| abstract
| - Transformed from a place of business and governmental sobriety, the atrium is freshly decorated with flowers and fresh cut boughs of fragrant pine to lend a festive air to this evenings gathering. Interwoven among the flowers and the boughs are multi colored lights that sparkle and cast the festive colors in bold relief. Banners are freshly starched and flutter in the evening breeze. A lavish banquet table occupies one entire wall of the atrium, plates and bowls set forth to accommodate the guests in attendance. Delicious fare to tempt the traditional human palate is interspersed with delicacies from all member planets of the Republic, representing the different tastes and cultures of the allied worlds. Servers clad in uniform white mingle among the guests, trays laden with drinks of all kinds are offered, the wet bar itself is manned by a quartet of gray haired gentlemen - capable of making any kind of drink requested. They serve double duty as bar tender and, should the need arise, have the authority to firmly escort the overly inebriated to a quiet room to sober up. This place isn't anything new to the Senator. Next to his office and the nearby park, this is one of the places where he spends a large portion of his life here on Ord Mantell, speaking with one of his political allies, throwing a few words to the press, or simply brooding on the state of the state of the galaxy while the Senate itself is in recess. The layout of the considerably-sized atrium, however, is something that is new to the Senator, as is the set of clothing he is wearing, a gift from one of his more financially well-off friends off-planet. Another piece of clothing that is not a regular piece of his wardrobe is an elaborate wooden cane which he seems to be using to favor his right leg, courtesy of a recent sociopolitical event on Dac resulting in his being poisoned. In a rare, yet pleasant occasion for the Senator, Lemos is unaccompanied by a force from the senatorial guard. Judging by the expression on his face, he seems quite at home in a setting like this, although as expected for a government official for a government in the state of the Republic's, he carries something of a small worry in his expression, though he hides it well as he glides across the room in elegant robes towards the wet bar and orders a glowing green drink that the bartender louches with a cube of purple sugar. The trip from the Jedi temple is a quick one for Alistair. This evening he is a good deal better dressed than he normally is. From head to foot he is sharply dressed and as such his movements are equally sharp. Tattooed blue lekku are wrapped comfortably around his shoulders. Gloved hands rest comfortably within one another as the short man strides into the atrium. He isn't much of a social gathering person, as if it isn't obvious from his outward disposition, but he tries his best anyways. Surrounded by strangers, Alistair isn't much sure of what to do. Blue eyes study the food but decide against it, maybe later. This isn't so much his arena, but recent events have forced him to decide that he'll make it his arena. Alistair spots the first recognizable face he sees and makes his way aover to make polite small talk. Amid the swell of New Republic being is a face perhaps known to a very few, Malif Tal-Tahn a member of the Corporate Sector authourity and rumor has it other things best not spoken of in polite political company. His presense here is odd as is the mood he finds himself in. But he did do his part in the war games and thus he is here. Him being a Bothan, and his parents and clan having been diplomats to boot, Corporal Tarkis Kayl'bre finds himself equally at ease at a public function such as this just as he does in the swamps or forests of some backwater planet with an enemy between his sights. The dress uniform regulations never have appealed to the Bothan though, as it forces him to either trim his hair, or pull it back neat, both of which he despises doing. Slowly strolling into the chamber, Vaughan's eyes are brimming with a smile not shown on his face. It had been a while since he had been able to make his way back to Ord Mantel, and it seemed he had picked the right day. His clothes are cleaner than they have been in years. Looking down at them he marvels. Shaking his head he reminds himself of his surroundings before moving forward to one of the bars. Nodding to a waiter he motions for one of his drinks. With glass in hands he looks at the arriving individuals. His eyes sparkling he scans each face, so many important people. Then his eyes find Alistair, nodding a bit to the twi'lek, not knowing if he is seen, he then goes back to people watching and standing silently for a bit. It is not often that he wears this uniform, the last being when he assisted the decomissioning ceremony for the NRCV Land Runner and Plaxif. Thus, that he can put it on for as good and pleasant an occasion as this is more than enough to make Rasi look forward to this evening's events. Particularly given how the Wargames went and how his own ship, well the ship he is an XO on, fared. When he walks into this area, it is at a slow pace, slow because they've been drilled to not look hurried at events such as these. With his boots buffed to an absolute shined and the rest of his clothes pressed, perhaps obsessively so, Rasi looks, if he himself might say so, quite sharp. A quick glance around the atrium, noticeably different than since he has been here last, and he walks in deeper and deeper towards the bar. More than half of the senators are already in attendance in the Atrium, wandering among the invited guests and pausing here and there to engage in idle conversation. An event like this is the sort where being seen is important, politically speaking, and being seen mingling with the military personnel in attendance will certainly prove to be a boon to their political clout. Or, such is the mind set of many of the political movers and shakers in the crowd this evening. Near the main arch way into the atrium stands an elderly gentlemen who is announcing senators and ambassadors as they enter the atrium itself. already mingling with the crowd is the chief of state, having arrived with absolutely no fan fare for the specific purpose of being able to walk among the guests and speak easily, dispensing with the standard formalities for the moment. She catches sight of Senator Ackinbrac and Commander Cen as the two men arrive at the wet bar, and she too angles in that direction to greet them both with a smile followed by the words, "Thank you both for attending. It is a lovely evening, is it not?" Grabbing a drink from one of the passing servers, Tarkis spots another military uniform, and heads over to Rasi. Nodding respectfully to the Commander, he speaks, "Evening sir, glad to see I'm not the only military-type here at this get-together tonight, Commander...?" Lemos turns his back to the bar and leans on his cane slightly, surveying the room for any familiar faces. Some people he hasn't had the opportunity of meeting, fewer he has but would rather not speak to, and fewer still are those whom he would be interested in speaking to again. Being of the traditional passive social philosophy of the Mon Calamari, Lemos lies in wait either to be approached or to notice and seize an opportunity for conversation. Looking down at his drink as the purple sugar continues to liquify and turn it into a color between the two of them. Lemos is sure that in his inbox somewhere is a list of the goings on and speeches of the evening, but he couldn't find it in the twenty minutes or so that he had spent searching for it. If he's supposed to speak some point in the evening, he doesn't know it, although he has spent the last few minutes thinking of a few things to mention on that off chance. Lemos' mind is brought out of the clouds and back to the real world by the voice of the Chief of State, which makes him look up from the depths of his absinthe-esque drink. "Ahh, yes," he answers, putting on the best political face he can manage. "It is, isn't it? We should host events here more often," Lemos answers with a grin. "It's quite the convention hall." "Fizzyglug, in its bottle will do.", Rasi says to the waiter that greets him, perhaps earning himself a few snickers from any that are close enough to hear. After all, anyone with the rank of the man, and with no small number of insignia pinned to his uniform ordering a fizzyglug is no doubt very, very low class. He glares at any who dare mock him thus, which admitedly is not that large a number, and with his drink in hand departs the bar, intending to wander aimlessly until he stumbles on someone of interest. His wandering is stopped when he sees just such a person, a Mon Calamari, a Senator by the looks of it. Rasi smiles then, reaching into his jacket and retrieving a small datapad and a stylus, the avid autograph-seeker in him making it impossible for him to pass up such an opportunity. However, when he is spoken to by...by the Chief of State, all thoughts of autographs immediately go out of his head. He snaps to attention, presenting to Leia a well-executed salute ruined only by the fact that both hands hold something. "Madam Chief of State, it is an honour." When the recognizable Bothan greets him, a nod is offered, "Corporal, I would not expect you to be here. Taking advantage of your free time to mingle among the high and mighty?", the words whispered so that not many of them are overheard by those around him. Alistair continues his small and curt movements as he circulates through the room. Upon seeing Vaughan, the twi'lek offers an exaggerated bow of his head before continuing on. He apparently has no interest in the bar, and instead stops in front of plaques to study and read them. Alistair continues a thoughtful pace of reading and then slowly moving on to the next. With every man or woman that crosses his path he offers a gentle bow of his head. The blue man is no government figure nor a military figure and offers no recognition to anybody in the room. To be honest, the men and women in uniform and expensive attire intimidates him slightly. With a casual pace Malif crosses paths with a white uniformed server and takes a drink off the tray with a nod of thanks. "Well Tahn, you here. mingle mingle." he says more to himself then anyone else. Out of place would be a good description, still the near human does his best to blend in. Black within black eyes notes faces. Tarkis grins at the Commander, "Which would you prefer, sir? Paying your respects to an open bar, or standing watch all evening at the startport, where no doubt all the ships there are because of this fuction....therefore THERE would be a lot less active than HERE." "Corporal, we're in the presence of the Chief of State.", after all, if Leia addressed him and Tarkis did, then it stands to reason that the Bothan is also near the Chief of State. "A salute would be in order now." Any party where he is not permitted to wear his official party uniform, and especially one like this one, calls for the utmost level of decorum. A brow is arched as he waits for his request-command to be followed through on, and after a moment he turns to Lemos. "Senator, if you would do me the honour, I would appreciate your autograph. Your contribution to the military and the Republic in general is more than enough to make you a hero in our eyes, and heros are expected to give them.", the slight jest is immediately pushed aside, and Rasi returns to a more formal behavior with a quickly-added, "Sir." Leia smiles at Lemos, "We should, shouldn't we. It provides the people a chance to brush elbows with their representatives. And, in turn, reminds the Senators whom they actually represent," she remarks, her gaze disconcertingly direct as she makes a pointed glance around the room before her gaze turns towards Commander Cen. "Ahh, commander, but it is I who am honored by your presence in return. The skill with which you have conducted yourself in these war games has been spoken of, several times, by the observing flag officers." She pauses again, the threads of the conversations intertwining as a young looking Bothan Corporal joins the conversation, "Good eve, Corporal Kayl'bre," she says in greeting, once more making an effort to keep the conversation casual and side stepping the usual formalities of formal greetings. As she speaks the elderly gentleman near the door again lifts his voice to announce the arrival of the Caspian delegation, Presav Mahon along with the captains and commanders of the Caspian Naval vessels that participated in the fleet exercises. Lemos has had more experience than he would prefer to have at things like this. It isn't so much that he doesn't see the value in having the occasional public event to show people that the military is still functioning--his problem is more along the lines of how the military is functioning. Personally--and publicly, although to a somewhat lesser degree in defernce to the amount of hardships they have had to deal with over the past couple of years--he would rather see the military celebrated for an astonishing victory rather than the comparitively normal act of completing a series of war games. Still, Lemos is far from stupid and isn't planning on bringing these thoughts to bear in a room nearly completely occupied by the military, so he doesn't plan on doing so. "True," Lemos agrees with the Chief of State, "The quorums have been quite lax lately...personally, I find that quite disturbing, considering the fact that they get paid anyway despite their penchant for tardiness and their absence from critical proceedings. Good luck pushing that through, though," Lemos offers with a small wink before hearing someone say something to his right. "My autograph?" Lemos asks with a somewhat blank look at Rasi after finishing his statement to the Chief of State, his eyes blinking a few times during a pause in between sentences. "I'm far from a hero, my dear boy. I simply sit beneath you and do my best to make sure that you have what you need to do what you do, which is far more heroic than squeezing a few thousand more credits through the purse-strings of the budget commitee. But, if you insist," Lemos takes the styles and makes a sort of sqiggly line surrounded by two dots. The armored man slips in among the gathered guests, his arrival announced only by the distinctive armor clashing with the formal attire of the others present. A streak of wet crimson across his torso armor accompanied by a few spatters of the same on his gunmetal gray helmet. Aranzael makes his way quietly to the banquet table to examine the available fare. Tarkis bows smartly to Leia in reply, "Good evening Senator, it is an honor to meet you. And might I add from a 'layman's perspective', that aye, Commander Cen's zeal for tactical...and ceremonial...protocol is quite strong. I know a good handful of Marine who would have been lost a long time ago were it not for the support he and his men provide us." He then turns and offers a polite smile and half-bow to the Commander. A cunning way to remind the Commander to recheck the rules for military customs and courtesies....but then again what would one expect from a Bothan? Wandering a bit deeper into the affair, Malif moves a bit more boldly to get a look at the chief of state. his robe whispers across the floor, he does not familiar armor and a slight exspression of amusement touches his features. A few of the faces he met after the engagmets. But still he is reserved in the encounters, his status perhaps at best questionable. With most of the guests having arrived, Enb'Zik makes it to the gathering a little on the late side. He was /not/ trying to arrive "fashionably late," as some tend to do at these functions. Frankly, such behavior isn't fashionable at all; it's rude. Thus, he makes no big show when he enters, but does so quietly, even going so far as to come in through a side door so as to avoid being announced. Rank did have /some/ privileges, after all. The Sullustan is alone tonight, too. Taking a place near one wall, not far from where a familiar Twi'lek is busying himself with reading plaques, Enb'Zik folds his arms behind his back and takes time to discern the goings on. Leia with her ever-present group of suppositioners (most of them the good kind, of course) -- including Senator Ackinbrac. That draws a smile to Enb'Zik's face, for it's been far too long since the two have encountered one another. Then there is the arrival of the Caspians. And the member of the Defence Council, Aranzael, the only other person Zik sees immediately who serves with him on Leia's cabinet. Finally nodding, feeling he has a good grasp of the goings on, Enb'Zik looks to his left and turns that typical pleasant look toward Alistair. "You know, my friend," he speaks just loudly enough to be heard by the Twi'lek, "Most of the important stuff is happening behind you." Alistair doesn't turn to look at Enb'zik. Instead he finishes the plaque he is reading and points, "Did you know the marble here is native? Instead of being imported from another planet?" The blue-hued man flashes a pointy tooth grin as he turns his head to look at Enb'zik. Finally a subtle chuckle escapes and he places a hand over his chest before bowing to the sullustan. Coming out of the bow, the twi'lek still wears the grin. To be completely honest, the twi'lek wasn't a hundred percent sure why he came. Lately however, he had only left the temple once or twice. "Eh. I wouldn't know what the important stuff was even if it smacked me in the face .. how are you, my friend?" Leia's response to Lemos is, perhaps, a bit of an unusual smile accompanied by, "We will have to see about that. One of the boons of public service is that the office itself can be revoked according to the terms set forth in the charter of the Republic. You may be surprised, Senator, refreshingly so - I hope - by what you may hear this evening." She smiles a rather enigmatic smile as she shifts her gaze towards the Corporal, responding to the bow with a gracious nod in return, "That is one of the key differences between the Republic and the Empire, is it not? The recognition of good leaders and intelligent soldiers, not just those who know how to play the political game with flare and the accompanying toadying," all of which is said with a faint tracing of humor in her voice. Her gaze roams over the room again, making note of the new arrivals, catching a gaze here and there, a nod of her head as a gesture to indicate welcome to the gathering and more to invite to join the group she is speaking with. "Since the Fleet's Support Corps are as important as its Gunners, then it stands to reason that a soldier is as important as a civilian who contributes to the military's victory. And one that ensures that our military is in top shape and excellent condition is worthy of praise as much as any commander who wins a battle or captures a planet.". While most of the time he speaks rather bluntly, time spent within the business world has imparted on him an ability to speak that 'flowery' and indirect dialect of basic favoured by the general company he is in now, or at least politicians and diplomats in general. And so, the datapad/stylus combination is still held out for the Mon Calamari. Ever the multitasker, Rasi looks at the Bothan and acknowledges his reply with a quick nod, no doubt he will have something or other for him later. "If I am given permission to, Madam, I would respectfully disagree with that last statement of yours." Turning slightly so that she faces Commander Cen directly, Leia nods once as she replies, "You do not need permission to disagree, Commander. In fact, I encourage it. In fact, I not only encourage it, but I'd like to hear your perspective." Still positioned in his spot near one of the bars, glass in hand but noticably lacking in refreshment now, Vaughan continues to watching the people as they enter. And then, as the armored figure arrives Atton cannot help but smile. Quirking an eyebrow he raises his glass to down the rest of his glass as he watches the armored man enter. Then as he is watching, Vaughan over hears the mention of the Republic and the Empire in the same sentence. This quirks his attention, drawing his ear to the rest of the conversation, or at least what he can hear here and there, that is. Taking a few steps towards the group to catch more of the conversation he stands a few paces behind Alistair. Aranzael walks slowly down the banquet table, the visor on his helmet scanning to and fro, inspecting the vast array of dishes. Wiping a black-gloved hand on his half cape, he leans over the table and shoves his fingers into a bowl, lifting a pinched bundle of noodles closer to his visor. After a moment of examination, the noodles fall back into the bowl with an quiet 'plop' before the Mandalorian moves further down the table. "Judging by the look of those bartenders, being smacked in the face might be a real possibility," Enb'Zik replies, his voice still kept very low so as to not draw attention in their direction. He returns Leia's nod with a subtle but sincere bow and a smile. Soon, when things are a little less busy around the Chief of State, he'll walk over and apologize for his tardiness. An apology is bad form, though, if it interrupts those who came on time. "I'm well, Alistair, thank you. How about you?" He gives the marble an appraising look and a soft chuckle, reaching out to lay his hand on its cool, smooth surface. The black pommelstone on his lightsaber is quite a similar material. His eyes go to Vaughan as the semi-familiar man comes close, and idly, the Sullustan draws on the Force to listen better to certain conversations going on in various parts of the room -- but only ones he'd be invited to. He's not here to eavesdrop tonight. Aranzael walks slowly down the banquet table, the visor on his helmet scanning to and fro, inspecting the vast array of dishes. Wiping a black-gloved hand on his half cape, he leans over the table and shoves his fingers into a bowl, lifting a pinched bundle of noodles closer to his visor. After a moment of examination, the noodles fall back into the bowl with an quiet 'plop' before the Mandalorian moves further down the table. "Judging by the look of those bartenders, being smacked in the face might be a real possibility," Enb'Zik replies, his voice still kept very low so as to not draw attention in their direction. He returns Leia's nod with a subtle but sincere bow and a smile. Soon, when things are a little less busy around the Chief of State, he'll walk over and apologize for his tardiness. An apology is bad form, though, if it interrupts those who came on time. "I'm well, Alistair, thank you. How about you?" He gives the marble an appraising look and a soft chuckle, reaching out to lay his hand on its cool, smooth surface. The black pommelstone on his lightsaber is quite a similar material. His eyes go to Vaughan as the semi-familiar man comes close, and idly, the Sullustan draws on the Force to listen better to certain conversations going on in various parts of the room -- but only ones he'd be invited to. He's not here to eavesdrop tonight. Lemos hasn't seen Enb'Zik for quite a while beyond a small hello in the nearby park, mostly because of his illness. Now that he was back in the political scene apart from throwing his vote in for a few pieces of legislation through a proxy member of his staff sitting in his chair on the Senate and in the numerous comiitees he was a member of, and the few that he chaired. Lemos listens to the reinforcing words of the Chief of State. "I certainly hope so," he answers, wondering why she is beign so enigmatic. Not being notified of any potential policy changes beforehand just goes to show exactly how much political capital he has lost and has to regain. "You would do well as a philosopher," Lemos smiles at Rasi, making a reference to the fact that he used to teach the subject. "Still, I think the man who risks his life to pull the trigger deserves more praise than the man who gave him the gun to do it," he offers a friendly wink to the officer. Stepping into the atrium, Krackor Reincus takes a deep breath and considers for a moment turning around and heading back the way he had come. What in the galaxy had possessed him to come here? The room he was standing in was mostly occupied by the types of beings the old smuggler wanted absolutely nothing to do with. Shaking his head and muttering to himself, he weaves his way through the crowded room; heading straight for the bar. If he was going to hang around here, he was going to need a drink or three. Only a few moments more are spent in a bit of mental debate, whats the worst that could happen. in theory nothing at the worst. So with these thoughts running through his mind, he steps into the circle of people around the Cheif of state. He had met and talked to the Imperial Head of State, might as well meet the otherside of the idealogical coin. So one in amid them he gives a nod to Rasi whom he has met on more then one occasion and then directs his attention to the central figure of the gathering. "It goes well I think. I'm feel much better, especially after our little encounter. It felt kind of negative then, but I think getting it out .. at least a little bit .. is a little bit." Alistair smiles. "Though I've spent the last few days cooped up, figured I would take this opportunity to .. well, you know, I don't actually know." Alistair laughs looking embarrassed. A quick nod, and after a second is taken to make a mental note to later thank his lucky stars that his comment wasn't taken the wrong way, and Rasi gathers his thoughts. "Based on my personal experiences fighting over these past few years, notably at Cochran, Bimmiel, Coruscant, so on and so forth. Imperial leaders are for the most part as competent as ours in general. What differentiates us and them is that they are perhaps gifted or perhaps hindered by a certain ruthlessness and level of political acumen that is necessary for them to not only progress but stay alive within the Empire's government and military. Certainly, toadies and the like are there, for the most part, they are quite competent officers and bureaucrats. It is also that ruthlessness and political acumen that gives those same officers an insufferable degree of arrogance that makes the Empire unstable lest there is a strong and stabilizing higher command, and makes them slightly predictable when it comes to campaign strategy and battle tactics." The wink is caught and Rasi nods in return, putting away the datapad, that's one more addition to his growing collection. The new arrival among them, one he has surprisingly found to be with the CDU in these wargames, is given a quick nod. "Mister Tal-Tahn, a pleasure to see you again." Remembering that encounter, Enb'Zik tilts his head and looks Alistair over, gauging him. "You shouldn't feel bad about it, you know," Enb'Zik states. Crossing his arms, he moves to stand side-by-side with the blue-skinned Twi'lek where they can both watch the room at large, "The way you blocked my ability to foresee your actions through the Force was as impressive as anyone I've ever encountered. I don't think my wife has figured that out, yet, as she has tremendous willpower. Furthermore, your speed was blinding, Alistair." He shakes his head, "The only way I was able to beat you was by the sheer experience of years spent sparring with a three-meter-tall Kasa Horansi that outmasses me by five times." Leia studies Commander Cen for a silent moment before she replies, "I can see that something is omitted from your personnel jacket, Commander," she begins in a thoughtful tone of voice. "You are very observant and astute, and the statement you've just made not only proves that, but it also speaks to your professional take regarding the difference between the Republic Military and the Imperial one. Very well spoken indeed. What is so often overlooked when it comes to the approach to warfare, if we break it down to 'us' verses 'them' is their willingness to die to achieve a specific objective - no matter how small or insignificant it may seem to us. Whereas we believe that an individual, any individual, would as much Live to achieve such a goal as die for one." Malif regards the words of the commander for a moment and then smiles slightly. "There is really only a superficial differances between any Military force. Tactics in the end are determined by the intent of a strategic goal." the near human remarks into the group. "War is war...soldiers are soldiers, regardless of the uniforms they wear and there are only so many ways to win a battle." he sips from his drink and gives a casual shrug to follow up his remark. Once at the bar, Krackor leans forward to get the attention of one of the bartenders. "Corellian ale." he says, deciding at the last minute to order something other than what he can usually be seen drinking. Mostly because the old smuggler figured that a place like this might not even carry something so strong. When his drink finally arrives, the Tatooinian turns to get a look around and see if he can spot any familiar faces. Alistair puts up a hand, casting a sidelong glance to Enb'zik. "You exaggerate, I am sure. I was unable to hold my focus for more than a handful of moments, and I severely confused myself. I hadn't expected anything like that to happen." A few moments of silence. "Also, I have a hard time imagining /anything/, much less a Sullustan lasting two seconds against a three meter tall Horansi! Heh heh - the scenario only happens one way." The twi'lek holds up his hands, and makes a swatting motion with one at the other and simulates the hand going flying. To add to the effect, Alistair whistles and then finally concludes with a "Plop!" Lemos takes another drink before his current one and ordering another one, putting another small cube of purple sugar into the drink and letting it cloud the drink from a glowing green to a growing purple. He watches the drink for a few moments intensely, like a surgeon studing a subject or a mathematician studying a formula. "Yes, well, unfortunately for us, they can afford to throw lives away to acheive a minor objective. That is a luxury that we can not afford, nor one that I would choose to indulge in even if we could." Lemos leans back slightly, letting his elbows lay on the bar in thought. "You know...in my office, there's a suit of armor made by one of the precursors of the Echani civilization. Each and every one of eighty-seven artisans put sixteen months into the construction of a piece of it at the exclusion of other piece of work. Sixteen months went into the construction of the breastplate, and sixteen months went into the construction of the visor. In and of itself, this doesn't really mean anything--this hyperfocus type of construction is common on resource-poor planets, but the interesting part is this. The culture of this part of the planet was still in the ages of bows, arrows, and swords made of folded metal, and they were invaded by a colony ship with energy-weapon armed colonists whose inhabitants thought that they could steal some natural resource or other." Lemos looks up and grins a little. "The Echani came about about eight hundred years later, who do you think got wiped out?" To lighten the mood, he considers saying 'They also have no sense of style, grays whites and blacks will only hold you for so long', but does anyone picture him saying that, really? Instead, Rasi simply nods, "Thank you Madam. That is what is expected of me by my superiors, and those are traits I share with all of my colleagues, including the Corporal here.", there is no better way to cast the spotlight off of himself then to sacrifice one of his underlings to it. "Mr. Tal-tahn, I believe there is a striking difference between winning a region by razing it to the ground so there is no one left to fight you, and no inhabitants to "rule" and winning a region through superior maneuvers, planning and training. The difference is what makes us-us, and them-them." Again the naval officer when the Mon Calamari says something he agrees with, his esteem for the Senator growing. "Any comparison between an Imperial soldier and one from the New Republic are moot. One fights because he is forced to or because they wish for more power. The other fights because he wishes to defend what is his, and what is right." Ikihsa casts a look across the room at Malif as he picks up that part of their conversation. His brow creases, and it seems the Sullustan would disagree with some part of what the man has deduced. However, Enb'Zik is not yet part of that conversation, and for now he chooses to keep it that way. Indeed, his glance itself had been so brief as to be hardly noticeable. His attention going back to Alistair, Enb'Zik replies to the man in a way that leaves little room for argument. It's almost stern, in fact, but delivered in the manner of a student who has learned a lesson: "You /were/ impressive, Alistair. Self doubt can do as much to inhibit you as any lack of ability or experience. Accept that, and move forward. If I were you, I would be more concerned over the anger which you harbor toward Eson." Zik pauses at that and holds the Twi'lek's gaze. And then he breaks the potential tenseness with a soft laugh at Alistair's gesticulations and adds, "Believe me, that is the outcome more often than not, yes. Though it does happen less frequently now than it once did." He winks. And against /smaller/ opponents, Enb'Zik can be quite fierce. It seems that the CDU task force in-system has granted its fair share of shore leaves concurrent with the event. And as such, many Caspian uniforms have steadily been filtering into the room. Truth be told, they haven't sent all of their Captains and flag officers to this event, though there are representatives of all eight ships, the task force command, and the embarked Marine forces present. It's the sort of delegation one would expect them to send if they didn't want to compromise the effectiveness of the task force in case of unexpected emergencies. Amid all of these spacers, Mahon looks a little out of place. He looks like a grunt. But he's dressed in civilian attire which somehow seems rather reluctant. Mahon hesitates, sweeping the room with his flinty gaze, before he starts to make a bee-line approach towards Leia. Malif drains his drink and gives a rueful smile at the counter to his remark. "As I said, there are only so many ways to win a battle. It depends on your intent as an attacking force." his tone is soft and patient. "Razing a world can be done for more then one reason and often it is not to take control of it as much as it is meant to deprive the opposition of one its resources and two its viability of a staging ground." he gives an apologetic look at the leia. "Besides...the idea that all Imperial personel fight out of fear is a false one." He turns the glass in his hand as he continues to speak. "There are those who belive in the Imperial Doctrines, who fight with the same steadfast belief and loyalty that any New Republic officer has." he lifts a hand as if to ward off protests. " None here have to belive this...I simply present facts as they exist. It is tactically unstable footing to assume that propaganda from any side on completely true." Light hearted, Alistair speaks. "It is a point of concern, but it is pretty tough to let go of. It is hard to explain. He tried to kill me, friends, put someone I cared deeply about in unnecessary danger.." the twi'lek laughs and gestures with both hands. "Two years since the last I saw him, and he still caused me strife! Back on tatooine - that was entirely his doing!" With a grin he shakes his head. "I don't know. It's tough. It was a moment of weakness, very uncharacteristic. But thank you for the compliment, I was able to take away a great deal of experience from that little spar." "Another of those key differences, Senator, is that we view each life as unique. It is not stamped and processed, such as a clone is. Though, when it comes to that, clones fight with a level of ferocity that should not be taken lightly. They will throw themselves towards the objective they are ordered to accomplish, with a single minded sense of devotion that is .." Leia pauses then continues, "remarkable. And humbling, in some ways. And I would agree, Mister Tal-Tahn, that while war is war, and soldiers are soldiers, irregardless of what uniform worn or which individual they swear too. Death comes to us all, but in the end, when the fall is all that is left, the manner in which a soldier dies Does matter, does it not?" Another one of those pauses is made as she listens to the conversation again, the crowd parting briefly and allowing her a glimpse through the room and to the approach of the Caspian Presav, a nod of greeting is offered before Mahon even arrives within easy speaking distance, "Presav Mahon, you and your people honor us with your presence," she says as she steps forward to greet the arriving dignitary. Lemos nods at Malif. "One man's terrorist is another man's freedom fighter; the point that the Empire cares little for other's freedom is moot when they control the holochannels. Still, it has been said that one main fighting to protect his own land is more potent in combat than five hired soldiers." Lemos takes a much more liberal sip of his drink than he has before this evening before continuing. "Whatever is said before the battle, however, war is war--ultimately every soldier does their best, which is all that can be asked of them," he gives a noticable smile to the assorted officers around him. As Leia speaks, Enb'Zik looks again in the direction of that conversation. His eyes linger quietly on the Chief of State, and he seems to be thinking for a moment. Then he turns back to Alistair. His expression turns serious in a manner beyond his years. "Be mindful of your attitude, my friend. I am of the persuasion that the Dark Side is not only for those sensitive to the Force. It can creep up on any of us. I am learning a great respect for those of your order, and I have a feeling that such teachings about anger are as important in your teachings as they are in those of the Jedi." His inquiring expression asks, are they not? The bartenders all look at each other in confusion at the Mandalorian's request. Aranzael shrugs, and retreats to a far corner, affording himself of a view of the main entrance. He unseals his helmet and removes it, clasping it to his belt before running a hand through his graying hair. A wry smile forms on his scarred face as his ears pick up various snippets of conversation pertaining to war. Removing the meat from his belt, he tears off a chunk, nodding approvingly to himself as he chews, casually scanning the guests with bright, alert eyes. Keeping one ear to the conversation going on about the differences that the Empire seems to have, Vaughan simply chuckles as they continue to go on and on about it. His eyes, on the other hand, are drawn back to the gentleman in Mandalorian armor. Handing his glass to a passing waiter and receiving a new one, the Corellian simply watches the man take off his helmet. Remembering their last encounter, Vaughan simply chooses to remain silent as his attention draws back to the group that seems to be growing around the Chief of State. Crossing his arms over his chest, Vaughan simply listens with great interest as to where this conversation, now having to do with terrorists, is going. "If you would excuse me for a moment, there is a matter I must attend to.", and with a sharp bow to all those gathered around, Rasi begins to walk away, soon fading into the crowd. Just then, a collective murmur goes through the crowd gathered here, a space being created for a pair of men who walk towards a platform set up for just this occasion. The two of them are quite easy to recognize. The one occupying the lead position being a well-dressed Mon Calamari, his uniform being decked with all sorts of insignia, from rank pins to medals and ribbons. Admiral Ackbar, despite his advanced age, walks with his back arched straight and his hands clasped behind him. At his side, and only half a step behind him is the no-less distinguished General Riekkan, his gaze travelling over the crowd, and out of respect for his colleague, it is the Mon Calamari that addresses the crowd. "If I could have your attention, Ladies and Gentlemen.", his voice amplified by the microphone he speaks into, but its natural inspiring tone is not lessened by it. Mahon's expression is one of impeccable stoicism, his posture belying his military background as he stands before Leia. And he has this way of looking at people that can make them feel a little bit like a bug under a microscope - as if they're being analyzed and all of their weaknesses methodically catalogued for future use. And for a moment, he gazes back at Leia in just such a fashion, before he allows a hint of a smirk to appear at the corners of his mouth. And then he steps forth and takes Leia's hand for what might be considered a rather vigorous handshake. And when he speaks, it is with a low, easygoing tone suggestive of an upbringing in locales that are quite frankly backwoods. Podunk, even... but somehow refined over the years. "Thank you, Madame Minister. Quite the get together you've thrown for us all." The handshake that Leia gives in return is just as firm without the need to make it a challenge, her head inclining again in a nod that is accompanied by a warm smile, "It's the absolute least I could do. Plus, it gives all of us a chance to speak on a face to face basis instead of via the usual modes of communication. So much is lost over holo term, official communique, or even through the words and deeds of our ambassadors. And while a formal gathering isn't the best way to do some things, it will suffice for the moment," she says before she excuses herself from the group and makes her way towards the platform for join Admiral Ackbar and General Riekkan. Aranzael glances briefly at the military leaders approaching the podium as he finishes off the meat. Returning to the banquet table, he tosses the bones down, then picks up a napkin to wipe his face, which is thrown down to join the bones. Removing his helmet from his belt, he notices the droplets of blood and casually wipes them off with his thumb before placing the helmet upon his head and fastening the seals. He chuckles softly at a private joke as he makes his way out of the room. "There are some who do not agree with the wargames, and others who have said that the resources used for these exercises would have been better used elsewhere. My colleagues in the high command of the military, and myself more specifically, will address those concerns once more. THe wargames have been designed to increase our capacity to best and defeat Imperial forces." He pauses then, letting his words make their way through the crowd and let what few reporters have been permitted entry into this event add their own comments. "In past times, and particularly these recent years, the effectiveness of the military has been put into question. There have been recommendations for our military that involved outright dismantling it, or even enforcing a paycut for those brave beings that were fighting for the safety of all citizens of the New Republic." "But It is not my place to respond to those criticisms with anything else other than that single phrase, nor is it mine to single out those who made it. Despite calls to be as acrimonious as some have been, on both sides, despite advice from others that I join in the...debate. I will not do so, and I speak for all my colleagues in the Directorship of the military when I say this. It is our responsibility to behave as we are expected to, and we are expected to provide an example for each and every member of the military we command, and it is our responsibility to live up to the reputation for constructive debate as well as respect shown by other members of the Republic's government. Notably the Chief of State, and Senator Ackinbrac.", a nod given to the both of them, but aside those two gestures, Ackbar does not stop in his speech. While he does not speak any louder than before, his every word seems more intense, more heartfelt, that talent for inspirational speech he is known to have once more put into display. "This is the vow that all of us in the Admiralty and other branches' commanders give to you. From this day forward, each and every action of the Republic's military will be done with utmost professionalism, with great pride, and with extreme skill. There might be setbacks, and there might even be losses, as is common in any war, but we will never give up, we will never lose heart, and we shall never retreat. From this day, the Republic's military will live up as it has in the past to its reputation for excellence. Each and every one of us, from the most recent recruit to the highest General or Admiral, will strive to live up to that trust placed in us by those citizens we are protect. We /will/ live up to their trust, and we will make certain that the horrors commited by the Empire never again reoccur, the days of Cochran or Sluis Van are over. And to those loyal Republican souls under Imperial tyranny, you have not been forgotten, your lives are still dear to us. And at this very moment we work to liberate you from the yoke of petty upstart tyrants." He steps back from the microphone, waiting until such a time as he is sure he can continue. Once the Admiral concludes his speech, and to the general applause from the military personnel, Leia steps forward to address the assembled guests. "It is said that when the Republic was forced to retreat from Coruscant that we yielded too much. That we were too easily willing to accept defeat and fall back. It is said that we are so entrenched in defending our borders that we no longer look to the stars, nor look to our neighbors, with the hope of some day defeating the darkness that the Empire brings. It is said that we have become lazy, or worse - indifferent - to the war that continues tirelessly." She pauses, her gaze sweeping over the crowd, "I often wonder - those who say these things, do they believe what they say? The republic is not the land, nor the planet, the skies above or the oceans. The republic is not commodities, wealth, titles, houses, or even the very clothing on our backs, the food that we eat. The republic is the people, and even if all else is yielded - surrendered - the Republic stands and does so with each breath that we take, each measure that we fight. The republic is represented in this room. I ask you all to look around you, see the faces of the people that you stand beside, the soldiers who wear the uniform of the Republic. I remind you, on and all, that ours is a civilian militia comprised entirely of volunteers. Not conscripts. Soldiers who have volunteered to do their part to fight for the freedoms that we so cherish. The freedom to say aloud the very comments that cast such despite upon the government itself. Upon our military." She falls silent again, letting her words settle before continuing, "Perhaps there is something to be said when the people no longer believe that we represent their beliefs, their ideals, or that we no longer understand what they endure on a daily basis. To that end, I will be calling for general elections to be held within the next few months. All senatorial seats will be open for discussion, ambassadors will be invited to attend - even from Imperial held worlds. It is time to clean house, ladies and gentlemen. And every office, mine included, is left to the people themselves to determine who best does the task at hand. For this is not a job for the weak of heart or mind, it is not a task for those who seek only to vote for themselves bread and circuses. The military fights for these freedoms, and it is the responsibility of the people to make sure that the freedoms that we fight for are tended too - and represented equally." With those spoken words she steps back, yielding the floor again to Ackbar and Riekkan. Mahon looks for a moment as if he's about to say something additional to Leia, but the commencement of Ackbar's speech causes him to fall silent. Shrewdly, he snatches a glass of something that he hopes contains at least a bit of alcohol off of the tray. Tight-lipped, he looks on stoically, his gaze sweeping the room to take in the responses of others. Some of 'his' officers can be seen to be quietly picking apart the speeches, exchanging speculations. Mostly, they are just being politely quiet, though there's a few grim smirks and whispered quips exchanged here and there. Lemos seems to be mildly surprised at the announcement, although it doesn't seem to bother him any. Whether he's in a position of public service here or somewhere else is of no concern to him, he just wants to see the citizens of the galaxy have what he believes they deserve, as unrealistic and cheesy at that sounds for someone in his position. Inwardly smiling, Lemos looks around at some of his less morally-minded colleagues, wondering how many of them will remain after these elections and who they might be replaced with if they happen to suffer the misfortune if removed. The applause for Leia's speech, perhaps more thunderous than that for his own, is more than enough to drawn out what a few malcontents say, and the exclamations of a few. Those military officers present here, and there is a majority of them in the people assembled here, more than boisterous enough to draw the attention of the reporters and cameramen away from those who disagree with what either of them just said. Carlist himself just smiles, inclining his head towards Ackbar so that he may exchange a few words with the Admiral. Whatever passes between the two is lost in the tumult that has yet to die down, but it did bring a smile to the otherwise serious features of the Mon Calamari, softening them considerably. Ackbar steps up to the microphone once more. "How can we, those in the military, not give the absolute, sacrifice and shed every blood and tear that it is within us so that we could give our people, our brothers and sisters safe. To go back to the subject of the wargames, it is the conclusion of my colleague, General Riekkan and I, as well as those within the Wargames Planning Board, that these joint exercises were an absolute success. Ones that will make certain that we can defend our people, and free those that we need to free from the Empire. Therefore, it is time that we make public the efforts of those who have contributed both to these wargames as well as countless other operations performed by the military. And it is time that those individuals receive their hard-earned rewards and praise." Ackbar steps back then, letting Carlist handle this part of their role in this night's events. Unlike the Admiral, Riekkan is a soft-spoken individual more suited to private conversations or more professional surroundings than these. "Brigadier General Ikihsa Enb'zik, if you would please step forward." An aide walks to Carlist's side then, handing him a velvet-covered box. A long time had passed since Enb'Zik had been given an award. Having retired from the military and gone to Reserve status, he'd participated in the wargames primarily as a way to sharpen his own skills, which he'd found waning after so much time spent in government offices and on diplomatic missions. Indeed, this catches him quite by surprise. It's an important point that the Sullustan did not come tonight wearing his formal military uniform, but is here wearing the same ubiquitous style of robe he's worn for most of the past year. Folding his hands in his sleeves, he shows little of what he's thinking as he glances at those around him almost apologetically and makes his way toward the dais. Once there, the Jedi Padawan bows respectfully to both Ackbar and Riekkan, then as he stands, lifts his right hand to his forehead and executes a crisp salute to both of them. Both actions show his utmost respect for the men before he turns to the podium and clears his throat. "Every other time they've brought me up here, it's been for something done in service of the Republic Starfighter Corps. They must have hidden General Antilles back on Kitchen Patrol to keep me from figuring out what they had in mind." A chuckle goes through the crowd as Enb'Zik pauses to collect his thoughts, a playfully wry smile peeking from beneath his dewflaps. He turns and looks over his shoulder at Ackbar and Riekkan as if to ask them exactly what they /do/ have in mind, and then he turns back to the crowd. "For anyone who doesn't know me or hasn't somehow figured it out already, I am a Jedi. As well as serving the Republic military as a brigadier general in the Reserves, I am honored to serve as Chief of State Organa-Solo's advisor on the subject of Jedi Affairs. And I am an Ambassador." He lifts a hand and waves it, shaking his head as if they mean nothing, and he looks to Leia. "I overheard a conversation earlier tonight about our soldiers. Someone said that soldiers are soldiers no matter which side they fight for. That they are all the same, regardless of their allegiance, and that in the end, there are only so many ways to win." He shakes his head again, "Let me tell you why the New Republic will win this in the end. It's because of hope. It's because of conviction. It's because of the conviction that what we fight for is right. There are those in the Empire who believe what they fight for is right, but what we fight for is freedom. What we fight for is our children. And our grandchildren. Our wives. Our husbands. Our parents. So that tomorrow will be better than today. So that we can live the way we /want/ to live, according to our own order, without an unnatural order being imposed on us by someone else. We fight so that those we love can live without fear that a government -- a government that FEARS /THEM/ -- might murder them and destroy their entire world in order to quiet their voices of dissent." Enb'Zik stops himself. He tends to ramble sometimes and knows that, and he takes a breath while he lets those things sink in. His eyes go from person to person in the audience as he collects himself and gets back to his point: "That is why we will win. And that is why the Jedi work alongside the New Republic - because the Republic does what is /right/ for everyone, and not for just a few in power." He finally turns back to Ackbar and Riekkan, "Gentlemen, I thank you for this award, whatever award it may be. I daresay every man or woman who has ever sacrificed his or her time with family, his or her career, his or her financial well-being, his or her /dreams/ in life in order to take up arms and defend the dreams and freedoms of others... deserves to be up here to receive it." Such a long speech had not been planned for, but Carlist permits it, letting the Sullustan speak, and by the nod he gives the 'mouse' when he's done, the General does not regret that decision. When he is certain the Sullustan is finished, the General walks forward, opening the small box and revealing just what type of medal is contained within. "General Enb'zik, for a lifetime of service to the Republic, and for many years spent within our military in active duty. You are hereby awarded the New Republic Superior Service Medal.", the box is put on the nearby podium while he pins the award to the Jedi's robe. "It is our hope that you will cast aside that robe and join us once more leading this military in active duty. But whether or not that happens, it is my belief that your actions will always benefit the Republic." Ikihsa waits until the medal is pinned on and smiles warmly at Rieekan, shaking his hand firmly after the award is conferred. Receiving such a thing is always a source of pride, though the Sullustan will carefully remove it from his robe and store it away once the evening is done. "Thank you, Sir," he replies, "My calling as a Jedi is a lifelong commitment, but one I've no doubt will lead to many more occasions of working alongside the military. Though the fewer the better, Sir. Fewer instances mean a shorter war." He dips his head while the typical applause goes through the audience, and then, as the Republic military's leaders move on to the night's other awards, the Sullustan quietly slips off stage. A few minutes and several dozen handshakes later, Enb'Zik has managed to make his way back to where the Chief of State is standing. Taking Leia aside, Enb'Zik leans close to speak something into her ear and motions toward a side door. Whatever he's said, his actions indicate that he's requesting a chance to speak with her in private, now if possible. With the evening now in the capable hands of Admiral Ackbar and General Riekkan, Leia inclines her head towards Enb'Zik in a nod and, with a measured glance around the crowded room, quietly speaks to Ackbar before she moves to accompany her advisor off of the podium. While it is still early enough in the evening, she is certain that the party that will continue after the formalities are taken care of. A nod is given to the Jedi, it was a slim hope that Carlist would convince him, and more formality than anything, but it was worth a try. "Well said General.", with that person taken care of, Carlist moves to the podium once more. "Soldiers and Jedis are not the only ones who receive honours and awards from the military. In the Republic, each and every single one of us, from civilian to soldier to civil servant, is considered equal, and all of them have equal chances of earning certain awards." He lets a few moments pass before continuing, letting the hushed whispers of curiousity build before he looks at the intended recipient. Lemos, the Mon Calamari Senator. "Senator Lemos Ackinbrac, if you would please join us here, it is time that you receive what you are long due." Lemos grins a little at Zik's words, which sounded quite similar to one that he gave a while back on Coruscant for the celebration of the victory of the Battle of Endor. Those were happier times. Well, perhaps happy wasn't the right word, but they were better times, even if he would rather have people look at the situation from a more optimistic viewpoint. Still, the Sullustan has done quite a bit for the Republic and deserved to be recognizes, Lemos thinks, absently sipping his drink as he watches him leave the room and trying to keep his curiosity as to what he whispered into the Chief of State's ear to minimum obviousness. He wasn't suspecting anything to be said about /him/, of all people. He sighed a little. Accepting awards had never been his strong point--in fact, to be honest, he hated doing it. It always made him feel guilty, like he was taking something from someone else. But refusing awards was considered rude in nearly every culture, and Lemos wasn't going to start making that a habit now. He makes his way up to the podium and sets his cane in front of him behind it, using the podium itself as something to balance on instead, giving a small smile to the people around him. "Usually I'm the one /giving/ these things, not receiving them. Personally, I think that putting someone up on the podium without prior notice is one of the worst things you can do to someone. That's something that should be reserved for trial lawyers and students," he says, pausing for a small smile. "Joking aside, however...when I was on Coruscant, I stayed as long I could. From my house--or what used to be my house, it's probably inhabitated by a nephew of the planetary governor now--I could see some of the fiercest fighting. On one of the roads going off the one beneath my balcony, I could see a squad holding their position against numbers at least four times their own. They did quite well in the urban setting, moving in between buildings and alleyways in little ambushes...but it wasn't enough. They got picked off here and there by lucky shots from the stormtroopers until only one of them was left. That one managed to get all of his wounded comrades together behind him against a wall and set up a heavy weapons emplacement. He held his ground for five hours. One man against what had to be hundreds. I never knew what happened to that squad, but I know that they did their duty. I know that they have something the stormtroopers didn't. And that something was compassion. That something is the most important that we have. That something is why we are here today. Those unknowns deserve this much more than I do. And because they are unknown, I want everyone here to think for a minute. Acts of bravery like this are not the exception. They are the norm. That is one of the things that I respect our military so much for. Their courage and compassion in the face of impossible odds. Those two things combined are what make impossible odds possible to beat, and those two things combined are our future. So dwell on that when you're at home tonight, or whenever someone is recognized for something that they do..." Lemos looks around the room pointedly, then at the other people on the podium. Entering the room mid-speech, Lynae quietly enters the atrium and spends the first few moments glancing around at the transformation that the atrium has undergone for this evenings event. Making her way towards a group of Caspian naval officers, she simply finds a place in the group and listens attentively to the rest of the remarks being made while trying to blend in. "Indeed, Senator.", it is not often that Carlist finds himself in agreement with some of the highest politicians they have now, the Borsk Fel'yas and others more than enough to make him consider an early retirement, but then there's situations like these. "Whatever might be said among our circles, and whatever jokes might made about this Senator or that minister in a vessel's lounge or a base's cafeteria. You, Senator Ackinbrac, are among those individuals that make certain those stories are nothing but jokes to pass the time. The selflessness you have shown in Coruscant, the integrity you have shown in the Senate, and the leadership you have displayed in those committees you are member of. Those are the traits and qualities that all citizens of the Republic expect from their chosen leaders. For that reason, Senator, you are hereby being awarded the Medal of the Republic Spirit for Leadership." Carlist takes a medal from the box held by the aide at his side, and without delay pins it to the Mon Calamari's side. "Wear this proudly Senator, you have earned it, and you make all your colleagues in the Senate and the New Republic's government proud." Lemos straightens out slightly as to allow himself to be pinned with the medal without looking like he's being hunched over. In response to the remarks, he nods and says a few thank yous to Carlist and the other people on the platform surrounding the podium before making his way down into the sizeable mass of people in the makeshift convention area. Mahon spares a sidelong glance out of the corners of his eyes for Lynae's arrival as he listens to the speeches. An eyebrow arches subtly. He's probably not the only one to do so for 'Lynae in a dress' is probably what is conventionally considered to be a mind-boggling concept. Oh. Right. Speeches! And it seems to be time for more applause, so Mahon claps politely. When the applause dies down a bit, Carlist turns back to Ackbar, the look between them of the type that speaks volumes. "I will leave the podium to the Admiral now." Ackbar rises then, his part in the awards ceremony now beginning, and as he did before, the elderly man goes to the microphone that has been used until now. "It is time that we acknowledge the role that has been played by the Caspian Union in these wargames. Thanks to their help, an entirely new level has been added, one which we strategists appreciate greatly, and we hope that those in the government feel the same way as I do." He looks over that area where the CDU folks are gathered, or at least where he notices the majority of them to be, seeking out that one person he wishes to address next. "President Thomas C. Mahon, while it is no doubt as much a surprise to you as it is those for some gathered here. I would appreciate if you were to join us on this stage." Varin stands out as do most of those in his position. Never having been one for occasions such as these, he looks particularly uncomfortable in his dress uniform. And since the evening's festivities started, he had been wandering the atrium, hoping to find a reason to excuse himself, or at least something to do. That something is spotted when he sees Lynae, a moment taken to make sure that that is that same person he fought against not too long ago. When that is confirmed, he crosses the space between the two of them, stopping at an appropriate distance. "Were you able to get all that green out of your clothes, Doctor?" Briefly startled, Lynae studies the approaching officer and it's only with the words of greeting and the barest telltale of a paint fleck here or there that she allows a faint smile to form on her face. Nodding slightly and replying in an equally quiet voice, "To some degree, yes sir. Though I think that the solvent required to completely remove the paint might very well eat through the fabric as well." There's a fine thread of amusement in her tone of voice before she falls silent again, her attention returning to the stage as the Presav is called upon to take the stage as well. Mahon appears to squint for a moment, as if in mild disbelief. He peers about the room as if to confirm what he has just heard, then rises to his feet and starts to make his way up to the podium. Surprised. There's a word for it. "You could say that, yes," he's heard to say as he trudges up to meet Ackbar. He fixes the New Republic Admiral with a quizzical gaze, then turns to face those gathered here. "I hope that the next time we do meet on the field, you will not be so inconsiderate as to ruin a man's favourite uniform. I had that one for some time now.", Varin states rather matter-of-factly, his attention turning for a moment to the goings on the stage, but it is just more of the same pomp as before, and it is rather boring to him. "You have my congratulations, Doctor, you performed admirably for someone not used or very experienced in ground combat." Ackbar simply watches the Presav as he approaches, taking a step back so that the man is as much in the spotlight as he is. "As you know, and some here might. I did not get along very well with the man who, I am told, you consider to be your mentor. He was not the ideal Alliance officer, nor was he one that I found it easy to deal with.", rather...direct isn't it? "But I did consider the Admiral as fine an officer as I have seen in my long career, and the Union that I know of today lives up every bit to what I knew him to have wanted in a government. He was a brave man, especially considering the life he could have led, and the glory and rewards the Empire would have given him. And it is with that same bravery and honour that you and your men have fought today, and it is a trait that we in the Republic hold dear." He is handed yet another small box by the same aide as before, the man finally being dismissed after this. "While it is not possible to award each and every man and woman under your command, it is my hope that this will be a way of giving them, and you what you have earned." The small case is opened, and contained within is the same medal as awarded some moments ago to his fellow Mon Calamari. "It is my hope that you will accept the Medal of the Republic Spirit for Bravery." Initially, the 'old man' (as those who've served under him oft refer to him) looks just a little perplexed as he stands there next to the Mon Cal Admiral, listening to the speech. Confusion gives way to a state of wide-eyed bemusement as Ackbar produces the box with the medal in question. It is for a span of many, silent seconds that the Interim Presav of the Union stares at that little bit of metal sitting in that tiny box held in the Mon Cal's hands. "I... don't know what to say," he says finally, honestly, blinking a few times, before he squares his shoulders and turns to face the crowd, his gaze slowly scanning across all of those faces. Lynae keeps her gaze focused on the stage as the Presav is presented with a medal, a broad smile forming on her face, a look of pride evident in the way she glances around to catch the expressions from the other Caspian naval personnel in the room. Adding her own applause to that which rises from the crowd, she replies to Varin in a tone that is equally matter-of-fact. "My apologies," she says in a low voice, "had I known those were your favorite fatigues I'd have selected a junior officer to surrender too," again there's a thread of humor in her tone of voice, but it's not the sort of abrasive humor, but something that speaks to the understanding that uniforms can be replaced, experience cannot. "And thank you, sir, I generally prefer to keep my feet firmly on the deck of a ship - any ship - in combat. I appreciate the patience your soldiers extended and the trust they placed in me for the duration of the exercise." "A 'Yes, it is an honour and pleasure to accept this Admiral.' would be one such possible answer you could offer, Presav.", Ackbar says, his somewhat dour mood lessened by that smile he offers to Mahon. "But ultimately, the choice is yours to make, and it will be respected by us." He falls silent then, leaving time for the human to make his decision. "Indeed, and I will hope that it is your natural skill and not standard Imperial training for all naval officers that shone through then.", after all, if the loungemonkeys are that good, who knows how good the grunts like him have gotten on the enemy's side. The comment given by the Lieutenant only after the applause has died down. In the moment in which the applause dominates Mahon seems to find himself staring directly across the room at Lynae, of all people. He seems, for a moment, to be deep in thought, perhaps what the hell to do about this development. He draws in a breath slowly, then manages a faint nod. Looking aside to Ackbar, he is heard to say, "Oh. It is an honor, for sure." Flinty-grey eyes turn their attention back to the crowd, his expression taking on an incredible solemnity, and when he speaks, it is with a tired-sounding voice, "But in truth, the honor is not rightfully mine, but that of many." He breathes a small sigh, then adds, "There is a temptation to decline this. Some, who would hear of this, will consider it to be one more outrage perpetrated by us upstarts in the Union." Across the room and through the crowd, Lynae replies to Varin with something akin to a true grin, "I was sent through a.." she pauses and coughs faintly, "crash course, so to speak, for naval command. I had, before then, just been a medical officer, so what skills I have are a reflection of some serious time spent studying and trying to not make an absolute fool of myself in combat. That sort of thing is frowned upon, you understand," she adds with a slight shake of her head. Her gaze remains focused on the stage, however, her attention as well focused on the proceedings, multi tasking at its best. The Admiral's smile only grows then, "Then it is a good thing that any who would consider that are not here to voice their misguided opinions.", well, perhaps there's the occasional diplomat who does not like this the least bit, but at least they know well enough to not interupt Ackbar or make their objections known in such a slanted and biased crowd as the one gathered for this ceremony. "If not for yourself directly, then accept it for them, those who participated in these exercises and under your command, and do so in their name." Varin returns the Doctor's smile, "It is a wonder that you are not there, I would have thought that they would decorate you in brass. Though I suppose that won't happen any time soon.", or ever even. "Hrmm," grumbles Mahon thoughtfully, his own gaze turning upwards for a moment in shrewd contemplation. Looking back to Ackbar, he ultimately nods and says, "Alright. Let's do this." He smirks grimly, then turns back to the crowd. For a moment, he's looking back at Lynae again. And then he looks back to Ackbar, informing the Mon Cal in a voice that is heavily tinged with irony, "You realise... that this means that if the Imps ever want to give me a medal for bravery, I'm going to have no choice but to accept it." Lynae chuckles quietly at Varin, "War horses like us don't do the whole stage and fanfare, now do they?" she says quietly with another slight shake of her head. "We're, perhaps, not as diplomatic as would be required for the pomp and ceremony." That said she meets the Presav's gaze with her own, this time inclining her head in the most subtle of gestures, conveying the utmost respect and honor with that so subtle gesture. She allows a look of pure amusement to reflect in her eyes at the notion of attending such a ceremony held on Coruscant and hosted by the Empire instead. Though, her attendance would be followed swiftly by an execution squad. "Yes, but our medals have more character and emotion to them, they also happen to look better.", it is a wonder that this is a man that has just recently enterred his sixtieth year, and one that no doubt carries a large weight on his shoulders given the role he has played in the Alliance first and next the Republic. "And I am under the impression that soldiers and civilians alike, in general anyway, have a better image of their leaders the more decorated they are." The medal is taken from its case, and soon enough it is attached to the black jacket Mahon wears. "Presav Thomas C. Mahon, you are awarded the Medal of the Republic Spirit for Bravery." Varin snickers, and a moment is taken to stare at Lynae with something akin to disbelief adding some expression to his otherwise expresionless face. "In the three decades and more I have been in the service, I have found that no one can get to a rank above that of Captain, your Lieutenant or Lieutenant Commander in the Imperial Navy I think, without having some tolerance for pomp and ceremony and talent for diplomacy. And you have gotten well past the ranks of Lieutenant and Lieutenant Commander." He looks at the clock, old-fashioned to add to the atrium's high-class decorum, on a nearby wall before turning back to Lynae. "If you would excuse me Doctor, I believe it is time for me to get back to duty, my shift is drawing near." "Battlefield promotions, Sir, have a way of advancing one up the food chain at an unexpected rate. It's a matter of holding on to that rank," Lynae says quietly and with a slow shake of her head, "that requires skill and tact. Along with utter devotion to the vision of the Emperor, a willingness to carry out any order, no matter what the order entails. Absolute dedication to a life of service, and the usual forfeit of anything resembling free will or independent thought." All of which is said in a quiet voice with a straight face and such a dead-pan expression that it's impossible to tell if she's joking or if she's relaying the 'facts of life' such as they are for an imperial officer. She nods towards Varin as he checks the time, "Have a good and quiet watch," she replies with a bit of a smile. Mahon isn't any sort of spring mynock himself, though by all accounts he has aged well. There is no frailty of body or mind about him, only a certain wizened air, which has helped him immensely since his abrupt transition into the political realm. "Duly noted. I shall have to bear that in mind," intones Mahon drably, venturing another one of those ironic smirks of his, before he freezes at attention to permit the medal pinning. He has no idea whether or not she's pulling his chain, but Varin simply nods after a while, "I will keep that in mind, Doctor, and compared to this, any watch would be quite a good one. I do hope that you will be able to find a way to extricate yourself from this...party. As you said, it is not the type of place for us." A quick half-bow, and Varin draws away, soon disappearing into the crowd. The medal placed on Mahon's chest, Ackbar raises his hand to his forehead, executing a, perhaps unnecessary, salute. "Wear it proudly Presav, it will do all of us an honour to see it on your person.", he lets the applause take over for a moment, knowing how to behave in ceremonies after much practice going through countless others, "I will not hold you from the banquet any longer.", this said as much for Mahon as it is for those gathered here, "Please enjoy your presence here, we have hard times ahead, and perhaps few occasions to gather as we are now and celebrate. It is our responsibility to take advantage to what little is granted to us as this banquet is. Before I call this to an end.", a moment given to Mahon to draw away should he wish to, "I would thank the Chief of State's office as well as all those who have worked on the atrium and prepared it. Now, please enjoy your time, the true festivities can now begin."
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