Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Kuat An Undertaking...

Post Theme: Bach - Organ Fugue in G Minor

"Is my flagship ready?"

"The Chimaera is fully at your command, Admiral."

The Imperial-II class design was still on display in the Kuat Drive Yards' Hall of Fame, being one of the most ubiquitous and robust ship designs of any era. Lacking any sense of form or beauty, the ship was designed for two purposes: to intimidate, and to destroy. The flying wedge design was chosen to maximize firepower and minimize fire cross section when pointed helm-first at a target. The lack of traditional broadsides and need to flank allowed the Star Destroyer to bring immense impact to anything it faced, at the cost of having virtually no rearward defenses other than a smattering of turbolaser batteries and the standard stern defenses. The ship was a hulking behemoth, lacking any sort of refinement or artistic grace... a rather fitting testament to the doctrine of the government that ordered its creation.

A circle of holoemitters and an omnidirectional treadmill let the Chiss explore the bridge of this particular vessel. Although it was not unlike any of the other thousands of the ImpStar Deuce ships produced, being the flagship of one of the most famous members of his race it held great appeal to the Chiss walking its corridors some eight hundred years after its prime. Light organ music played in the background as Thurstal explored the nuances and slight customization of this ship as he had times innumerable. It was the equivalent to him of walking in a forested sanctuary, or enjoying a cold beverage on a hot sanded seaside - this was true relaxation, true meditative happiness.

A soft buzzing disrupted his solitude, and with a sigh he cut both the display and the music diminished to nothing. It was only a matter of time before he was to be interrupted, but to have it be this soon, this... punctual both satisfied and annoyed him. Just once, he thought as he exited the sim and returned to his desk, he could be just a couple minutes late, and allow me to enjoy this a bit more.Thoughts still rolling in his mind, he pressed the comm. The assistant picked up the link without pause, voice calm and technical, only the slightest edge betraying his disdain for the Admiral's recreational activities. "Admiral, Mr. Kiez is here for his appointment"

Friedrich Kiez, distant relation of Admiral Feyed Keiz, was one of the principal administrators of Kuat Research and Development. While he specialized in propulsion systems, his connections with the rest of the Board of Directors and his ability to cope with the Chiss made him an invaluable ally to Thurstal's oversight of the military arm of the famed shipyards. "Please show him in, and redirect all calls until our meeting is concluded." His voice was cool, calm, a resonant modulated baritone that would have done well at announcing official events. It did not carry weight of power, but the simple combination of timbre and confidence allowed the voice to carry well beyond the norm.

The door hissed open, and a robust man of 46 years came through with a booming laugh and a bone-crushing handshake. An overweight bear of a man with short-cropped hair, archaic round spectacles, and a seeming inability to tone down his enthusiasm, Friedrich Kiez was inherently both charismatic and intimidating. He followed through on his promises, whether they be positive or negative. "Admiral! I was beginning to think you were avoiding me. Me and the boys had a little bit of a pool going - seeing whether we'd find you asleep looking at the most recent designs." His laugh almost seemed to rattle the sealed portholes of his orbital administration complex, and Thurstal flexed his fingers slightly to nurse bloodflow back into the appendages.

"Perhaps if you had come fifteen minutes later, you would have." His tone was light, but carried an acidic edge that was completely lost on Kiez, who laughed again as he settled into a chair opposite the Admiral's own station. Thurstal circled the desk and sat in his own chair, a more comfortable replica of an Executor-class command chair. Say what you want about the bloated, ill-fated design, it lacked nothing for creature comforts.

"Me and the boys keep saying you've gotta get out more, Thurstal. Get out of this office and go enjoy life for once." Papers spilled as Kiez rummaged through an antique portfolio, before picking up a datachip and sliding it into the reader of a display terminal sitting on the desk. The door to the office hissed closed as the holoemitters came to life, soundproofing mats squeaking into place as a design came to life: a small Corvette-style ship.

The engineers had followed Thurstal's instructions rather well. Even with his ear pressed against the door, the administrative assistant to the Admiral could not hear even Friedrich's over-the-top nature. He sighed, then resumed his paperwork as the private meeting commenced within.
 
Some time later, the doors hissed open once more, and Friedrich looked much more subdued than he had when he first entered the meeting. "I will relay your review to the Board of Directors, Admiral. Be prepared to face them." The man threw a half-salute, nearly fumbling his portfolio as he exited towards the main lobby.

"Another set of bad plans, sir?" The assistant seemed to glide through the now-open door, depositing a set of flimsis contained in a large envelope on the Admiral's desk. For all of his faults and his barely concealed xenophobia, the man was quite good at his job.

"The trials and tribulations of bureaucracy, Cartosi. Just because someone happens to be an offshoot of the royal family doesn't make them qualified to manufacture substandard bulkheads, nor gives them the right to gouge us on price." He sighed, then picked up the folder and started to open it, then set it aside again. The burning red eyes closed a moment, and he turned to face the large portrait window behind his desk. Beyond, the jewel of Kuat was partially blocked by one of the massive orbital docks, the prow of a military transport peeking from one of the ends. For a moment, the Admiral thought of all of the ships that had passed through the yards in its nearly-millennial history. How many untold thousands, millions of ships of war had passed through these docks? How many planets worth of raw materials had been smelted in its furnaces, how many systems could have been purchased with the financial outlay for these fleets?

"The Royal Family will not take kindly to one of their family being snubbed, sir." The tone was almost clinical - not in the cool, detached way, but in the way a scalpel is clinical, cutting so fast you couldn't entirely be sure it had cut at all, until you found yourself bleeding from a thousand cuts. Captain Cartosi was a slight man, devoted to his Navy but not necessarily to its officers. However, serving a Fleet Admiral was a good way to gain his position, especially with an occasional backbite.

"I'm sure the Royal Family would take less kindly to having a hull failure six months from now because they let a name trump actual quality." Thurstal closed his eyes again, a sigh rattling in his chest. One of his continued failures, letting numbers and statistics get in the way of politics. He could likely have been a Grand Admiral by now, if he chose to play the political game. But he would not compromise his work for the sake of name-dropping and palm-greasing. "Please schedule my optical appointment for tomorrow at 1100, reschedule my meeting with the propulsion specialist to 1400, then you are dismissed for the day."

And none too soon, thought Cartosi as he brought himself to full attention. A crisp salute, a perfect about-face, then the man vanished from the office, door hissing closed in his wake.

After a brief moment, Thurstal rose from his chair, picking one of the flimsis from his folder and taking it with him to the simulator. Locking the bars in place, the holoemitters hummed before coming to life where he left off.

"Then prepare the fleet for hyperspace. And for battle."
 

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