy clusters, now comprise the majority of a ship’s weaponry. Finally the vast expansion of ‘long-range’ weaponry, accurate to several light seconds, has made its presence felt. All of these changes has fundamentally altered the way fleet battles are orchestrated.”
“As many of you are aware, I commanded the Republic fleet in several hard battles against the Sith Empire and more lately the one Sith. I have noticed that heavy, long-range and special weapon firepower has been the key to success recently. But how effective has it been? Looking at the list of great battles since the reformation of the Galactic Republic to the present, I note with interest the lack of capital ships actually destroyed in battle. Many receive damage, it’s true, but there seems to be an interesting lack of destruction despite the noted increase in firepower. Whilst defences have increased, I would not say that revolutionary changes have occurred. So why the apparent disparity? That is something I will leave you to decide for yourselves.”
“Finally, before I open the floor to my colleagues, I will share one final observation, and that is the role of manoeuvre and placement. With the increase in firepower and the apparent increase of defences, speed and precise targeting have become all the more important. A faster ship can get behind a slower ship and punish it if it is unsupported. In this, and not wanting to be too partisan, I will say that there has been a development by some states recently which can be pointed out as a failure. The creation of heavily armed vessels with specific limited firing arcs combined with slow speed is a significant weakness which I think explains the absence of vast battlecruisers. Any ship not able to react on its own to threats from its weakest areas is not a good ship design, and I foresee this particular avenue of development to be rejected soon.”
“Thank you all for your kind attention, and I hope this brief introduction has been helpful. I will be answering questions later and also be available for discussions on a more face-to-face level if desired. Thank you.”
Larraq sat in his chair and stared down the filling Symposium. The glass in his hand, much to his disappointment, had turned out to be some form of juice or cyder. Passively, the man watched the drama between the two former republic officers play out as he pulled out his datapad and tapped away a series of commands that would leave the wait-staff scurrying. By the time [member="Friedrich Stahlmann"] had taken a seat beside him, and received a nod of greeting from the Mandalorian, a young attendant was scurrying onto the stage to bring the Mandal Hypernautics executive a mug of what he promised would pass for coffee.
One sip was all it had taken for Larraq to become even more displeased by the quality of catering the Astronautical Acadamy had been able to afford. Had he not known any better, he'd have sworn the students had been left to provide the food for their own guests. A quick glance at the retreating attendant's young form and Larraq was no longer quite so sure on the matter. <They wouldn't...> He thought to himself as [member="Jorus Merrill"] took the stage and greeted the crowd.
Larraq had few interactions with Jorus. In fact, he was struggling to remember if he had ever actually met the man in person before. But he was the undisputed sibling of fringer Rave Merrill, the woman who had not so long ago decided to up and leave the galaxy. Once upon a time, she had signed a contract with Mandal Hypernautics that had helped propel the company forward by leaps and bounds. He had later rewarded her for the kindness of the contract when he renovated a Corvette for her a few years back... But had not heard from her or her shiny, beskar plated ship since that time.
He was still reminiscing about the lost Merrill and wondering how much like his sister Jorus would be when the man took his seat and was replaced by one of the former Republic officers. Admiral something, if Larraq had heard him right.
Friedrich Stahlmann said:
“Ladies, gentlemen, thank you for coming, and for allowing me to speak on this very interesting occasion. I am Admiral Friedrich Stahlmann, formerly of the ODF and especially of the Galactic Republic. I have served for the last fifteen years in various capacities, and seen all the triumphs, tragedies and horrors of war in that time.”
“I will try not to be overly academic or technical in this discussion, but I find it important that we all understand some basic terminology first. Fleet combat, especially in this age, has some terms which are both amusingly imprecise and questionably vague. Thus, when I use the term ‘capital ship’, I am referring to single ships over 1000m metres – Heavy Cruisers, Destroyers and Battlecruisers. When I use the term ‘escort’ I refer to Corvettes, Frigates and Cruisers – vessels under 1000m. Likewise ‘attack craft’ refers to small, 1-10 crewed ships encompassing fighters, interceptors and bombers as well as smaller gunships and dropships.”
“Now, with that boring glossary out of the way, we can begin.”
Larraq sipped his coffee as he vaguely listened to the man speak. Yup. Republic Admiral. Though Larraq still wasn't quite sure if that was a current or former rank. It had been so long since he had seen a Republic or Levantine Navy Uniform up close, he wasn't sure he could tell the two apart anymore. All the same, he smiled to himself as the Admiral shared his system of classifying ships with the audience. The man viewed... nearly the entire Mandal Hypernautics inventory as little more than escorts.
Larraq immediately wrote him off as an idiot.
Friedrich Stahlmann said:
“The last ten years has seen great upheaval and chaos in the political sphere, occasioned not only by near constant war, but by other events of great dramatic importance. The Clockwork Rebellion, the Rapture, the Masks Incident. All of this has fuelled and expanded ship production and tactics.”
“If we compare the era of the Galactic Civil War, differences with the present become evident. There is a greater emphasis on ships providing all-around firepower. In the era of the Civil War it was rare indeed to find capital ships mounting much in the way of defence firepower. Attack craft filled that role, along with escorts. Today we find it very unusual for the opposite to occur. Another significant change is the decreasing of size of ships. In the Civil War and afterwards the presence of Dreadnoughts were, if not common, then at least noticeable. Today by contrast, we find it rare for a ship of 2000m to take the field, and ships larger than that almost unknown. Part of this is of course an assessment of the skills necessary and the resources required for such a thing. However, I feel that tactically things have moved away from these ships being especially useful, a point I will return to later.”.
Larraq sipped his coffee and the idiot talked. The more of the latter to occur, the more the former wished his coffee was something with a little more kick to it. History lessons were not a thing he had much patience for, especially when they were vague, opinionated, and utterly ignored reality. The Mandalorians had been using the same Kandosii-class Dreadnoughts for thousands of years. True, they were not the same powerhouses that they had originally been and had received vast and numerous technological upgrades over the years, but the heart of the design had remained a constant. Then there was the Imperial-class Star Destroyer... The design had resurfaced over a dozen times in the last dozen years alone. Each time in the hands of a different government or military that had slapped its own technological improvements over the several hundred year old original design.
To him, it seemed more like the designs had remained fairly consistent. Weapons and shields and support technology evolved at a fairly consistent rate and, of all things, the number of point defense placed upon capital ships had remained the most consistent aspect of starship design. True, there was a slow creep upwards in some designs, but most ships with an abnormal number of defensive guns were designed to fill a specific role...
Friedrich Stahlmann said:
“The greatest change since that classical era is the steady ramping of armaments upwards, and the mounting of more powerful weapons on ships. Hypervelocity Cannons, once reserved for ground-based installations, now find themselves on capital ships in clusters of two, three, even four. Heavy ion and turbolasers, once relegated to a couple of heavy clusters, now comprise the majority of a ship’s weaponry. Finally the vast expansion of ‘long-range’ weaponry, accurate to several light seconds, has made its presence felt. All of these changes has fundamentally altered the way fleet battles are orchestrated.”
“As many of you are aware, I commanded the Republic fleet in several hard battles against the Sith Empire and more lately the one Sith. I have noticed that heavy, long-range and special weapon firepower has been the key to success recently. But how effective has it been? Looking at the list of great battles since the reformation of the Galactic Republic to the present, I note with interest the lack of capital ships actually destroyed in battle. Many receive damage, it’s true, but there seems to be an interesting lack of destruction despite the noted increase in firepower. Whilst defences have increased, I would not say that revolutionary changes have occurred. So why the apparent disparity? That is something I will leave you to decide for yourselves.”
With great effort, Larraq struggled to suppress a sigh. Instead, he tried to focus on finishing off his coffee and shooting a glare at one of the orderlies waiting behind the curtains of the stage. With what Larraq could only assume was a yelp from this distance, the young orderly scurried off to find the Mandalorian Businessman a fresh cup of coffee. Should the cadet fail to placate him with a fresh supply of caffeine before the Republic idiot finished his little speech, Larraq could very well see himself pointing something other than a pair of eyes in his direction.
His attention, whether he like it or not, returned to the older man's speech as he began ranting about extended range weaponry. Instantly, Larraq understood why the Republic had been having such a hard time fighting the Sith. Vaguely, as the man droned on, Larraq wondered if the Galaxy would have been better off had he simply opened fire on the Republic Capital all those years ago... Nuking Coruscant would likely have gotten him in a great deal of trouble. Frell, simply pointing weapons at the planet and telling the Jedi idiot to obey or suffer had been enough to get him removed from the bridge by the short-sighted woman that led that particular operation...
But in the end, a war with the Mandalorians would have likely hardened up the Republic enough that they'd have been able to stand on their own two feet when the Sith came knocking at their door once again.
As it was, apparently no one had taught the Republic Admiralty to dodge. Every word the man spoke only served to make the point all the clearer for Larraq.
Friedrich Stahlmann said:
“Finally, before I open the floor to my colleagues, I will share one final observation, and that is the role of manoeuvre and placement. With the increase in firepower and the apparent increase of defences, speed and precise targeting have become all the more important. A faster ship can get behind a slower ship and punish it if it is unsupported. In this, and not wanting to be too partisan, I will say that there has been a development by some states recently which can be pointed out as a failure. The creation of heavily armed vessels with specific limited firing arcs combined with slow speed is a significant weakness which I think explains the absence of vast battlecruisers. Any ship not able to react on its own to threats from its weakest areas is not a good ship design, and I foresee this particular avenue of development to be rejected soon.”
“Thank you all for your kind attention, and I hope this brief introduction has been helpful. I will be answering questions later and also be available for discussions on a more face-to-face level if desired. Thank you.”
And in a moment, the idiocy of the Republic Admiral was confusing once again. The man clearly understood the importance of a small, agile ship when combating a large enemy using heavy ordnance. He appeared to understand the importance of complex maneuvering and positioning a light ship outside of an enemy's optimal arc... but also made it sound as if getting a turret to fire in all directions was a simple thing. Larraq had seen more than one ship with a spinal-mount or a broadside battery shred its opposition...
But then, with a click, it all came into place and Larraq understood the argument the Admiral was trying to make. He understood its strengths, its weaknesses, and its flaws. The Republic Admiral believed in a balanced ship. In his mind, there was no point in designing a ship with specific strengths and weaknesses. If a ship had a weakness at all, the design was a failure. The man wanted each ship to hold its own against each enemy ship with no regard to specialization. To Larraq, it seemed obvious that the man was incapable of seeing beyond this.
It was a common enough condition. Many men in a position of enough power to make decisions that effected a nation's military suffered from it. He, just like every one of them, was an idiot that had failed to evolve beyond smashing one rock into another.
<Not that I'm one to talk...> Larraq thought to himself. With a start, he realized that in the absence of a cup of coffee to drink, his hand had found its way to the small rock that he kept within his breast pocket. He stared at it now as he rolled it between his fingers. Cold and smooth. <But I've had quite enough of playing with Rocks.>
His eyes darted up as a figure approached him. He forced a smile to his face as he realized that it was the young attendant bringing him a fresh cup of coffee. Returning the chunk of asteroid to his breast pocket, Larraq nodded at the boy and took the mug from him once his hands were free again.
As the Republic Admiral took his seat, Larraq put the mug to his lips and drank deeply of the warm, bitter liquid. He waited for the next speaker to be announced and, quietly, hoped that it wouldn't be him.
"Thank you, Admiral Stahlmann. I've just received word that our next speaker is on his way; he'll be here any moment. Retired Republic Supreme Chancellor [member="Popo"], an accomplished fleet commander, will be addressing us."
Sitting by himself near the front of the hall, as far forward as a mere student could get, Sam was typing notes on a datapad as [member="Friedrich Stahlmann"] spoke. He was trying very hard to take his schooling at the academy quite seriously. While he loved the life he was raised in, just a few weeks at the academy had him certain that he had made the right choice to become legitimate.
He had originally debated on doing starfighter piloting or captaining a large vessel. After the speech by Friedrich, he was fairly sure he was going to go with the capital ships. His mind thrilled at the thought of holding the multi-vector geometry of three-dimensional battles over many kilometers of space.
As that part of the symposium concluded, and while they were still waiting for the next speaker, Sam turned to some of the homework from his First Contact class, taught by [member="jorus merrill"], and began to write.
OOC: I am still here, I just don't know many people IC and in this environment Sam isn't very adventurous.
Symposium Hall
[member="Jorus Merrill"] [member="Captain Larraq"] @All Y'all Other Folks
A bulk slithered out from the sidelines and into view. Popo was massive, even for a Hutt. Clad in heavy, beskar armor and held aloft by microrepulsors alone, the well known CEO of Tenloss made his way up a conveniently placed ramp and behind the podium.
His armor was pitted and scarred in places, courtesy of the fighting he'd seen, but all was cleaned and polished. His wrists and shoulder showed empty weapon mounts where he'd removed the blasters and E-web normally carried. Where others avoided wearing armor to prevent a hostile appearance, Popo wore his openly out of necessity. Why?
No one wanted to cart around a multi-tonne Hutt.
As he took the podium, two things became clear. First, a mask of seriousness and severity lay upon the Hutt's face at this moment of due gravity. Second, at some point in the last few minutes the Hutt had found frosted donuts and, in his haste, hadn't quite cleaned off the powdered sugar entirely.
"Friends, students, colleagues," he began, the white powder on his upper lip only just visible. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Popo, CEO of Tenloss and former Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic."
"Other speakers will more than likely come to speak on fleet compositions and ship design. They'll speak on formations and the courage necessary to face the enemy under fire. They'll speak on the horrors of war and the necessity of achieving victory or, at the least, of preventing defeat," the Hutt said, gesturing with one hand, oblivious to the powdery handprints he'd left on the podium and the breast of his armor. "I, however, am here to discuss what most will find surely boring: Logistics. Yes, it lacks the luster of firing weapons on the enemy and, yes, it lacks the thrills of a speech dedicated to courage, bravery, and skill at arms. I ask, however, that you hear me out, because what I say is not only important, but... what you least expect."
"Logistics are important for any military and any navy. The ammunition you use, the spare parts you stockpile, the clothes you wear, even the food you eat all rely entirely on logistics. Battles may fall to those that fight them and the courage of those in the heat of the struggle, but wars... those are won not with cannons and starfighters, but with transport ships and supply lines. Therefore, it is highly crucial to protect those logistical support units and lines. Think of the navy and the army as a body. It's rather easy to do. Now, consider those supply lines as its veins and vessels, the transport ships moving along them as its blood. The beating heart within is not the government nor is it the seat of faction power for that is the brain atop. No, the beating heart is logistical command, directing the ebb and flow of supplies, of the blood the body needs. Therefore, when waging war, there are two clear targets for attack: The Brain and the Heart."
"The Brain is simple to find and easy to assault. Simply look for the government's seat of power. The Sith Lord or the Jedi Grandmaster. Maybe it's a Senate like the Republic or perhaps a benevolent dictator like a Lord or Lady Protector. Destroying the brain destroys the command echelon. It confuses the body, delays a strike, and leaves the entirety open to following blows. Sometimes, the body recovers quickly, others it recovers not at all. In either case, striking the Brain should be a key goal in any war. The second key goal is the Heart. The Heart coordinates supplies throughout the body and controls all shipping within the enemy's space. However, while striking the Brain directly causes massive amounts of damage as a whole, striking the heart directly is either nearly impossible or highly discouraged."
"But why is it discouraged? I just spoke of destroying the enemy's supply lines and logistical capabilities, did I not? Yes, this is the goal, but to strike the heart is to leave yourself open. The brain may or may not recuperate, but the heart almost always does and almost never in the same place. For those of you in the audience accustomed to knife fighting and melee combat, you may have already guessed at the path I'm alluding to," Popo said with a small chuckle, which for a Hutt still boomed slightly. More white and powdery handprints were apparent on the podium now along with a prominent one across the bottom of his chin where he'd paused, a look of careful thoughtfulness on his face. "You must bleed your opponent. You kill the heart by attacking its extremities."
"Striking supply lines is the obvious route here, using raiding fleets and ships to hit convoys to destroy or capture supplies. There are, however, more options in such things. Use your intelligence officers and your spy networks. Discover where the enemy has supply caches and depots and hit them. Determine where the staging areas are, where the assembly areas are located, and target them as well. Does your foe produce their own ships and munitions? Chances are they don't, but are supplied by private companies contracted to the government. Is CEC producing medical supplies for the enemy's war machine? Is Mandal Hypernautics providing food and rations for their troops? Is ATC producing warships for their navy? Confirm this information and, if true, strike the factories and supply depots. Without food and parts and weapons and ships your enemy cannot survive, much less fight. You will slowly bleed the Heart dry and, without supplies to direct, the Heart ceases to pump and the body begins to wither."
"Now, conversely, you must protect your own Heart. To protect the Brain is the obvious reaction and so I will not discuss that topic. The Heart, however. Lest you wish to be bled dry as I have explained, it requires defenses. Even something as simple as armed convoys can help keep your war machine alive a little longer, a little more intact."
"Guard the supply depots and assembly areas. If you fear spies, plant your own. If unable to reliably plant your own, plant false information. Make their intelligence network believe your supplies are elsewhere. Is CEC providing your ships and materials? Keep them close, keep them safe. Assign defenses to their factories and depots. It may pull a few ships and personnel from the front lines, but in a space war... the Frontline is but a line on a map. A few soldiers and ships may determine whether the fight ahead is harder or easier, but could determine whether the supply depot they were reassigned to falls or holds. In this way, you guard the lifeblood of your war effort and secure victory or, at the very least, prevent defeat."
"Alright, I'm done talking for the moment. Any questions?" the Hutt asked, clapping his hands together lightly. The movement sent up a small cloud of donut powder and Popo realized for the first time that he was probably covered in powdery hand prints. Holding back an embarrassed grimace, he looked out at the audience. "Anyone at all?"
The champagne flute wobbled gently in Alec's hand. It was, perhaps, not her first of the night. She cursed the Academy cadet uniform she wore -- she'd captained Wild Space expeditions, evicted entire Force orders. Now she just looked like any other cadet. Not worth taking seriously.
"Captain Alec Rekali," she said firmly. "You mentioned supply lines, depots, logistics strategy, and borders being not that much of a thing. Far as I can tell, the Republic's done none of that and the One Sith have focused on hitting, say, Jedi temples, while the Republic's scrambled to pick up places like Ruusan and Ossus even though they're far off. Where do Jedi and Sith temples fit into this? Are Force traditions logistical priorities?"
Karen and Grant listened with a smirk as the panel moved along. Grant enjoyed the personalities while Karen ate up the info. So far, only the mention of long range precision weapons had been new to her. She was an axial superlaser kinda gal. Mass drivers were not her specialty. She enjoyed the topics non the less.
Then one of the cadets asked about mages and Karen couldn't help but smile. The largest fleets in the galaxy were often tied hand-to-foot with their Force Using counter parts. Both she and Grant waited for someone to bring up the dreaded, Battle Meditation topic. Burrr. Roberts shuddered at the thought. After all, there was nothing worse than Fleet talks about Krath Illusions and Jedi Mindbogglers. Hopefully they'd just stick to guns and missiles.
The massive Hutt nodded once, acknowledging a point.
"Force orders could theoretically be placed in either the Brain or the Heart as well as into places like Morale or even considered a separate entity of their own," the Hutt stated simply. "In my time leading the Republic, the One Sith tended to attack key strategic worlds at the start, only swapping to Force based planets afterwards. Personally, I consider the targeting of Jedi Temples or other such locations as a sort of... strategic blow."
"Think of it this way: Force orders maintain centers of knowledge and learning to some degree or form. Sith hoard knowledge to a select few for the most part; the masters passing down tidbits here and there to their apprentices. Jedi maintain libraries and temples dedicated to knowledge and understanding. Neutral orders take from one side or the other or operate on different levels in between. All of them, however, hold some secrets, if only a tome or two on how to levitate pencils or whatnot."
"With that in mind, those locations can be considered, in a way, a reservoir of 'supplies', the supplies being years or decades - even centuries - of knowledge. When a warring faction takes those temples and libraries and schools they take those wellsprings of knowledge and learning. At worst, they simply deny such assets to the enemy, much like taking a supply depot of toilet paper or shaving supplies would do to a war effort. At best, they can now use those supplies against their enemies akin to taking a depot full of ammunition, weapons, or vehicles. Conversely, should many masters of that order perish or become captured in the fighting, one could consider the Brain of that order to have been struck, sending the body into disarray much like an actual government."
"So, really, it depends on how you view such things. They can be placed in either, both, or a separate category entirely."
Eye twitched. The carrot snapped in her mouth with a resounding crunch. One shoulder leaned against the wall as she hitched her body to turn in toward her husband. Iced-azure gaze narrowed slightly.
"Some strange business woman took an interest in our kid and decided to gift him with an entire company without consulting his parents first?!"
She let a moment of silence hang between them, then hissed after another chomp of carrot.
A man could forget a lot over a few lives and deaths. A man could forget what he'd been and what he'd done, most of his sins and some of his glory days -- or let time distort memory until what remained might as well have been erased for all the accuracy it still possessed.
But blue hair was forever.
The symposium hall was large, and filled by a constant susurrus of politely quiet conversation. A greeting wouldn't be out of place here. A young man in floppy hair settled in near Roberts and her constant companion. Granite something? "Master Roberts," he said quietly, angling to catch her eye. "It's Shule -- Je'gan Olra'en. Nice to run into you. I didn't realize you were with the Sanctum too."
They'd never been friends, but he'd rarely nurtured friendships in those days. More accurately, they'd served in the Order at the same time, known many of the same people, and worried about the same problems and threats, even if they'd often approached those problems from differing angles. It occurred to him that he might well have been one of those problems to her -- he remembered a group of Jedi leaving the Order when the Council expelled Halcyon, and Roberts might have been among them.
Judah wasn't sure when the last time he had seen [member="Thessa Kai"] so angry. Maybe to the average person at the Gala, the woman looked fine. Maybe crunching a bit too hard on that poor, innocent carrot stick, but fine otherwise. Yet with that eye twitch he could tell there was something boiling beneath the surface.
"We really haven't seen one another since the auction. Not the type of news I didn't want to share not in person."
There was a slight pause as Judah looked around the Gala. Mostly folks mingling, quite a number had left for the planned speeches. No sign of the Trade Queen that had gifted their son the company. That was most likely for the best.
"I talked to her after the auction with Makai. Watched her interact with our boy. Thess, I think she's just a really lonely woman. She literally owns half the 'verse. I don't think her circle of friends is exactly crowded. I mean, at that point, its all folks just trying to get your money. Three million credits for her is like three credits for us."
"That doesn't make this right or any less strange. Maybe you should meet her and decide as well. If you still think this is some dark, sinister plot then we can confront her together."
Grant lifted an eyebrow as the couple's peace was interrupted. There were scarce few people would have ever thought to title his wife, Master. Still. He shrugged it off and went back to listening to Popo. Karen seemed surprised as well. [member="Shule Windspeaker"] was the caretaker of Dantooine. At least, she thought so. His portfolio was unknown to her mostly except for in that regard. She assumed him a Watchman type and an educator. Neither Grandmaster Watts nor Grandmaster Wraith had ever mentioned him in her presence.
"Ah. Hello Master Windspeaker. I suppose we are both far far from Dantooine today. Just an invitational, I assure you. I'm afraid I must admit that I did not know of the Sanctum's very existence before the card arrived in the mail. Mm. The outer rim is vast indeed."
She paused and struggled with what to say next. Like Shule, she too felt that some memories were best left empty to time. Especially since she doubted that neither she nor Grant would ever walk Tython's surface again. The years had not been kind,
"Um. The Jedi Academy, yes? Well. Mm. Excellent faction. I suppose you have a few students by now then. That must keep you rather busy, yes?"
A pitiful comment amongst veterans. Grant knew it too and tried not to chuckle. But these were strange times. She could make small talk if she tried hard enough. No reason to remain a complete hermit.
"Oh. And this is my husband. Knight Pherson. He was kind enough to come with me all the way out here to Sanctum space. Grant, Master Windspeaker."
"Hey. How do you do man."
Pherson gave a nod and leaned back in his seat to continue with the panel. He wasn't much of a talker. Karen shrugged and did her best to be welcoming and open. She was used to being the face of the party.
___
Karen's phone rang and she and Grant had to make an early exit. They would have to finish their conversation another time.
The Jedi Academy had it's pros and cons. Once again, Micah was traveling with his mother, a wandering Professor for the Jedi Academy, and their travels due to her responsibility would take them to this interesting collective shingding.
A bit of a bored expression would wash now and again across the pre-teens freckled face. It wasn't that the topic of the various speeches wasn't interesting; it is that the Speakers had the most droning of voices that could make any one pass out!
Sitting at the back, popping Tok nuts into his mouth, the young Talith would wander his gaze from the main speaker towards the rest of the guests. It was pretty packed; to be frank he was kinda surprised there were so many people.
There was a slight bit of uneasiness in that. Maybe it was because he wasn't so used to being in such crowded and tightly packed spaces; the bulk of his life had been on a small tropical island with only his immediate family.
Crunch, crunch, crunch. He'd chew on his Tok Nuts.
Such a strange thing to even get his mind to wrap around a war. Didn't seem like it. Then again, his parents pretty much made sure they didn't cross paths with anything that would be remotely close to it.
...except for that one time he'd played with the Nav Computer and ended up in the middle of a military conflict...
Mara D'Lessio Merrill, Queen of the Hyperlanes, brandished a flimsiplast plate of hors d'oeuvres from the gala. Her voice was not especially loud, but she got annoyed looks anyway. "All the best food's in the next room, for real. There's even virgin bantha blasters for the cadets...but not so virgin once I got done with'em, harharhar." She flashed a half-empty bottle from inside her ratty vest. More annoyed looks ensued. Those looks would have been upgraded to downright offended, at a guess, if the worthy guests had known she'd spiked the drinks with token amounts of ambrostine, a liquor that caused excessive loss of inhibitions followed by excessive sleep.
Not something new in Micah's life truth be told; but no, it wasn't something like Ovmar's Checklist of ring around the 'verse. It was more that Micah had three other siblings, all of them girls.
All of them going through
their own stages of preteen and teenager angst. He could only imagine the horror of having them all in their cycles at the same time.
He gave an internal shutter.
His nose would crinkle, a token gesture taken from his mother, mild curiosity flashing over his face at the girl.
"Pot to the kettle right there, short stuff," he'd quip right back in a low voice, giving a half upward quirk of his mouth. The glares would ensue. He'd also picked up his mum's tendency for nicknames. His eyes would give a sparkle of interest at the mention of not so virgin Bantha Blasters. Seeing that fall out would just be grand.
But not as much as when his eyes fixated themselves on her plate of hors d'oeuvres. He did like to eat, and those really did look tastey.
"Huh.. they even got Agamar Sliders?" now he was very interested; so much, he perked right up. Maybe getting a plate wasn't such a bad idea. A glance went over her, "So if the Bantha Blasters are -- "
"SHUUUUUUUUUSHHHH!" came the sudden shushing sound from a rather portly figure to their right -- who has the bushiest set of gray eyebrows he'd ever seen on a man -- woman.
Oh boy.
Said woman who was closing in on them faster than a womp rat to carrion.
Incoming adult. Massive eyebrows. Physical presence of a bull gorog, except female. Mara set her feet and brandished the plate. "I'll hold it off," she hissed. "Run for your life. Remember me."
That seemed appropriately last-stand-y. Far across the symposium hall, at the end of the panelists' table, Dad was giving her a look. His wroth, however, seemed equally disposed toward the glowering gorog. As if transfixed by that look, the oncoming adult glanced up, then slowed, apparently realizing just whose child was talking. That stuck in Mara's craw, but there was no getting around being a Merrill. She set her pride aside, grabbed the boy's arm, and shuffled out of the symposium hall with a powerful lack of drama.
In the gala hall, the cadets were getting decidedly friendly. Mara glanced back. "Looks like we lost the gorog."
