Just a Beer, Officers Between

[Kathryn Foster]

The podracing event broadcasting from Tatooine attracted many eyes of tonights guests at The Last Round, including the majors owns from her place by the bar as she took a sip of the fresh and cold, just opened, bottle of beer.

One of the many nightspots of Golbah City, Geonosis. A bar that was unassuming from the outside but were frequently visited by CIS personel, and also rumored hotspot for the Ministry of Secrets. The sound from the race on the holoscreens were mashed up with music in the background and the buzz from guests enjoying themselves, both alien and human, and made for a quite nice early evening atmosphere.

After the mission to Alakatha and the following pursuit of the pirates to the Epica system, two pretty intense but successful flight missions in which she had experienced the might of the powerful T-77 in live battle, it felt good to be on solid ground again. Not to mention the blunt and caotic first meeting with the special forces operative ’Red’. Though, they had got along much better at Epica, which she was very glad for.

What she were also glad for was the company she expected. Glad, but also quite nervous to meet admiral [member="Kiff Brayde"] like this, outside their both works. Nervous, just being the first name when she, in a quick moment on the fly, had asked him to share a beer sometime. They had worked together several times now, and he had strucked her as a good guy and officer. Even if others had their opinions about him. Now when they both had some time off-duty, it could not hurt with taking a beer with a superior, could it?

Her blue eyes spared a glance at the small clock in a corner of the holoscreen – she was a bit early. She took a deep breath followed by another sip of the beer. As usual, her ash blonde hair was kept in a braid that rested over a shoulder of the stylistic black leather jacket. Underneath, she had a red turtleneck and to that black trousers and black boots with a bit of a heel to them. It was not yesterday she was in civilian attire, she were more used to the dress uniform or the flightsuit, but for the occasion went with something proper and stylish yet not too fancy considering the setting.

 

[Kiff Brayde]

When Flight Officer [member="Kathryn Foster"] had invited Kiff out to a night of drinking, the High Marshal had been quick to say yes. Overall, there were three things that Kiff did best; Naval Combat, Drinking, and Gambling, in that order. Although Kiff didn't frequent the bars of Golbah City as much as his fellow peers in the Defense Force owing to the fact that his Sector Armada was stationed furthest away from the center of the Confederacy, he still could appreciate the effort that had been put in to change the desert world into a cosmopolitan center worthy of being the capital of the Confederacy.

He arrived that the bar, the Last Round, dressed in civilian clothes except for a leather flight jacket over his shirt, emblazoned with the insignia of High Marshal - almost an ultra-casual version of a dress uniform. Most of the time when he was off-duty, he preferred to wear something more anonymous as he had during his venture in Abregaedo-Rae, but there were certain perks to being a Confederacy officer in a Geonosis bar. Something about how the managers and even patrons would treat you as a hero, for defending the values and freedoms of Confederate citizens abroad. That appreciation usually manifested itself through the form of certain kinds of generosity - the liquid kind. And Kiff was all for that sort of appreciation.

It struck Kiff that it was kind of odd, almost touching, that one of his fellow officers in the Defense Force had actually invited him to a casual hang-out. The High Marshal was rather. . . impulsive, which was not always the most popular among the older grizzled members of High Command. The only thing that was currently saving Kiff's career was his results, or other ways he suspected that he would've been exiled off to some lower command position in a planetary defense force a long time ago. Either way, he was glad for the opportunity to make a friend in the Defense Force, someone who had gone through much of the same battles and hardships that Kiff had personally experienced.

Music blasted as he walked into the entrance of the bar, giving out nods and smiles to those who were already pandering to ge tthe attention of one of the Confederacy High Marshals. An eager Junior Fleet Officer asked for Kiff to sign his flight jacket, which Kiff did somewhat reluctantly -- while he was used to meeting and commanding people in the midst of battle, the young High Marshal was not very accustomed to the psuedo-celebrity status that came with being one of the Confederacy's elite. Nevertheless, he put on a good show as he edged his way through the crowd to make it to the bar. "A Pamarthe Storm-Brewer, please," he said with a smile and a toss of a credit towards the bartender, who nodded and began mixing the drink. Grinning, he turned towards the person who'd invited him here, [member="Kathryn Foster"], extending his hand. "Thanks for the invite. I'm always happy to go drinking," he said with a short, carefree chuckle.

 

[Kathryn Foster]

As she took a glance around, it was quick and easy to spot the high marshal already attracting somewhat of a fan club. No wonder, when he was proudly wearing his rank insignia on the jacket. His whole appearance and way to move himself stood out from the rest of the High Command, in a good way that was. The little autograph signing, together with his slightly reluctant look, made the corners of her mouth draw upwards in a soft smile.

To not give the impression that she was ogling or anything, she turned her attention back to the holoscreen and continued to casually follow the race. She weren't that much of a sports fanatic, but did appreciate airspeeders and swoops in a similar way that she enjoyed flying and fixing with starfighters. She actually had a little restoring swoop project back at the base that she was working on.

She started to turn around on the barstool when she overheard the order and stood up properly in front of the high marshal when he turned to her, taking his hand in a perfect just right handshake. She wanted to make a good impression.

''High Marshal Brayde. Pleasure's all mine, sir!'' she uttered with mirth and a bit of a nervous but genuine smile. All these 'sir's' and addresses by ranks just came by old habit. She knew his name but was not sure about using it just yet, or ever, if he rather prefered being addressed by rank.

''I see you've got yourself a little fan club...'' she continued and sat down, glancing once and nodding in the direction of the junior flight officer that was now bragging about his prize to his buddies. It felt like a saving subject to stray away from any nervousness.

[member="Kiff Brayde"]

 

[Kiff Brayde]

Kiff laughed, shaking [member="Kathryn Foster"]'s hand as he took a seat next to her. "Blow up a ship, and I promise you'll be popular as well." He gave a glance around to the crowd, who had mostly gone back to their groups and drinks. "Besides, they're more interested in making a potential contact instead of being interested in me. That's what happens when you drink on the Capital -- everyone is ambitious," Kiff said with a good-natured smile. He turned his head slightly, nodding in thanks as he accepted his drink. The Port-in-a-Storm was a special concoction from the Outer Rim planet of the same name, a little stronger than paint-stripper and famously hard for any non-native to complete. To top it off, the murky-grey drink was infused with small electrical charges, creating bright electric-blue zaps that made the drink look like a miniature lightning storm in a bottle. The electricity also created a tingling sensation when it traveled down the throat, a nice extra touch that was just as wild as the High Marshal.

He noted the pilot's enthusiasm, but that was fine. Looking back to the first time he'd interacted with someone higher on the chain of command -- a rather intimidating Selphi named Lirka Ka before the liberation of Eshan -- he'd been somewhat nervous as well. And besides, Kiff had earned somewhat of a reputation himself. Nevertheless, he didn't want to get carried away with his exaggerated tales of self glory, and instead distracted his mind by taking a sip of his drink. The Parmarthens could drink it like it was no more than blumfruit juice, but even for Kiff it was an exceptionally strong alcohol, and he couldn't help but wince slightly as the electricity coursed down his throat. "Congratulations on your promotion, by the way. Climb up the chain-of-command, and you'll soon be in the same place as me. Trust me, it isn't as fun as it looks," he said with another rogueish smile.

 

[Kathryn Foster]

''Just name the size of the ship, and the bet's on, sir.'' she stated with self-confidence, influenced by his carefree attitude. She were somewhat of a competitor when it came to certain things, and the high marshals comment did sound a little cocky to her. Though, not at all in a bothering way. The soft, slightly nervous smile remained firmly on her lips during their initial conversation. With such a high ranking officer in front of her, she figured she would still have to mind where she stepped.

She raised the bottle of beer to meet with his glass of rather interesting and strong looking beverage. ''Cheers!''

''Thanks! I don't realy...'' she made a stop with a short chuckle. Her gaze flicked as she searched for words, before it again fell on Brayde. ''... feel like a colonel, though. Maybe it's just me, but... I'm a bit worried about loosing the connection to the squadron. Think I made it pretty clear to Fighter Command that I have no intentions of leaving the cockpit.'' she finished, the thought of the meeting and her passion since many years got her smile to open up white and heartily.

She finally begun to feel a bit more comfortable around the high marshal. His rogueish, and to her; charming smile naturally did its part to it. The nervousness slowly begun to give in, which made it easier to relax and enjoy the night fully.

''So... How was your day, sir? Hope I didn't pull you from any important duties?'' she asked after taking another sip of the beer, offering him another more moderate but warm smile, keeping a balanced look on him and the locale that were slowly filling up with more guests.

[member="Kiff Brayde"]

 

[Kiff Brayde]

"You know, when I got my first promotion from Captain I felt out of place as well. It didn't help that it was the Liberation of Eshan, either, but after realizing that I managed to survive, I think that's where my mindset changed. You're a skilled pilot besides, and I don't think you'll have much trouble with High Command," Kiff said as he gave the young officer next to him a reassuring pat on the back. He took a sip of his electricity-crackling drink before continuing. "Just continue to blow stuff up and no one will give you any flak."

The air in the bar was lively. Geonosis was the center of Confederacy life, and quite far removed from the effects that war, expansion and terrorism had brought on the fringes of the Confederacy. The class, the wealth, the blind comfort -- these were all things that were slightly strange to Kiff, but he didn't show his unnerve. It had been something he'd learned before his life in the Defense Force, how to stay cool in situations that were uncomfortable, and he instinctively did that now. Besides, the music and crowd were loud enough to drown out at least some of his misgivings.

He blinked once and returned from his mind to his conversation. "Don't worry Colonel, today's been surprisingly quiet in the Confederacy. I had to sign off on some squadron transfers to my Armada, but a quick hyperjump to Fondor and I'll be able to sign the documents without any hassle, so don't feel bad about it," he said, easygoing. "How's flight training coming? Any up-and-coming aces I should be aware of?" he asked in a half-joking, half-serious manner.

[member="Kathryn Foster"]

 

[Kathryn Foster]

''Thanks for the compliment, sir.'' she said with a small chuckle, flashing him another bright smile before pausing with a sip of the beer in between.

''Uhm... With all due respect, it sounds like you have some knowledge or experience with troubles within the High Command, sir? How's life on the top, so to ask?'' she asked gently but curiously. ''I realy couldn't think or any more capable field marshal, sir. I'm honored to have served under you, sir.'' she said, without much of a thought if it sounded buttery. However, it was true and she could remember all the missions they have been working together on as being successful.

Minding her comment, she followed it up quite soon with an answer to the High Marshals somewhat half-joking question.

''Oh, I know a few! The best ones stays in the Horizon Squadron you know, of course! You'll have to bargain for them if you want them!'' she said with a smile and gave Brayde a wink before taking another sip out of her beer, taking a quick glance around the bar.

''What's your story, sir? How did you end up in the Confederacy? If you pardon me for asking...?'' she continued with a curious look at the High Marshal.

[member="Kiff Brayde"]

 

[Kiff Brayde]

"Don't worry about me," Kiff said as he chuckled. "High Command has just been a little tense ever since the Grand Marshal's death. Now that an Exarch controls it, we've been able to calm down a bit. Although, I don't know how much in total I'm even allowed to share with you," he said as he gave a furtive glance around the bar. Everyone seemed to be engrossed in their own drinks, but even in the capital Kiff ahd to be wary of what he said; you never knew who could be listening. Turning back to Kathryn, he smiled again. "I'm glad you feel that way, Colonel. You'll soon find that command is more challenging than it looks," he said with a wink and another sip.

"I'll give Horizon a look, could always use some new faces in the carrier scene," he said as he swallowed. His drink was now half-empty, and his throat was tingling quite a bit; the room was a little fuzzy as well, but that was something that usually cleared up within minutes of ingesting the Port-in-a-Storm. He refocused though, as the Colonel asked another question; about him. Kiff had never really opened up about his past before, his childhood on the streets of Arkanis, living off of scraps and crime. "I grew up on Arkanis, and joined the Confederacy Naval Academy as soon as I had a chance. I've always wanted to be a pilot, but I guess my commandant thought I had a skillset better suited for command. And so here I am now, a decade later and a High Marshal of the Confederacy," he said with a mock flourish and another sip of his drink.

[member="Kathryn Foster"]

 

[Kathryn Foster]

The High Marshal seemed to take things with a pinch of salt, realy. As he said, it was nothing for her to worry about. Even though she was a little curious exactly what he meant by command being more ''challenging that it looked''. She also knew that High Command consisted of older and more experienced staff, adding to it that she had a hunch of what being a younger officer with an own strong will could be like.

''Ah...'' she begun, as the slight noseyness in her question hit her and she glanced down quickly once. ''Of course, sir. Not my intention to be nosey...'' she said, and bit her lip in slight regret to her curious question.

However, what obviously was Brayde's short story of how he ended up in the Confederacy, nudged their conversation forward in a smooth and grateful way. Slow but safe, another soft smile build up on her lips.

''Oh, the Outer Rim? Couldn't stand the rain, sir? I heard it's a constant drizzle over there, on Arkanis?''

''And I'll be happy to show you the squadron, sir.'' she added in a promising and proud manner, before her alert eyes noticed something off with the High Marshal, that drink surely looked like the infamously strong Port-in-a-Storm, but it was his first! She had her doubts that he would have taken something equally strong before he arrived, that would push him over the edge. Also, the faint but still noticeable change had happen so fast.

''Wrong proportions on the booze, sir?'' she asked cautiously, trying on the easy side to ask if he was alright. Maybe the bartender had made a mistake with the mixing.

[member="Kiff Brayde"]

 

[Kiff Brayde]

"There's rain, but most of the time it's no more than a light drizzle. You learn to get used to it," Kiff said with as his vision continued to remain slightly out of focus. It felt as if the room was getting louder, and yet in teh back of Kiff's mind he knew that nothing had changed, or at least nothing besides him had changed. His mind, too, was starting to hurt, a pounding in his head that almost made him lose concentration. With a small grunt he set a clenched fist on the bar, trying to maintain his composure. This behaviour would be totally unacceptable for Kiff as a High Marshal, in a public Confederacy bar and with a subordinate. Yet his body had never reacted to Port-in-a-Storm, or any other alcohol drink for that matter, in such a violent way before. And he hadn't even finished his first drink. . .

Managing a weak smile, Kiff attempted to shrug off Foster's concern. "I don't think so. Just haven't had this since the aftermath celebration on Tanaab. Or, possibly the Liberation of Tanaab. Or both, I'm not really that sure," Kiff joked with an attempt at his rogueish grin, although it was weak. Perhaps the Colonel was right, maybe the bartender had put in the wrong proportions or something. "I'm really fine, I just need to--"

What exactly Kiff thought he would need to do would be a mystery for himself and the Colonel, as at that precise moment the High Marshal slumped in his stool. Passing into a sudden unconsciousness, his body slackened and then crashed onto the ground, to the shock and quiet cries of of surprise from those around him. Disturbed by the loud noise, the bartender droid looked to see what was the matter, and when his photoreceptors processed the prone position of the man on the ground, and the insignia on his flight jacket, it vocalized a quick and alarmed succession of electronic beeps and whistles as it whirled away towards the kitchens on it's gyroscopic wheel.

[member="Kathryn Foster"]

 

[Kathryn Foster]

Her blue eyes grew bigger in shock as the High Marshal suddenly collapsed off his chair in front of her. He hit the ground with a thud and Kathryn was quick to put her beer down and rushed herself knelt down beside him to check what the heck happened.

''Kiff...! Sir?!'' she blurted out worriedly and grabbed his shoulders, shaking him once and twice then leaning down close to his face to check his breathing. He had a breath but did not respond to her calls or shakes, so she swiftly put him in a recovery position. The night had only begun and the High Marshal had not even finished his drink before he collapsed, the thought of poisoning flashed past her mind. Could it be that not even Golbah City was entirely safe these days? An enemy agent would definately have noticed Brayde's enterance and the rank insignia on his jacket.

''Chit! Call an ambulance! Now!'' she called as she looked up at the bartender droid that were about to rush out to the kitchen. The droid sent a signal to the emergency services of Golbah City. There was nothing to do now but to wait and keep checking on the High Marshal. She prayed that the ambulance would be close by.

''Brayde?! Hello?! You hear me?!'' she uttered as she made another check on his breathing, again shaking him slightly.

[member="Kiff Brayde"]

 

[Kiff Brayde]

The scene inside of the of the bar had turned from one of unusual surprise to full on pandemonium. A High Marshal collapsing from his seat, especially a man who'd been the figurative life of the party -- signing jackets, taking pictures, giving a nod here and a smile there -- had caused such a disruption that people were beginning to fear for there lives. The talks of the Crucible terrorism had been a hot topic in Golbah City, which was natural as the city was the capital of the Confederacy. But the high class who lived and worked on Geonosis never expected that those 'fringe dissentors' could attack so far as the Capital. But if a High Marshal wasn't safe in the center of the Confederacy, was anyone?

Soon, the flashing red-and-blue lights and wailing sirens flashed through the semitransparent walls of the club as a med-evac transport touched down on the walkway nearby, escorted by two Confederacy security speeders. A white monochrome color, with spindly but sturdy legs and a simple red cross over the Confederacy emblem in black on their chest denoted that these were medical droids, a newer version than the reconverted B1 units that the outer regions of the Confederacy were used to. "Please remain calm," they stated in a monochrome voice as the stiffely walked over, placed the High Marshal onto a hoverstretcher, and began to escort him back to the transport. Meanwhile, regular security droids were beginning to enter as the med-droids left.

"This area is not safe. Please show your identification before you are permitted to vacate the area," the security droids began to say as they formed a perimeter, indicating for those still present to form a line to leave the club. Even more security droids were walking into the crowd, scanning locals at random and inspecting the entire area to see if there was anything hiding. Meanwhile, the med-evac transport began to take off as its sirens continued to wail into the Geonosis night.

[member="Kathryn Foster"]

 

[Kathryn Foster]

While tending to Brayde, she also kept an eye on the crowds around them. A careless move from anyone would be suspicious enough to point out an assassin, an assassin that perhaps would like to see how his mission ended. So far nothing, though. Even if she did spot something, she would not dare to leave his side. That was te most important right now.

Every time she leant in to check on him, he had a weak but stable breath which made her glad inside. What made her even more relieved was the sound of clanking medical and security droids approaching. She quickly stood up and stepped aside to give the medical droids room to work and bring forth the hoverstretcher. Searching for her CIS identity badge in her jacket, she showed it to a medical droid standing idle at the side while the others lifted Brayde up on the stretcher.

''Colonel Foster. CIS Navy. Ehm... Can... Can I join you to the medcenter?'' she said, trying not to let worry take over as she flicked her gaze between Brayde and the droid. The droid nodded and motioned at her to follow them out. With that, they left The Last Round that were now crowded with security droids that would start to investigate what happened this night.

[member="Kiff Brayde"]