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| - The landing bay which you are currently in is very large and equally clean. With black reflective decking and slate-grey walls that contain built in panel lighting, the bay is well lit. Near the ceiling horizonal scaffolding bridges across the bay from one wall to another for maintenance purposes of accessing the tops of ships parked in the bay. The entire fore wall is open and exposed to the darkness spectacle of space. A force field keeps the vacuum of space out and the atmosphere of the station in, while still allowing ships to go in and out without disturbing this balance. To the aft is a nexus of turbolifts of various sizes, which lead to all of the decks of the station. Near the aft wall over the turbolift area is a catwalk that leads from one side of the bay to the other. Various people move along this catwalk, which provides access to the landing bay control center and the local security detachment for this section of the station. One cannot stress how large this bay is. Easily large enough to accommodate several small capital scale vessels. Various ships rest around the bay, some X-Wings, A-Wings, Y-Wings and B-Wings are organized into units in seperate areas. The bay is also littered with shuttles, freighters, and transports of all types. Various mechanics and technicians move about the bay busily, doing the regular sort of maintenance work on the various ships in the bay. Off to the starboard side of bay are several airlock systems that enable the station to dock with the larger of the fleet's capital ships that are unable to land. ___________________________________________________________________________________ Jamta heard an announcement about a 'pep' talk. He positions himself at the back, leaning up against an A-Wing. Waiting for all the hub bub to start. What was this for? The question had been rolled through the crowd assembled on mumbling tongues, easily overhead by the former Ambassador as she moves in stride with an NR marine from a turbolift, along the edge of those gathered. Her stare remains forward as she walks, focusing on the bulk of the Starshine that acts as the backdrop for her makeshift podium: a pair of cargo crates. Exhaling sharply the lingering smell of fuel and fire from her nose, Ambrosia squares her shoulders and runs a hand self-consciously over her hair. The tragic incident that followed her arrival had managed to shake some of the confidence she arrived with. Still...the show must go on. Together, the Aide and marine circle around the front of the spectators where he leaves her to park behind the podium. Managing to sneak out of the hospital, at least for a little while, for the duration of the Amber's speech Ta is also down in the main hangar-bay, the one that got somewhat emptied out so more troops and crew could be crammed inside with the fighters and ships and various other equipment relocated to another hangar or to some miscellaneous storage area. He managed to find something a little more suitable to wear than the hospital gowns, figuring that the last thing he wants to do is accidentally mooning half of OS Paladin if say he got hit by some cross-breeze from the air-conditioning system.. so he's once again clad in his casual attire, the one he wears when he's off duty.. So sitting in his hover-wheelchair, with his broken leg encased in a mini bacta-tank.. and another similar one around his left arm as well Ta's now just waiting for the ceremony to start from the sidelines, he's only here to listen and to applaud at the end.. When Ambrosia does stand behind the stacked crates, however, little more than her eyebrows remain visible to the audience. A weak chuckle forms in her throat at the technical mistake and rather than trying to peek over the top, emerges fully to stand alongside it. "Good evening…afternoon" A pause as she checks her chronometer with a sigh. "To be honest, I'm not certain what time of day it is without the sun to remind me." Clearing her throat, she gives a diplomatic tip of her head to the men and women before her and folds her hands neatly before her. "I apologize for the failure to announce this meeting at a sooner day however events beyond my control took precedence. So who am I and why have I requested a portion of your time?" "Some of you may recognize me," Her eyes land softly over Naota's chair-ridden form with a fond smile "As the woman who has recently been chosen to serve our new Chief of State as an Aide. In doing so, I am here today to represent all of the New Republic government when I reestablish the gratitude we all hold for your diligence and sacrifice." Jamta continues to lean against the A-Wing, listening quietly. He reaches up and scratches his ear, but otherwise alert. Nudging the control stick of his chair Ta decided to maneuver a little closer to the makeshift podium that Amber's using to give her speech, though not exactly the way it was meant to be used, so he can see the visiting Ambassador a little better.. cause there's certainly no problem with hearing her, Paladin's crew has done a superb job in hooking up her microphone into the station's intercom and also into the main transmitter array as well so even those assigned to another duty-station, like one of the RepSDs docked with the station can still hear her speech. Then as she begins with a little joke Ta grins and chuckles out, though he can also understand her predicament.. those not used to living in space, on a ship or on a station would indeed find it hard to 'feel' the time like veteran spacers do.. like he can tell the time.. give or take 10-15 minutes, by the tick of the hyperdriver or the level the air-ducts operate at.. Then looking up at her as she goes with her speech Ta meet her eyes and mirrors her smile but other then that he just gets more comfy in his chair and simply listens on.. Cadet Jimmy Pickle enters the room just as the woman in front starts her speech. Walking slowly through the crowd, he struggles to find something that he can lean against, so he can stay standing for the entire thing. Spotting a pillar towards the front, he makes his way through the crowd towards it, attracting dirty looks as he treads on another cadet's foot, and bumps a few more military personnel to the side. After reaching the pillar, he lets out a long sigh, and closed his eyes a little, trying to give the impression that he was paying attention. How well it worked, he didn't care. He was tired and sore, and didn't want to be here in the first place. Closing her eyes for a moment to the overhead flood of stark light, Ambrosia paces a few steps aside to stand in front of the crate, too tempted to lean on it otherwise. "I am here to remind all that we are not divided, military and government, but rather one entity working towards the vision of freedom. It is a vision, which for some, in shadow of recent tragedy, has fallen dim." Relying on the aid of her collar's mic to amplify her voice and transmit it through the intercom, Ambrosia softens her tone as her gaze grows more solemn. "It is true that the Empire has used the value of life to lure the pledge of worlds away from us during the plague's deadly reign. And the demand to liberate Bothawui and Chandrila, amongst others, is now high. This urgency, this pressure, may be discouraging to some of you. You may feel that what we have fought for in the past has crumbled." "But trust that you have the support, the respect of the diplomatic branch. Of our civilians. For you are not mere pawns, as the Empire would treat their numbers. Each of you is a soul. Each of you is a gem, a key piece to our survival. We all have our stories of loss and that is what binds us, so that others, our children, may do without suffering the same ill fate as those gone before." She pauses again to scan the faces of those standing in the front row. "Do not think that we in the senate, in the embassies, have forgotten this." Jamta clears his throat and speaks from his position in the back. he steps forward somewhat so he can be seen. "with all due respect, Ma'am. The may be suffering right now, and despite the knuckle heads in the important positions believe and what the stinking Empire believe..." His face grows with disgust at thinking about the Imps. "The will survive, what we need are people to believe in. And frankly I don't trust those who make policies and other things that decide my fate, I joined the to try and help them wrest control of the galaxy from the Imps. I've heard a rumor that the famed Rogue Squadron will be active in a few months. And you can bet your credits that they will be the best Squadron in the galaxy. And more likely will take more than their fair of Imps from the galaxy. If anyone can bring hope to the it will be them." Continuing to listen on from his vantage point as Amber keeps talking to the assembled soldiers and crew members Ta crosses his arms over his chest.. or at least does the best he can with one arm being in a rigid cast, and just nods solemnly, her words ring true.. it seems that in the past few weeks the NR has suffered more setback than in the past 3 years.. but so is the fortune of war.. nevertheless he can understand why she's here, why she's giving this speech.. he's seen the worn, desperate looks on many-many faces on OS Paladin and this is exactly what they might need to find their courage again.. Then as one of the Cadets moves forward and interrupts Amber's speech he just sighs and shakes his head, reaching out for his chair's control stick, nudging the whole contraption forward and around the edge of the crowd till he's close enough to Jamta to call out to the other pilot without actually needing to raise his voice too much "Sit down Cadet, this isn't an open forum, this is a speech.. so just shut up, listen and show some respect for the Lady, cause remember.. without politicians on our side we would not have any of these nice, shiny toys to play with.. and even Rogue squadron needs ships if they want to become operational.. so while we all appreciate your sentiment for now just shove it and let the Madam Ambassador finish." Pickle's eyes open quickly when he hears the voice of another Cadet against the speech-maker. Groaning to himself at the interruption, he closes his eyes again, only for them to snap open once again at the hum of a hover-wheelchair and another voice telling the cadet to shut up. Grinning to himself, he closes his eyes again, mumbling to himself. "That's right, back to the regularly scheduled program, with no more interruptions." Freeing her hands from one another so that they may clasp behind rather than in front, Mrs. Delgard discretely uses a thumb to prod and rub at an ache in her lower back. She watches the expressions of the pilots, the mechanics…the glowing stares of curious droids. Were they absorbing the sincerity? Or had she become just another drab politician in their eyes. Jamta's faint cry from the back answers just that question. Perking her brows upward, Ambrosia tips her head slightly, strained to hear each word. When he's through, she nods and sucks in a deep breath. "I can assure you, those 'knuckleheads', myself included, DO believe that this will live on. That is why I am here. That is why any of us are here. That is why the Chief of State is currently traveling to be a sign of hope for others. You can believe in us, in our words and hearts. Because we believe in you, in Rogue Squadron. This Republic will thrive only on mutual trust. And so I hope that you can trust your lives, your hopes to us as we do ours to you, guardians of the Republic." Swallowing, she glances over the others present and extends her hands outward. Before she continued. "Are there anymore comments? If so, I beseech you to feel free in expressing them." Jamta looks at the General, momentarily forgetting the podium and the Ambassador. "Yes sir, I just wanted to point out that the Rogues will be the best chance to re-establish hope for the New Republic and I was hoping to that maybe she would push those in charge to get the Squadron up and running faster." He turns his head back to the podium. "I wasn't including you in the 'knucklehead' statement, Ma'am. You proved yourself worthy of my respect and trust, when we were caught in that mess a few days ago. But my point is, but the best of intentions can turn into the worst possible thing at in opportune moments, and when it happens, it makes mine and other pilots lives that much harder. For what it's worth you can't have a government without the diplomatic humdrum. And since I feel that the Rogues have the best chance at helping the New Republic gain a stronger foothold, I was hoping you'd petition that the process of restarting them get speeded up, I understand that it may be impossible at the moment. Course, even though I'm a Cadet in the New Republic, I do have leadership skills and would offer my services as a temporary Commander until Colonel Johanna is able to resume the Command." Looking at the Cadet as Jamta goes on Ta just shrugs and shakes his head "No problem Cadet, we all appreciate your honesty and willingness to fight.. though keep in mind that no one squadron is more important than another.. we must all work together if we hope to ever win this war.. and you should have more trust in High Command, they know what's best for the war effort.. and if they deem Rogue to be a priority then it will be treated as such.. as of commanding it, I'm sure that Star-Ops could find many people to fill that position before they turned to you.. no offense but we do have a large number of senior pilots who are more.. ready to command a squadron than you are.. I'm not saying that you don't have what it takes.. all I'm saying that so do many other officers who put in years and years of hard work so chances are they would be asked before you.." then with that he pulls back on the control stick, moving his chair out of the way so those in the front row can once more see Amber as she resumes her speech. Cursing under his breath at the interruptions, Cadet Pickle takes his head off the pillar, and stands on his toes to try to get a look at who was talking up front and behind. Not being able to see much, he stands normally, abandoning his hope for inappropriate shut eye. Folding his arms, he sighs agitatedly, waiting for the speech to get done with. It's not that he didn't believe what she was saying, he was just too tired to want to stand listening for an eternity. Interesting. Ambrosia nods again in response to Jamta, thoughtful expression upon her face as she listens. "I shall pass along your input, Cadet. No one in the Republic has had an easy break, of late, and you are correct in believing that productivity will greatly increased when all our forces are operational." A tiny 'blip' from her comlink draws a flicker of attention from her eyes to her hip. The baby? The embassy? Tivadar? A world of possibilities jets through her mind before she can shut them out and the spine throb returns as her muscles instinctively clench. "I appreciate the generous attendance you all have contributed and hope that the others on board receive my words just as well. I hope we may feel free to be candid to one another. I, as any government official should be, am eager to answer any further questions you may have to the events at hand." Glancing briefly to her guard, she hands her comlink off to him and clears the clenching worry from her tone with a single cough into her fist. "I shall spare your ears of any overly elaborate closing to this session, as I'm sure you all have duties that need tending. As do I. Thus, I'll leave you with our sympathies for any losses you have suffered, and with our utmost gratitude for your willingness to defend the freedoms we hold dear. Keep up the superb job. The galaxy is trusting in you to bring peace to her troubled systems. And peace I give to you now." Stepping away from the unused podium, she bows her head deeply in respect. "Thank you." Without another word, she lets her wide-eyed gaze linger over the heads for a moment longer, then briskly strides off her stand, towards the guard with an eager grab for the 'link. "What is it?" She murmurs hurriedly, the rest of the conversation fading from earshot as she's ushered away towards the ship for privacy. Jamta nods to what the General said, "Thought I'd make my interest known, and I've got 5 years experience commanding the Planetary Patrol group in CorSec, but I understand. I'll just have to show them what I can do then." He looks back up at the podium as the Ambassador speaks. "I apologize for interrupting, Ma'am." He steps back to the A-wing. Captain Mora Rodriguez, silent thus far but watching interestedly from an inconspicuous leaning-spot at the back, removes a cigarette from his mouth with a puff. The speech has been quite good, at least as far as politalk goes, but this cadet's really starting to piss Mora off. Perhaps he reminds him too much of himself- Mora's reviewed the man's personnel file at great length since it's been sent to him by Colonel Danaan, and while he shows great potential, he's quite cocky, much like Mora was as a Cadet- and a young Rodriguez once swam in a pool of his own hatred for the people at the top of the Republic. This is nothing new, but from a position of relative maturity, Mora's reaction is a bit different. "Cadet Kisac," he shouts loudly before personnel can begin to file out of the chanber, "I'm sure you'll be happy, after hearing this speech, to file a report with myself and General Nandaba regarding why it is so important to obey direct orders and to respect your fellow officers, and what effect insubordination has on the Republic and, say, one's chances at becoming a member of Rogue Squadron." Mora pauses and nods to the rest of the crew present. "Dismissed."
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