Private The Will To Be

[Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt]

​

Location: : Aboard the Epitaph II, Hyperspace, last known location Veroleem System..
Focus : Belisarius
Theme : For Whom..

---

---

The halls of the Star Destroyer were slowly growing tame, you couldn’t make it on the lift a standard hour ago it had been that packed with staff and naval personnel. Each set to their own task amidst the change of course from Veroleem. Fatigue and vindictiveness licked at the Colonel’s heels, finally attempting to slip down the hall. Battle had dogged her down and she tugged at her earlobe, trying to ease the ringing. Getting blown up for a second time in her career, who would have thought? The woman had to smother her scoff, catching the lift’s doors and stepping in.

They had left the planet behind and Lyra considered it good riddance, reports of casualties and damages rolling in intermediately as Genesis counted it’s losses. The whole placement had been a..she didn’t have the words for it. The medical bay had been swamped, and while she had been put there, the woman had seen herself out to make another bed clear. A grey flak jacket tossed on last minute haphazardly, offering some semblance of properness.

She couldn’t stand the sickbeds either, but who really could?

The nurses and droids alike were dealing with the worst of the throes of blunt force trauma. The insurgent’s lighting drop on Lo-Hold 3 had been ugly, to any soldier; they’d understand the image. Glancing down, Lyra pressed a firm hand on the bacta wrap that encased her left forearm; it wasn’t cranial bleeding this time at least. A hearty portion of Genesis had to be left to the hands of the professional's, they had been hit hard. Enough to start raising concerns about dependability.

With one to many thoughts haunting her, Lyra had left her formalities behind and mindfully picked the quickest path through the crowd when the blast doors opened. Stepping out in the long ship hangar. She barely acknowledged any address aimed toward her, grumbling under her breath about the cold. The inquiry could have waited perhaps but she liked immediate answers.. The army was on the hunt and hungry for it, chasing at the scraps of the cultists, it wouldn’t be long before they were tossed back into the fray.

Kriff them. ​

Passing batches of fresh troopers and the ground squads still in enough shape to work, hydraulics hissed off nearby machinery and the stench of fuel hung in the air; the engineer's knee deep in emergency repairs. The woman marched down the ship line looking for a callsign. The 51st were a hardy bunch, any airborne had to be. She had heard of them in passing after Krieg and a plan was slowly turning on the wheel in her head. They had seen some hard front line action, the database still listing them active. Craning her head, the woman crossed the landing platforms passing clusters of weathered shuttles with a strong boot click. Approaching the group of troopers that fit the description, she stopped short of the airborne; barely offering them a second glance.

“I’m looking for the 51st, the boys who were on Krieg? I want to speak with your commander.”

 

[Belisarius]

​

GLADIUS COMPANY
51st AIRBORNE

They were recuperating the only way they knew - playing sabacc, smuggling liquor to other units and arguing politics. Belisarius, of course, never stopped them from doing it; he just kept one eye closed. Disciplining former paramilitary civies was completely different from disciplining professional soldiers. Had a fresher captain been put in charge here - they would've eaten him alive. But all these activities were not the hardest part of his job, no. It was something far more nefarious.

He sat behind a makeshift desk, a cargo crate, and was writing his report on a holopad. The report indicated a detail summary of Gladius Company's actions on Veroleem earlier. What it did not indicate was the few occasions of civilian casualties. A few of his men, being more trigger happy and zealous, had shot civilians with the reasoning they were hiding Sith cultists. That, of course, was not true. They knew it and he knew it but the Captain had to maintain the integrity of the company. As a truthful and direct man, Belisarius had to sacrifice his sacred principles to keep the men intact because what awaited them soon was the fight of their lives. They needed every spare man on the front, not locked in a brig facing a prolonged court martial trial. He knew the risks - if this was exposed, he would face the consequences himself. It certainly bothered his sleep but experience steeled his nerves and carried him on day after day. He had to see this war through.

When Col. Voi'kryt arrived in their neck of the woods, suspicious eyes were first to greet here before Lt. Agrippa made his appearance and with a salute led her to the Captain.

"Who the hell is that?" Pvt. Volk asked inaudibly his ol' pal Cpl. Nava. A scowl on his face.

"Colonel Voi'kryt." she replied with a whisper as both of them observed her passing by with Lt. Agrippa.

"Who?"

"Are you daft?" she asked rhetorically. Nava knew Volk was one of the most ignorant troopers she'd ever met. "Genesis Company. Recon rangers. One of the first to defect with the Imperator Tavlar--"

"Spooks? Dang, what the hell she want?"

"I don't know, we'll find out soon enough, that's for sure." she said curtly and ended the conversation. There were rumors and gossip out there but Nava knew it was best not sharing it with loud-mouth Volk. "Let's keep playing." she drew a card.

The Captain looked up from his report as two figures appeared in his periphery. He subtly shuttered the screen of the holopad and looked up to see Lt. Agrippa and, if memory served him right, Colonel Voi'kryt - first met at the shooting range on Nirauan. Unlike the rest of his company, the Captain was still with his helmet on; and luckily so - she wouldn't see the deep frown form on his face. Was this the worst coincidence? Or had their ploy been discovered? Belisarius remained steadfast in the face of adversity.

"Colonel." the bear-like figure of the Captain stood up from his seat and saluted.

Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt

 

[Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt]

“Captain..?,” Lyra echoed his greeting, fishing for a name. The man over half a head taller than her but she remained unconcerned. She wasn’t the clean cut uniform from Niraun anymore, haggard seemed fitting but they all were. The woman raised a hand, offering a clean and steady salute before discarding honors. She couldn’t place it but she had a feeling she had seen him elsewhere. “At ease. I am glad to have caught you-take a seat and please, take off your helmet. I want to talk shop with you.”

It poised a certain amount of lax.

Lyra could read the hangar well enough with an eye’s glance, she’d gotten their attention though she couldn’t over hear what whispers said. The Colonel doubted she wanted to, she remembered her days talking shavit about commands that would happen to stroll leisurely into their domain. Surrounded by the 51st, the air was rife with suspicion, the wake of the insurrectionist attack hardly helped either.

Shifting her weight, the woman looked over to the nearest cluster of soldiers, a dark brow rising as she watched a man trying to push the sabaac cards out of sight. Gambling was the least of their concerns and she didn’t give it a second thought.

“If one of you could push a crate over here for me please, I’d like to sit myself,” she said, motioning quickly for someone. The woman would have done it herself but she didn’t want to go aggravating the patch work done on her. Stepping aside as the soldiers processed her words, she heard the heavy scraping of a case; two men stepping to. Lyra let them figure it out themselves as she quietly busied herself digging through the jacket’s breast pocket.

The Colonel produced a rich brown cigarra stick, a bad habit she might consider more regal than producing a flask. It could take the edge off and it was a quirk she had picked up from Tavlar himself, a dark look passed over her face at the thought before her face melted into a stern disposition. Tucking the end of the smoke between her teeth, Lyra produced a lighter. The fire starter clicked a few times before it caught.

The woman turned around when a hard thud sounded, taking a drag off the smoke.

“There you go ma’am!”

Cheeky bunch, Lyra stifled a laugh as the Private made a show of dusting off the box for her. The cigarra carried a heavy near sweet smell and she turned aside, a waft of smoke pouring from her lips. The woman made herself comfortable, taking a seat down on the crate. Staring across the little work station the Captain sported. It was a good sign when a commander sat among his men, but she’d compare it to walking into a den of lothal wolves just the same; rowdy as they might seem.

“How’d the 51st fair planet-side?”

---

Belisarius

 

[Belisarius]

"Belisarius." he filled in the blanks of her lingering sentence.

The Captain sat back on the crate he used as a seat and, at first, did not comply with the request/order. He waited for his men to demonstratively set a crate for the Colonel to sit on, to which he mentally chuckled, and leave the two officers on their own. His helmet came off with a hiss, as the pressurized filtered air escape into the stench of sweat and plasma that lingered in the area. Beneath it, the enigmatic face of the captain was revealed - nearly perfectly square head like that of a box, a short cut brown hair with streaks of silver on the side slowly but certainly conquering more territory with each year gone. A scar ran across his right cheek and through his lips; unfortunately, not a scar of prestigious nature, rather that of a shiv fight in Republican prison decades ago.

A grizzled veteran. Determined but with the hint of age's tiredness crossing his eyes.

Time was merciless.

“How’d the 51st fair planet-side?”

The question nearly caught him offside. A bare squint of his eyes revealed his unsavory reaction to the inquiry. He eyed the smoke of the cigar, as if that was what bothered him. Belisarius was battle-hardened, a leader of men who had seen much combat; acting was far from his area of expertise.

"No casualties. Just a few men in the infirmary for a longer time than I wished." he admitted what he wanted the conversation to lean into. War crimes definitely was not something he wanted the dialogue to move into. Was she, in reality, an ISB officer? Who knew. You knew a spook is a spook when it was all too late. The bastards. "In the end, the Sith loyalists were forced into flight, many captured and equal number dead."

Belisarius wasn't sure if his answer was directly taken from something he had just been writing in his report. What he was sure about is that he wished to set his own terms on the conversation, thus, "And yours, Colonel? You were deployed near us, head it got hot."

Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt

 

[Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt]

A damn mouthfull of a name but she offered him a curt nod. He didn’t like her asking questions and Lyra sensed the faintest of hostilities. The woman hardly blamed him and she took another drag from the cigarra; crossing one leg over the other. She raised her bad brow curious, her own scars tugging awkwardly as he narrowed his eyes at her. It was an unschooled move but he fit the type she expected to see here, he had seen enough action by the marks he himself carried.

She wasn’t going to go raising any concern, they were two veterans in it for the long haul and that's what the Legion needed. He regurgitated what she assumed was what was going into the little mandatory report she had interrupted, eyes flickering to the data pad before turning her attention back to him.

He didn’t have the decorum to shut his mouth though, it was an insult to injury. A beat of silence followed his question. Her lips pressed together faintly and she offered him a blank stare; refusing to give him a scrap more. They didn’t even recover Jissard, and the pain was fresh-there had been nothing left.

“Now Captain, I’d go as far as to say you don’t like polite conversation,” Lyra mused flatly. Her head tilted to the side as she shrugged her bad arm. “You’re not wrong though, we were on street sweeps-needed to shut that market down at the start but airstrike did the job in the end..Let’s just cut to the chase, too many squads were scattered back there. Our fight isn’t through and the airborne are always the first in, we need to organize though. I’ve got a task if you’re up for it?”

---

Belisarius

 

[Belisarius]

He glared at her neutrally. She didn't seem the stick up the ass officer he was used to seeing running around the Sith Empire; rather, more no-nonsense. He could respect that, it reminded him of himself. Captain Belisarius crossed his arms and listened intently to the Legion Commander speaking. He recalled vaguely some reports of airstrikes at the market, sounded like it was her's unit that needed the air boys on top but his thoughts about that disappeared when she mentioned the organizational issues at hand.

"I don't think you're asking me a question, Commander." he replied dryly. "The Storm Corps has been suffering organizational anarchy since its inception - that is a fact and it is expected given our...situation." insurgency rarely were considered the most organized movements in history. "Consolidation of units has taken time and resources we barely can spare and it's not nearly over, while war is knocking on the door." a slight frown paved its way on his face. "What do you have in mind?"

And why come to me, the captain of zealous volunteers? He did not voice that question.

Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt

 

[Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt]

“A task force. I always take into mind the situational influences, it’s my job however to find solutions. We can organize, it’s frankly doable and chaos of defection aside,” the Commander said, blunt as she waved her hand as if to dismiss the notion. She knew doubt when she saw it and one could almost consider her words naive. Lyra saw herself as too seasoned for that, she just wasn’t daunted by the work ahead; her eyes on the prize. “We are all defectors from different parts of the Sith Imperial ranks, a great deal of these battalions have just been lumped together and there in itself lies the issue. We have a goal but I don’t know the unit fighting next to me, I don’t know you all that well aside from Aeten Two’s reports. There is a lack of compatibility, and what’s stronger? One or five? It’s one united front and I want to set an example for ranks here.”

He seemed to have a healthy enough pessimistic attitude, realistic even. Lyra let the cigarra hang between her teeth as under the flak coat to pull out a data pad. Tossing it down with a thud on the crate between them, her eyes briefly passing around the hangar with all the commotion going on with repairs. Plucking the smoke from her mouth, she blew a waft of smoke aside. Reaching over and tapping her bruised knuckles on the screen, it seemed to be a mandate at first glance.

“That details of goals and tasks, I ran some of the numbers before boots were on the ground at Lo-Hold. How do you feel about helping lead something like that? You seem to be made of sterner shavit then most and your men here aren’t green. You’d be volunteering for the harder fights, some details aside, it will put us in the thick of it. This is a choice but it could do alot of good not just for us, but this attitude on board, and strategically speaking helps.”

She tried to speak plainly, but it may of came more off as some propaganda. Pulling her hand back, Lyra hunched over, planting her elbows on her knees; tired. She idly considered the men around her-a handful of them probably were easing dropping in from behind the deck’s and other distractions. She should have brought some of the Genny boys over, but maybe that would have been a premature move. Turning her attention squarely back on the Captain. The woman nodded toward the report.

“If you want to look it over, I’ll give you a few days. Genesis is getting cycled out but as soon as we have the green light. I’m going forward with or without you.”

---

Belisarius

 

[Belisarius]

The Captain took the datapad put on his makeshift desk and cautiously brought to his face. This was more than a couple of a pages. She compiled it for a short time--clerical work experience? No matter, someone had to be able to administrate things. As long as not every military leader out there was an administrator they were good. Besides, she didn't really strike him as the sit behind the desk type. Too much grit on a young lady's face. Young, huh? Calling thirty year olds young now. Age certainly had caught up to Belisarius.

"Bringing my men fighting side by side with yours is going to take one conversation with my noncoms; there will be bitching. Getting them to...develop chemistry will take more than that." he said as he put the datapad back on the desk. A certain read for the rest of his day, after he was done with the dubious report. "Gladius isn't your standard military outfit on the field, Commander. I am the only professional soldier among them, most come from pro-Imperial paramilitaries, volunteers and similar militias with a zealous, borderline fanatic beliefs. The rest are mercs turned imps, for one reason or another." this was a cutthroat group, no wonder he had to forge the reports now. Gladius got the job done but cost was never recognized. Never too high.

"With all due respect, Commander Voi'Kryt--" he scowled. "--this is a risky move given the circumstances." he released a long held sigh in surrender and shifted his eyes up from the datapad he had been staring to the Legion Commander, "yet, this is all we've got to up our chances. I will look up the numbers you've ran and reassess our strength, combat readiness and past military actions as a start but this venture needs more than that. On numbers we will never prevail - we need spirit. Morale. The tangibles win battles, the intagibles win wars."

Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt

 

[Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt]

“I see..I was not expecting militia members..mind you I am not judging. We’ll just have to lead by example,“ Lyra surmised, her shoulders twitching as she mutely shrugged. “you don’t have to tell me twice Captain, I’d suspect something was wrong if things went smoothly. If it helps, there is funding that can help the transition if you consider, we can make some upgrades happen. And for the record, if I wanted numbers to out right beat back the Sith I would be organizing a regiment or a proper legion. I have always preferred smaller specialized forces though.”

Lyra rolled the ciggara between two pinched fingers; inhaling deeply. It was a change of pace from the cheap packs of smokes she had been burning through. Her thoughts wandering, brows pinched together. Zealots were dodgy and Mercenaries weren’t the worst, However did she hold any fondness toward any of them? Absolutely not, a few joint operations with local groups over the years had ended on the rockier side.

Too much in itself for themselves, the disorganization, bunch of fekking arseholes at that too but she wasn’t above working with them. They were all Imperials now, she’d just have to hope they had enough skin in the game to match Genesis. In the back of her mind however, she doubted it. Her men just wanted to go home, glory and what ever drove the rag tag band surrounding her might just not add up. The woman would just have to try and reserve her judgment, they just needed to get the job done.

Lyra had been going out on a limb approaching him, logic and need aside, she had a gut feeling about it all.

“I’ve been running reconnaissances and smaller operations for the longest time but we’ve reclassified. I’ll bring my best shots if you bring the tenacity. Morale will come, likely after we walk out of the fire itself-for better or for worse if you will. There will be plenty of smaller fights to come before we face an invasion, plenty of time to temper.”

Belisarius