| abstract
| - In stark contrast to the rest of Reef Home, the parade grounds has a distinctly inorganic feel to it, with it's squat barracks on either side of the parade grounds, and a garage near the well kept field, just next to the bases' landing pad. To the North is one story building that goes deep into it's foundation: the Operations center where the Navy Commondant resides. Groups of Marine Regulars are frequently seen here, preforming fromation marches around the campus as part of their training. The parade grounds, normally fairly empty of all but the local military personell and officials, is packed to the gills with refugees from Coruscant. They number two million in total, having fled the Imperial invasion in over a hundred ships total, all following the Second Fleet here - to Mon Calamari. Those who still have no been given temporary (or permanent) housing by the local government are here in fairly barebones, makeshift shelters, filling up as quickly as the technicians can fill them. Mitali is standing in the shade of one of the Marine vehicles that has been dispatched to help keep the peace here, a handwritten banner declaring the vehicle to be the current technical logistics headquarters. The Mirialan is helping a team of techs load an emergency power generator onto a small cart to be taken to another of the shelters in progress. Emerging from the crowd assembled for the sole purpose of checking out the Marine vehicles, Ohao heads toward the technical hq. Over his shoulder is slung a sack that doesn't seem very large, but he appears to be struggling carrying it. As he reaches the headquarters, he drops the sack. The sound indicates that it probably wasn't very heavy. After a few deep breaths, he says, "Lunchtime. Lucky us, they sent us some Marine rations." "That was very kind of them," Mitali muses in a slightly strained voice as he and two other technicians heft the generator, and they all give a sigh of relief once they finish getting it loaded up. The other two thank the Mirialan and rush off for the shelter it belongs to, leaving him to run a hand over his brow and smile crookedly at Ohao. "Better than nothing, though. How're you holding up?" A slight chuckle escapes Ohao as he looks around. Staring back at a group of refugees staring at him, he says, "Fine, I suppose. This is not exactly what I had in mind when I signed up." Tapping the side of his big head, he adds, "Bith are made for tasks a bit more intellectual than our current situation. But what must be done must be done." Picking up a box from the dropped sack, he groans as he reads the contents. Mitali leans over to take a box out of the sack, peering at it thoughtfully for a moment before prying it open and reaching for one of the bars inside. "I don't think this is what any of us had in mind, truthfully," he says with just a bit of mourning in his voice, offering a tired smile towards the group of refugees as he leans against the side of the makeshift headquarters. He takes a bite out of the bar and briefly looks like he's having second thoughts before screwing his eyes closed and soldiering on through. "It could be worse. It could be a great deal better, I admit, but it could be much worse. What do they have you working on? Not grunt work?" Ohao only gets through one bite of the brown bar in his hand before putting it in a pocket. The rest of the box goes back into the sack. Slung over his other shoulder is a toolkit, which he drops to the ground with a dull thud. He looks down at it and says, "I was able to avoid assembling shelters. As that is relatively simple, the powers that be decided that the Marines would be able to do that part. I have been laying out power grids." He motions to the emergency generator on the cart and says, "They were short of small units such as that one and were forced to run a number of large shelters from a single generator." "We do have a lot more demand than we do supply," Mitali agrees quietly, his face still slightly contorted from the taste of the ration bar even though he's continuing to eat it. "So long as you aren't being over-stressed. I could see about getting you assigned to worry about logistics, but if you're happy where they've got you, there's no need to meddle with a good thing." A small grimace crosses Ohao's face at the mention of dealing with logistics, which must be an absolute nightmare right now. "No, things are fine as they are. Indeed, as you say, things could be much worse." He pulls a rag from the toolkit on the ground and starts trying to remove the mixture of dirt and grease that has been accumulating on his hands. Shaking his head, he says, "Ah, if my old students could see me now, what would they say?" "They likely wouldn't be making the old 'those who can't, teach' jokes, if nothing else," Mitali chuckles, shaking his head. He regards Ohao curiously, stuffing the wrapper for his ration bar into one of his pockets as he eats the last little bit of it. "What did you teach, out of curiosity?" Tossing the rag back into the toolkit, Ohao says, "Starship design and engineering. At the University of Charmoth. You have most likely never heard of it." Reaching into a pocket, he withdraws a number of identification cards. Holding one up, he shows his faculty card. He seems to have lost quite a bit of weight since the picture was taken. Mitali's brow furrows in thought. "I don't think I have, no," he admits, leaning over to look at the identification card. He grins lopsidedly at the difference, nodding once and settling back again. "I had a really good starship engineering instructor at the academy. It was taught by a Sluissi. Really nice class, I miss it sometimes." Taking one last glance at the card before replacing it, Ohao says, "Military food and I do not agree." He takes out a datapad and starts making entries. As he types, he says, "I must admit that I paid little attention in those classes. I found it more useful to study ship schematics on my own time at my own pace, which was much faster than that of the class." "I wasn't nearly disciplined enough to do that effectively at first," Mitali smiles, running a hand back over his hair in a bashful gesture before he straightens up to accept a datapad from a passing technician. He continues speaking as he inspects it, his voice still crisp and attentive. "The classes felt slow, but they were very in-depth, and the instructor was willing to give us extra work if we requested it. It taught me patience." Briefly, there appears to be a massive band of green... stuff, either clouds or fire or energy, that blows past in the sky above, visible for only a few seconds. Finished with his datapad entry, Ohao replaces the datapad and reaches into the food sack still on the ground. He removes a bottle filled with water and takes a long drink. He says, "At least they have yet to find a way to ruin water." Returning to the previous conversation, he adds, "We lost our first instructor midway through the course. I corrected him on several points, and it is my belief that he removed himself from the course to prevent further occurrences." He says all this oblivious to the fact that most people around them have fallen silent and are now pointing at the sky. "Sounds like you were ready to teach pretty early," Mitali muses, glancing up from the datapad. He quirks a bit at those who are looking upwards before lifting his attention to the sky as well, falling silent and arching both eyebrows. "What do you make of that?" he asks curiously, gesturing upwards with the datapad. "My com isn't going off.." He casts a quick look around. "Yenson? See if you can raise the Reprisal, find out what that was?" The human tech nods crisply and hurriedly clambers up into the marine vehicle to make use of its com. Following the direction of Mitali's datapad, Ohao looks up toward the sky. For several seconds he shades his large eyes and looks up. He finally shakes his head and says, "I am not the one to ask. As a Bith, my eyesight is developed more for... cannot see much beyond a few meters..." His sentences trail off as he starts looking around and noticing that people appear to be on the verge of a mass panic. "In that case, don't worry about it," Mitali says easily, flashing a quick grin at Ohao before looking after Yenson, who raises his voice to call back "They don't know what it was, sir, but it doesn't appear to be of any danger to the fleet or station. /Or/ us." "Thanks," the Mirialan calls back, running a hand over his face. Taking a look around, Mitali purses his lips. "Ohao, see if you can find a loudspeaker or something and let people know there's nothing to panic about?" In search of a loudspeaker, Ohao waddles off toward a distant cluster of Marine vehicles. As he arrives at each one, he sticks his head in asks the occupants. When he finally has checked them all, he disappears back into the crowd. Mitali peers after Ohao for a moment before he turns to haul himself up into the marine vehicle serving as the temporary headquarters, leaning over the back of a seat to peer over his technician's shoulder. "Go get the next generator loaded up, I'll see if I can help them figure things out from here," he says after a moment. The human tech gives him an odd look but nods, dropping down out of the vehicle; Mitali takes his seat once there's room and pulls on a headset.
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