Private Off we go, into the... oh whatever... (Silvers)

[Liram Angellus]

LOCATION: SILVER CONCORD CARRIER "LIBERATION"
TIME: 1350 HOURS LOCAL
SITUATION: FIRST ASSIGNMENT

The transport from Corellia dropped off all of the "newbies" onto the deck of the carrier, from fresh-faced deck crew to transferring ship staff to the new Air Boss that replaced the retiring one who could not stand the pilots buzzing the tower. There was another one too, a pilot, a Commander. He was new to the Silvers, but experienced and ranked via the Galactic Alliance, so they just brought him in with his commission. This may prove to be a bit of a mistake given his mouth and problem with authority. His skills and record could not be denied though, he was needed here, and while he knew that, he couldn't turn away. His life was about service, it was in his blood, his family knew this...

If you want to know more about my family just read my bio, okay?

He had his orders, he would report to the Admiral later on, but now it was a matter of finding his way around. True that the basic layout of a carrier is similar to others, no matter the government, but the fact is he was still trying to find his way around. Kicking himself for not simply following the labor droids that were stowing his gear, Liram found the mess hall and figured that there was as good a place as any to find something to eat. Grabbing a salad, because the nerf steaks looked more like burgers, he sat down and started to munch on his meal trying to make heads or tails of the crap map that they gave him. At least the GA treated you like a child and took you to step by step on your first day.

 

[Gir Quee]

"You know, sometimes I think you're an idiot," said Sariya, glancing at her chrono.

"No need to think," countered Ariela," he is an idiot, just a competent one. The new commander is at least twenty minutes late. He should have been here by now."

Gir ruefully shook his head, "One of these days, I'll remember why I keep the two of you around. But you're right, I think our new flyboy is a no-show."

"So then...should we get some chow then?" said his bodyguard.

"We've got some time before your next conference call," said his aide.

The admiral nodded, "We probably should. I think the flight back to the Undertow is not going to have the finest amenities."

Gir rose up from his seat, and the trio departed from the flag officer quarters. The man himself wasn't very familiar with the ship either, only having spent a handful of days on the carrier during his tour of the front before he'd return to his flagship, the massive Emerald Undertow. They passed through gaggles of sailors and pilots through a few checkpoints manned by the ever vigilant Antarrian Shock Marines before they entered one of the carrier's mess halls. As was his habit, the man briefly scanned through the room's denizens, looking for familiar faces to possibly sit down and chat with. He saw none, but he did see a face of someone that he had never met but seen in holos. The man from Hast nudged Ariela.

"Is that our flyboy over there?"

"Looks like it."

"Why don't see what's going on with him..."

The trio approached the man, with the man flanked on either side by his female compatriots.

"Are you Commander Angellus?" questioned the admiral, stretching out a hand towards Liram Angellus .

 

[Liram Angellus]

GAME ON YAKHEAD! ​

LOCATION: Carrier Mess​

LOCAL TIME: 1420 hours​

ORDERS: Eat Lunch​

Tag: Gir Quee​

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-” Crap, it’s the big guy himself.”-

Liram did not like meeting the bosses in a forum like this, in fact, he hated it. Sure, he had a problem with authority, it was ingrained in him. However, what else is in his blood is the decorum and professionalism to at least make a good first impression and leave wrecking that to later on. Standing at attention and offering the salute that the Admiral’s station deserved, he responded.

“Yes, SIR. Commander Liram Angellus, reporting for duty. My… apologies for my arrival. I am getting my bearings… and learning the operations of Silver Concord. SIR.”

His record preceded him, a military legacy, a resume showing insane but incredible instincts for flying, and a bit of a chip on his shoulder, something a good pilot needs. Resumes’s however do not always show what a man believes in and Liram was not a man who rode a desk. Offering a folder that he picked up off of the table with his free hand, his saluting hand did not leave his eyebrow.

"My orders, sir. They are in triplicate as per historical credential protocols in both Galactic Alliance and the old Republic."

He didn't know how the Silvers work, maybe they followed the proven military standard, maybe they just followed their own Bantha. It didn't matter but that was an old protocol that his father and grandfather pounded into his head "Triplicate is better than Single, it saves the need to make copies."

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