defy the tyrannous stars
Location: Fort Dawn, En Route to Skor II
Allies: Galactic Alliance, [member="Sieb Tevv"], [member="Trextan Voidstalker"], [member="Bryce Bantam"]
Enemies: First Order, [member="Cyrus Tregessar"], [member="Carlyle Rausgeber"]
Gear:
Alliance Border, Elrood Sector
Outer Rim
Lieutenant Commander Bashir paced nervously outside the frontier starport's COC as he waited on the now long overdue arrival of his commanding officer. It had now been near on half an hour since he had paged the Commodore about the emergency distress signal sent from the neighboring Alliance planet of Skor II. At last deciding that enough was enough, the polar Mon Calamari executive officer made the potentially foolish decision to abandon his post and seek out Commodore Pulsar himself. Having served with Zark since his last XO, Mazik Stazi, had been given his own command over the Commodore's first posting, the ANS Rebel's Hope, Bashir knew the human officer well enough to know that he would not be found at the apartment appointed for him in Fort's Spire.
Instead, the Mon Cal made his way to the turbolifts that led down, not up, to Docking Bay Zero. The specialized docking berth was rated to handle just about every designation of Alliance Navy ship, but the Commodore's current command, the ANS Hereafter, stretched the station keepers to very near their limits. At sixteen hundred meters, the Belsar-class Command Carrier struck out like a massive dagger impaling the station's underbelly. As the Lieutenant Commander walked briskly down the docking tube that led to the carrier's starboard docking port, he could see the faint but dazzling blinking warning lights rerouting commercial traffic safely around the imposing capital vessel.
Each deck of the Hereafter was abuzz with activity, Bashir himself having given the order to recall shore leave and make ready for potential departure. A few of the younger sailors gaped at their XO as he passed them by, but for the most part the crew of the command carrier were well trained enough to leave him in peace as they carried out his orders. As he reached the hatch leading to the Commodore's quarters, the lack of attention paid his way became somehow noticeably more pointed. Knocking twice raptly and then pushing his way in before a reply could be given one way or another, Bashir blinked his amphibious eyes rapidly to adjust to the dimness of the room.
"Commander Bashir, forgive me," the words startled the Lieutenant Commander, for they were delivered out of the gloom after a long time. Just as he had been giving up hope that the quarters were indeed occupied at all, "Did I summon you?"
Shadows dancing across his features, Commodore Zark Pulsar emerged just enough from the dark for his outline to be clearly seen. His eyes smoldered with a shimmering fire Bashir had not seen before Atrisia but now saw all too often, when he saw Zark at all. The Mon Cal couldn't tell if it was just his imagination, couldn't tell if the whole thing was his imagination, but he felt the horrible sensation that the fire might actually be growing. Thoroughly caught of guard, Commander Bashir didn't know what to say, and so the silence lingered. But Zark for his part made no move to chastise or rebuke, in fact he made no move at all. He simply stood there, unnaturally still, expectant.
"Forgive me for disturbing you, Commodore," Bashir managed at last, "You must not have received my comms."
"Oh, I received them," the Jedi Knight interrupted suddenly, dreamily.
After realizing the Commodore had finished speaking, the Mon Cal hesitantly pressed on, "Yes, sir. Its just...we've received a priority distress call from Skor II. It would appear there's been some sort of attack sir, or environmental disaster, I'm not really sure what. Long range telemetry has also detected the presence of a large armada bearing First Order transponders, and-"
"Thank you, Lieutenant Commander," Zark interrupted him, but there was no edge to his tone. Just a calm finality, "That will be all."
"Sir?" Bashir said, at a loss to say anything else.
"Unless there is anything else?" the Commodore asked, but he was already turning away. Back into the shadows.
"I...no, sir," it was as if he was speaking with an entirely different person, "Should we...yes, sir."
As the young man backed out of his commanding officer's quarters, the hatch slid shut behind him, and in the darkness Zark peered at his reflection in the mirror. In the darkness, if he looked just right...he knew that was his face. But was it really his?
The Jedi Knight's mechanical arm twitched. He knew it must have been an involuntary reaction on his own part, it had to be. After all, who else was there?
Bashir retreated back to Fort Dawn, defeated. When the Mon Cal had first received this posting, it had been his dream assignment. The Commodore was a capable tactician, and a wise man in many of the secret workings of the galaxy. But after Atrisia, something had changed inside him. It had been slow at first, but much more rapid these last few months. It had begun with his removal from the front lines and requested assignment of overseeing the shakedown of the brand new border port. Resentful of his disregard for orders at Kaeshana, the High Command had all been eager to mollify his public approval and remove him from the board with their token intercession to save the project and actually build the frelling thing.
The Lieutenant Commander had stuck by him, because he believed. But lately, he had begun to suspect that something was wrong. With the Commodore, or with the galaxy in general, but something...
"Where's Commodore Pulsar?" the station director shouted gruffly as Bashir entered the COC.
"He sends his regrets, but he is responding to an urgent communique from High Command aboard the Hereafter," the Mon Cal lied, "Our orders are to continue monitoring the situation and coordinate relief efforts from the Fort as we may."
So astounded was the look on the director's face and so hamfisted was the Lieutenant Commander's improvised attempt to save his superior's career that Bashir was certain he was about to be called on it. But as it turned out, he didn't have time.
"Belay that order, Commander Bashir," a stern voice called out behind him.
The Mon Cal wheeled around, to see a very different Commodore Pulsar than the one he had left just moments ago on the Hereafter bounding up to the elevated platform where the two other men were speaking. In what passed for full uniform as far as Zark Pulsar was concerned, the Alliance officer's heavy blaster dangled from where it was loosely secured on his utility belt.
"Find me the closest responding Alliance elements to our position," he ordered as he approached them.
Awe struck by the transformation, it took Bashir an embarrassing delay to respond to his commanding officer, leaping to the nearest sensor station.
"That'd be ahhh...task force Moridena, Admiral Tevv commanding," he relayed.
"Krayt spit, I'm not going to deprive Tevv of a single starship," Zark muttered, half to himself, "With any luck, the crazy old Sullustan will call up another mercenary armada to deal with the whole situation. Next closest please, Mister Bashir."
"Lets see...next closest out would be....Task Force Sullust," the Mon Cal replied, "Commodore Nguyen commanding."
"Excellent," the Jedi Knight snapped his fingers, "No offense to Nguyen. Beam me its complement."
As Bashir did so and the Commodore began glancing over ship classifications, the XO scanned his superior for any sign of the terrifying state he had been in earlier. There was none, and the Lieutenant Commander wasn't sure whether to feel relieve or even more troubled.
"Contact the ANS Ascendant," Zark said at last, "Have her rerouted to Fort Dawn, and make the Hereafter ready to depart. We jump for Skor II as soon as she's in system."
"Already taken care of, Commodore."
"Good," he said, "Good."
Allies: Galactic Alliance, [member="Sieb Tevv"], [member="Trextan Voidstalker"], [member="Bryce Bantam"]
Enemies: First Order, [member="Cyrus Tregessar"], [member="Carlyle Rausgeber"]
Gear:
Lightsaber
GA-HBS-01 Heavy Blaster Pistol
GA-HBS-01 Heavy Blaster Pistol
Combat Operations Center, Fort DawnAlliance Border, Elrood Sector
Outer Rim
Lieutenant Commander Bashir paced nervously outside the frontier starport's COC as he waited on the now long overdue arrival of his commanding officer. It had now been near on half an hour since he had paged the Commodore about the emergency distress signal sent from the neighboring Alliance planet of Skor II. At last deciding that enough was enough, the polar Mon Calamari executive officer made the potentially foolish decision to abandon his post and seek out Commodore Pulsar himself. Having served with Zark since his last XO, Mazik Stazi, had been given his own command over the Commodore's first posting, the ANS Rebel's Hope, Bashir knew the human officer well enough to know that he would not be found at the apartment appointed for him in Fort's Spire.
Instead, the Mon Cal made his way to the turbolifts that led down, not up, to Docking Bay Zero. The specialized docking berth was rated to handle just about every designation of Alliance Navy ship, but the Commodore's current command, the ANS Hereafter, stretched the station keepers to very near their limits. At sixteen hundred meters, the Belsar-class Command Carrier struck out like a massive dagger impaling the station's underbelly. As the Lieutenant Commander walked briskly down the docking tube that led to the carrier's starboard docking port, he could see the faint but dazzling blinking warning lights rerouting commercial traffic safely around the imposing capital vessel.
Each deck of the Hereafter was abuzz with activity, Bashir himself having given the order to recall shore leave and make ready for potential departure. A few of the younger sailors gaped at their XO as he passed them by, but for the most part the crew of the command carrier were well trained enough to leave him in peace as they carried out his orders. As he reached the hatch leading to the Commodore's quarters, the lack of attention paid his way became somehow noticeably more pointed. Knocking twice raptly and then pushing his way in before a reply could be given one way or another, Bashir blinked his amphibious eyes rapidly to adjust to the dimness of the room.
"Commander Bashir, forgive me," the words startled the Lieutenant Commander, for they were delivered out of the gloom after a long time. Just as he had been giving up hope that the quarters were indeed occupied at all, "Did I summon you?"
Shadows dancing across his features, Commodore Zark Pulsar emerged just enough from the dark for his outline to be clearly seen. His eyes smoldered with a shimmering fire Bashir had not seen before Atrisia but now saw all too often, when he saw Zark at all. The Mon Cal couldn't tell if it was just his imagination, couldn't tell if the whole thing was his imagination, but he felt the horrible sensation that the fire might actually be growing. Thoroughly caught of guard, Commander Bashir didn't know what to say, and so the silence lingered. But Zark for his part made no move to chastise or rebuke, in fact he made no move at all. He simply stood there, unnaturally still, expectant.
"Forgive me for disturbing you, Commodore," Bashir managed at last, "You must not have received my comms."
"Oh, I received them," the Jedi Knight interrupted suddenly, dreamily.
After realizing the Commodore had finished speaking, the Mon Cal hesitantly pressed on, "Yes, sir. Its just...we've received a priority distress call from Skor II. It would appear there's been some sort of attack sir, or environmental disaster, I'm not really sure what. Long range telemetry has also detected the presence of a large armada bearing First Order transponders, and-"
"Thank you, Lieutenant Commander," Zark interrupted him, but there was no edge to his tone. Just a calm finality, "That will be all."
"Sir?" Bashir said, at a loss to say anything else.
"Unless there is anything else?" the Commodore asked, but he was already turning away. Back into the shadows.
"I...no, sir," it was as if he was speaking with an entirely different person, "Should we...yes, sir."
As the young man backed out of his commanding officer's quarters, the hatch slid shut behind him, and in the darkness Zark peered at his reflection in the mirror. In the darkness, if he looked just right...he knew that was his face. But was it really his?
The Jedi Knight's mechanical arm twitched. He knew it must have been an involuntary reaction on his own part, it had to be. After all, who else was there?
Bashir retreated back to Fort Dawn, defeated. When the Mon Cal had first received this posting, it had been his dream assignment. The Commodore was a capable tactician, and a wise man in many of the secret workings of the galaxy. But after Atrisia, something had changed inside him. It had been slow at first, but much more rapid these last few months. It had begun with his removal from the front lines and requested assignment of overseeing the shakedown of the brand new border port. Resentful of his disregard for orders at Kaeshana, the High Command had all been eager to mollify his public approval and remove him from the board with their token intercession to save the project and actually build the frelling thing.
The Lieutenant Commander had stuck by him, because he believed. But lately, he had begun to suspect that something was wrong. With the Commodore, or with the galaxy in general, but something...
"Where's Commodore Pulsar?" the station director shouted gruffly as Bashir entered the COC.
"He sends his regrets, but he is responding to an urgent communique from High Command aboard the Hereafter," the Mon Cal lied, "Our orders are to continue monitoring the situation and coordinate relief efforts from the Fort as we may."
So astounded was the look on the director's face and so hamfisted was the Lieutenant Commander's improvised attempt to save his superior's career that Bashir was certain he was about to be called on it. But as it turned out, he didn't have time.
"Belay that order, Commander Bashir," a stern voice called out behind him.
The Mon Cal wheeled around, to see a very different Commodore Pulsar than the one he had left just moments ago on the Hereafter bounding up to the elevated platform where the two other men were speaking. In what passed for full uniform as far as Zark Pulsar was concerned, the Alliance officer's heavy blaster dangled from where it was loosely secured on his utility belt.
"Find me the closest responding Alliance elements to our position," he ordered as he approached them.
Awe struck by the transformation, it took Bashir an embarrassing delay to respond to his commanding officer, leaping to the nearest sensor station.
"That'd be ahhh...task force Moridena, Admiral Tevv commanding," he relayed.
"Krayt spit, I'm not going to deprive Tevv of a single starship," Zark muttered, half to himself, "With any luck, the crazy old Sullustan will call up another mercenary armada to deal with the whole situation. Next closest please, Mister Bashir."
"Lets see...next closest out would be....Task Force Sullust," the Mon Cal replied, "Commodore Nguyen commanding."
"Excellent," the Jedi Knight snapped his fingers, "No offense to Nguyen. Beam me its complement."
As Bashir did so and the Commodore began glancing over ship classifications, the XO scanned his superior for any sign of the terrifying state he had been in earlier. There was none, and the Lieutenant Commander wasn't sure whether to feel relieve or even more troubled.
"Contact the ANS Ascendant," Zark said at last, "Have her rerouted to Fort Dawn, and make the Hereafter ready to depart. We jump for Skor II as soon as she's in system."
"Already taken care of, Commodore."
"Good," he said, "Good."
