| abstract
| - Corsucant: West Tower of the Palace - Public Auditorium The sheer magnitude of space contained within this chamber is dumbfounding: the exterior can give no true hint of its expanse. Able to seat more than one million sentients, the roof rises in a massive protective dome over several balconies of stadium seating. The Auditorium floor is a vast mosaic, crafted from interlocking fragments of durasteel: gold, copper, brass and silver in color. The patterns spiral outward from a central holographic projector, perhaps the largest in the galaxy. The floor is ringed by monumental statues of humanoid figures, robed and hooded. To the north one of the statues stands head and shoulders above the others; unlike the others, his hood has been thrown back over his shoulders to reveal the cleanly chiseled face of a young adult human. A quite busy looking Guard officer enters and strides down to find a seat in one of the front rows, but not THE front row. Brae's youth and petite stature give her steps a clipped quality. She sits, her posture impeccable in spite of a hint of fatigue, and brushes out a few wrinkles that creep into her uniform. She pores over notes on a datapad before the proceedings begin. The Public Auditorium is a vast and imposing structure, the cavernous expanse of it's interior awe inspiring, and it's capacity seemingly infinate. The Officers and leaders of both the Navy and the Guard, those that currently aren't deployed or patroling some black part of space, file into the Auditorium to take their seats. In the end they barely take up much space in this structure, and there is still room for many more. On the floor, standing alone, is Marshal Menglor of the Republic Guard. He is dressed in the Olive-Grey Officer's uniform of the Guard, and girt strangely at his left side is a sabre and a pistol at the other. The cap which would usuall rest upon his head is tucked into his belt, and his hands are clasped lightly behind his back. With a gaze that is both calm and stern he looks out towards the gathering men and women of the Republic Military. Stepping into the auditorium with the other officers of the military, Ridge scans the large room for an empty seat, and finds one without too much difficulty. He's just arrived at the palace, and still has a large rucksack slung over his shoulder. Taking a seat about halfway towards the front, he sets the pack on the chair to his right and waits for the meeting to begin. Grimolf is seated towards the front of the rows with his cap sitting on his left knee. He is sitting back (not lounging) in his chair and looks up at the Marshall, waiting for him to speak... but also looking rather bored. Or tired. Ietzan double-steps after Ridge and selects a seat with some apparent difficulty. This one? Or this one. Or maybe perhaps this one? How can you make a quantitative analysis of where you ought to sit with so many choices? In the end, Ietzan selects a seat three up and four in from the front corner. Seven is a good number. Briseis is seated near the front, having arrived more than promptly. There is a datapad tucked next to her, slipped away as the time grows nearer. She sits straight, attention focused firmly on Menglor as he stands at the front. As everyone gets settled, the Marshal pulls a small data pad out from behind his back, and glances down at it for a moment. When Menglor looks up he begins to speak, with each word from his deep and commanding voice echoing out across the Auditorium. "I have called this meeting today in regards to the recently passed Senate Bill #88, and what it means for the Navy at large. As no doubt many of you have read, it seems that I have been authorized to force you all into a 'Naval Officer Refresher Course.'" Here the Marshal gives a slight shake of his head. "The reason being that the Senate says, 'I have repeatedly shown an admirable amount of military discipline, so as to prove himself a model of such that others should strive towards.' There words not mine. So, I am standing up here today to show the Republic Navy Officers how large of an asshole I really am. The Guard Officer's already know this." He smiles thin and wry here as he pauses for a moment. Ridge merely sits and continues to watch and listen. Again Menglor is left just to shake his head, as he glances down at the DataPad -- which he holds up again as he continues speak. "This bill," he begins, and then rephrases. "This travesty of a legislative bill, which practically seeks to undermine the Morale of the Navy, and spit on the Honor of those who have fought so bravely and so fiercely since this war began, and make criminals practically out of those who have hurled themselves into the void of space without fear..." "This Bill? It's not worth the memory of this datapad it is saved on." And with that the Marshal breaks the DataPad in half, and tosses it to the floor in front of him. "It just shows how out of touch the Senate is with the Republic Military, and I will not stand for one instant anyone that would try and force this bill down your throats." Ietzan looks bemusedly interested, rather than shocked, fully in agreement, fully in disagreement. But the breaking of the datapad seems to /much/ impress him. One voice speaks from the back: Grimolf looks noticably more interested once the datapad breaks and shifts his weight so that he sits a bit more erect. Briseis, on the other hand, does look slightly shocked, at both words and over-dramatic gesture. Her expression settles into a faint frown, and her hands curl tightly together in her lap as she watches. "It was worth the datapad. It is also worth the effort. What is worthless is a Navy as corrupt as this one was: it was worth this merger to find officers capable of serving the Republic, instead of leading it to an ultimate, bloody end." The voice pauses. "It was worth finding leaders capable, and one as talented as you." Haquien steps out into view and moves towards where the others sit. "I aplogize for being late, Sir," he finishes. "The Navy that this Bill was written for has ceased to exist, and has been forged anew in the darkness of space and in the great cataclysm which has befallen our Republic." Menglor says to the Officer in the back, looking up to Haquien without anger. "You have found your own leaders, and officers capable of leading the Navy from your own ranks." "If the Senate can not honor what you have done, simply by letting this bill die, then I shall, and I say none of you that have fought as you have should suffer this 'punishment.'" He spits out that last word with disdain. "And you will not, that I swear to you." Again the Marshal pauses look out to all those gathered here before him. "So, I say again, I am standing up here to let you all see how big of an ass I really am. Any questions, before I continue on to something more important?" Ietzan shakes his broad head. Perhaps he has questions, but he is too fascinated to voice them. Haquien sits down and looks back up to Menglor. He sits straight and tall, while also rather still, but does not voice a question or comment on Menglor's explanation. In the front, Briseis remains stiffly silent. Ridge just chills in his own seat, lounging silently as he watches the Marshall up front. "Good, I was trying to ensure I was making myself clear," says Menglor smoothly in that booming bass, as his hands clasp behind his back. "Now, as some of you may know, the Guard is going to be providing Security at the Peace Conference on Sullust, and we're looking for volunteers to serve in plain clothes and ensure that the Blacks don't get up to any of their usual tricks. I have a good deal of confidence in the Sullust Security forces, but I would feel a lot better having a few more Republic Officers on the ground -- having seen what these clones can do if unleashed on a planet." "Many of you will most likely be on duty in the Navy over Sullust, but if you have some shore leave, and can spare some time for Captain Brae Terienn who is heading up our security there -- I would take it as a personal favor. If you are interested, clear your participation with your CO, and then contact both Captain Terienn and myself for further instructions." Ietzan seems to find the prospect of this /unreasonably/ exciting, if he does stop short of bouncing in his seat. That would be un-officer-like. Haquien nods his head and makes a note on his datapad. Afterwards he returns his attention to Menglor, still seated and quiet, and perhaps contemplative. "And finally, the reason that many of the Guard Officer's have been assembled here today as well, is so that we might work to further good will between our two great Organizations, or perhaps a friendly rivalry." Menglor's voice is less impassioned here, and takes on more of an 'every-man' sort of quality. "In the future ships of the Coruscant Space Guard may compete with you in war games, and perhaps in the defense of Coruscant herself. Soldiers of the Legions will no doubt be transported into battle upon your ships, and will depend on you to cover them from space -- even as you depend on us to slog it with these Clones in the mud, blood, and gore." "So, with this in mind, I am going to dismiss you now, but ask that you spend some time to get to know a few of the Guard Officer's here. Guard Officers, the same is expected of you. We need to work and play well with the 'flyboys' here." Menglor finishes wryly, obviously making a joke. "Otherwise, you are dismissed, if there are any questions I welcome you to the front to speak with me. Thank you." Briseis makes no move to stir, to socialize or otherwise. She remains where she is, silent to the sudden rise of murmured conversation as others rise or lean in to remark on the speech. As the speech ends, Ridge gets to his feet, taking hold of the rucksack with his right hand, and heaving it up to carry over his shoulder. While not an absolutely huge man, he's bigger than most, and parts his way through the crowd without much trouble. He says nothing to no one, moving against the stream as he walks towards the Marshall. Haquien turns over to Ietzan. "What'd you think?" he asks simply, watching the Bith calmly. He leans back a little, adding, "Sullust is sort of torn up right now. I overheard their chief of security in a bit of a fury: apparently there have been some disagreements already and the Blacks are pointing fingers." "I think that I am restless enough that any change is good," Ietzan notes after a moment to compose himself past excitement. "I have not seen action in weeks - only seen the results. Is it true the Jedi are going berserk?" Menglor himself remains at the front, looking very relaxed, with his hands clasped behind his back. He says little more, but waits to see if any come and speak with him about what is said. "Not exactly," Haquien explains. "One of them was captured, and they're being assassinated one by one. That guy that was limping around has one in custody, so, as I heard it, he was attacked. Sort of sad circumstances, to be sure: he even attacked first, I heard." He shakes his head. "Bad times." A few more paces, and Ridge is standing in front of Menglor, likely an odd sight with his rucksack over his shoulder, but the man doesn't seem to mind the weight or what anyone thinks. Nodding at the Marshall, he speaks for the first time since landing on the planet. "Marshall. Ridge Achilles, reporting for duty." "I am only hearing bits and pieces. I am not hateful of the Jedi, but I have seen them all but cut people in half - it is a bit unnerving." Ietzan cants his massive head. "Also, were you not training with them?" From her seat near the front, Briseis is well-positioned to eavesdrop on those who approach Menglor. She does not make any particular effort to look as if she's busy doing something rather than listening. "I was.. am.. sort of," Haquien concludes. "Master Mina Vairde, you remember her? Well, she trained me for awhile, then she was assassinated. After that it sort of fell apart a bit, but there's still some hope." He nods to Ietzan's first comment. "Yeah, I know what you mean. I sort of keep my opinions about them reserved; I guess it helps if you travel with one for awhile, and learn a bit about them." "Assassinated?" Ietzan is all shock. He just manages not to make it shrill. "That is a terrible, terrible thing. It is hard to function when people keep dying - I really would prefer them to stop." Menglor glances down towards Ridge for a moment, glancing at his uniform, and then offering at first a simple, "Corporal,' in greeting. The Marshal's eyes wander over the soldier for a moment, obviously in an appraisal of the man. "Glad to have you on board then, what can I do for you?" "Yeah," Haquien replies simply. He taps his jaw, adding, "Not exactly a peaceful time. Hopefully this war ends soon with those change of positions." Haquien looks up towards Menglor. "Will we be taking back Vanix soon, Sir? I've heard it isn't exactly overrun with clones, or at least isn't as bad as Merr Sonn." At the mention of Merr Sonn, Ietzan lapses twitchily silent, linking his fingers together. "Can't say for certain, Soldier." Menglor calls out to Haquien then. "It depends on how well these peace talks go. If they go well it might be that the Clones will pull off all of our planets, and leave them behind. If not, well ... We'll certainly have to take Vanix II back by force. In short, we'll have to start chipping away at the mountain, and if Vanix II is unguarded? It is as good a place as any to start. Though the Nebula there could hide any number of Black Ships, and that makes it tricky for the Guard to try and take it by itself." "Understood," Haquien comments. He pauses for a moment, perhaps thinking, before saying, "I've heard some things about these Clones. You may have heard them as well; I wonder if there's a way to cut them off, or trick them. If not, this war is going to be long and bloody. Real long, and real bloody." He leans on his hand. "You have to obliterate their factories," Grimolf finally chimes in as Haquien speaks. "And that's going to involve a /lot/ of collateral damage. The sort the Senate isn't willing to stomach yet." "Their factories?" Questions Menglor, looking out towards Grimolf. "I assume you mean where their clones are produced, Lieutenant?" The Marshal then glances back towards Haquien. "What have you heard? And if there is a way to cut them off, I am certainly open to suggestions. The Guard has had little time to study, or discern where they might come from -- that being a little hard to do as thousands are pouring over your position." "That they're made in factories, on a hidden planet," Haquien replies, nodding to Grimolf. "Perhaps we could study their genetic structure and produce a toxin that would inhibit them: they could be just an ordinary sentient species trained to kill. Freeing them from their Masters is a plausible course of action, I would think." "Multiple planets, actually, but yes," Grimolf replies and picks up his cap before standing up. "Excuse me, Marshall, I have duties I need to return to." With that he turns and walks out. Grimolf passes through one of the open doorways, leaving the auditorium. Grimolf has left. Briseis shifts just slightly, enough to cast her gaze back the length of the auditorium toward Haquien as he speaks. Ietzan has his fingers linked tighter together, apparently deeper in thought. "It is possible, and certainly we have more then a few corpses to study. Unfortunately they fight to the very last, and to date we have not taken one alive." Menglor offers back to Haquien then. "I will certainly offer such a suggestion to the Navy Intelligence Agency. Though, discovering their hidden factories would certainly be useful." Here the Marshal waves off anymore questions. "I have buisness to attend to now as well. I welcome again any and all of you to my Office if you have further questions. Otherwise, Good Luck, Good Hunting, and may the Force be with you." With that the Marshal moves to depart. Haquien nods his head and stands. "Farewell, Sir," he says to Menglor. "See you all in Orbit," he adds to the others, though he nods to both Briseis and Ietzan. He travels off towards the exit and then to a public bathroom. Ietzan unfolds his hands just long enough to salute with those narrow fingers. Briseis remains a bit longer, lingering in silence as soldiers trickle out of the auditorium in the wake of the Marshal's exit. Eventually, she rises, gathers her datapad, and trails out the back.
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