Shattered_Mirror
Writer Account
[ [member="Aryn Teth"] | [member="Cathul Thuku"] | [member="Lokthra Dawning"] | [member="Bandor Kre'fey"] | [member="Mathieu Bahreiko"] | [member="Jyoti Nooran"] | [member="Fiolette Yvarro"] | [member="Mazik Stazi"] ]
Command Deck // FIV "Eidolon" // Resurgent II Class Battlecruiser.
Indellian System, Ison Corridor - Gateway to Varonat.
First Order's Thirty-Second Fleet, "Vindicta." with the Indellian Planetary Defense Fleet.
Several Parsec's and Light Years away from Varonat.
Amidst the orderly hustle that gripped the primary bridge of the Eidolon, Admiral Saren found herself pacing across the central command trench with her hands clutched atop one another. It was a filthy habit that she had garnered ever since she had come out of retirement and started serving aboard Imperial warships. There was nary a place for her to remain idle, and seem like she was doing her job, despite the fact, there was nothing more that needed to be done. When she had served aboard Hapan vessels, their command bridges were vastly different than what was arrayed before her now. They were built with ivory panels, which partially absorbed the blinding light of the Hapes Cluster, and held a more feminine aesthetic in their overall design. Swooping structural support beams and curved terminal casings, dominated much of what was installed within their vessels, diminished only by the sight of the towering pearlescent command throne - from which the Captain could command the entirety of her warship with ease. It didn’t do their waistline any favours, but Astarii had enjoyed the sight of visually casting her eyes down on her subordinates. It gave her a feeling of importance, and authoritative weight to her every whim.
Alliance vessels, especially those that had once flown under the flag of the Omega Protectorate, held a particular, but similar charm in their aesthetic simplicity. There were a lot of exposed cables, making tripping a dangerous hazard, along with the source of many injury reports that were filed through the medical practitioner stationed aboard the starship. However, despite the ever-present danger to one’s ankles and knees, they held a militant charm in how everything and everyone had a purpose. There was no ostentatious panels that covered the walls, nor extravagant casings that cowled the various terminals stationed about the ship. They were not converted civilian starliners, either, which still held the hallmark trappings of comfort and pleasure. Every vessel, in its design, had been purpose-built for war. This meant that there was little deviation from the template, as new starships found themselves adopting the aesthetic flaws of the older models - depriving them of any tactical flexibility - leaving almost every engagement dreadfully dull when compared to her fights against the Ssi-Ruuvi Imperium.
The woman wanted, nay, craved to see something new that would force her imagination into overdrive, and allow her to flex her supposedly brilliant mind, rather than be left out in the cold - and deprived of something worth the effort.
Which was why she had begun pacing the length of the command trench, listening as her subordinates, as well as the Captain of her fleet’s flagship, relay orders and reports from one station to another. None, save the multiple communiques from Varonat, held any information in regards to a massive strike into the First Order’s territory. Their supply routes into the sector were secure, and many of the convoys had managed to be rerouted in time - thus avoiding the grisly fate met by those that were unable to avert their untimely demise. An odd fact that Astarii had sought to point out to her command staff since it seemed these so-called Heroes were more willing to kill innocents and non-combatants than they were to send them on their way respectfully. Had they not elected to establish themselves as morally superior to that of the First Order, such a factor would’ve been carelessly disregarded, but - instead, it proved to be more than enough for the propaganda machine to churn out Anti-Alliance adverts. Many of which had little interference and manipulation from the Security Bureau, making their jobs incredibly easy to shun the unrest their hated foes sought to seed amongst the Order’s populace.
Nevertheless, even though a majority of the Corellian Trade Spine, especially the distant world of Terminus and Javin, were blockaded by Alliance naval assets, the First Order could feel the tightening of the noose. Though it was agonizingly slow, and would doubtlessly take ages for the knot to strike the skin, such an act would’ve crippled the Imperial war machine as their line of supplies began to dwindle. However, when the Imperials had wrested control of the sector away from the various pirate gangs and resistance cells, they had foreseen such an eventuality coming to pass and took measures to safeguard themselves against it. Such as employing the local scouts to map out various routes through the Ivax Nebula, and the surrounding Yarith sector, and ensuring their loyalty by paying them well - and shipping them off to Ssi-Ruuvi space. The secret smuggling routes used by the underworld scum were supposedly lost when the stormtroopers of the First Order had arrested or subsequently killed those to be in possession of such secrets. There was little of the sector that the Security Bureau, and by extension the Navy, had not known about.
With that being said, there was always the possibility of information ended up in the wrong hands. Either through a massive bribe or by a defection of key personnel. Astarii’s furrowed brow had cocked inquisitively as her ears caught wind of a report that detailed several cronau returns from a previously unknown passageway that lead towards Varonat. Could the traitor Yvarro have known about this route and neglected to share it with her superiors? It was a possibility, she mused. Who knows what secrets she had willingly given? The Hapan only hoped that she would get her just deserves in due time. Betraying the First Order and swearing allegiance to those that had decimated Kaeshana, and openly mocked their founding ideals for the sake of justifying war? That was madness and one that Astarii couldn’t fathom. It would’ve driven her insane in the process, and thus wasn’t considered to be worth the effort. Let the traitor die, a traitor’s death.
For a moment, despite the fact of her enforced retirement, she supposed that any Alliance commander who had found out she had sworn an oath of service to the First Order would say the same of her - as she did of Fiolette. Though such accusations would be false, it would still cut a scathing blow to her sanity. She never betrayed her ideals of peace, security, and order. It was the Alliance that unmasked their treacherous designs, and the Jedi that propagated it. She was the one to introduce reforms to the New Jedi Order, in the wake of defeating the One Sith and the travesty that occurred on Chandrila. They couldn’t be trusted to lead, nor should they had found themselves in a position of power. It was a movement that split the forces of the Alliance in twain, as Anti-Jedi sentiment began to take hold in much of the rank and file. What was there to stop a Jedi from gathering the forces under his command and declaring himself the master of his domain? While Omai Rhen had assured her that there were no such Zealots within his militant body, Astarii found his words troubling.
He was a Jedi at the apex of the Alliance’s command structure, who held sway over the proceedings that ultimately governed the supposed Federation on the whole. That was most troubling. Naturally, she had made enemies in high places, who had seen her disgraced in a battle against a foe that was supposedly believed to have been defeated and forcibly ejected from the military as a result. So, as one can imagine due in part to much of these events occurring behind the scenes of the ever-shifting galactic stage, it was easy to misconstrue the truth to believe that she was a traitor to the ideals of the Alliance. No matter what she could’ve done, her former comrades would gun her down without a second thought if they had a chance. In fact, she assumed that they would - if they had the chance - go out of their way to do the deed themselves. To have her head on a spike; saying that they had avenged her wrong-doings, and preserved what little shreds of honour the Alliance had left.
She scoffed at the idea. At least then she’d have a fight, Astarii mused. With irritation beginning to take hold of her mind, the Imperial Admiral started collecting her errant thoughts, and instead channelled them towards more positive outlets. Perhaps if her fleet had remained on station for long enough, either avenue of the Alliance's blockade would begin their encroaching chokehold over the Corellian Trade Spine, or the sprawling armada that was embattled at Varonat would issue a call for reinforcement.
No matter which event occurred, her fleet’s standing orders were to remain on station an act as an ethereal bulwark - defending and denying entry into the Ison Corridor through the Indellian Gateway. The remaining fleets within the Anoat Sector would be more than able to turn away whatever advances the Alliance sought to make. She only needed to focus on her astral turf until the mobilization order had come.
[ [member="Sieger Ren"] | [member=Robogeber] | [member="Gromm Cardan"] | [member="Asharad Graush"] | [member="Cyrus Tregessar"] ]
First Order's Thirty-Second Fleet, "Vindicta." with the Indellian Planetary Defense Fleet.
