Omz222
20-10-2005, 19:59
Omzian Navy Southern Fleet Headquarters
OFNB Port Hagras VI
1201
"You are just on time!"
Senior Captain Boremote nodded respectfully at the remark as he slowly and carefully moved into the room, his boots careful not to make any unpleasant marks on the fine carpet of the broad room. Paintings and models of submerged vessels and their ordnance dotted around the room in their own fair share of shrouds of glass, as to protect them from the brutality of carelessness and dust. On the far end of the room, an oak wood bookshelf bore the entire 32-volume collection of the history of the Omzian Navy, while a giant model - made of the actual materials used in the construction of the submarine in fact - of a Tucuxi attack submarine sat below the sprawling mass of wirebound paper. A giant portrait of the Omzian Eternal President and Supreme Marshal, Hongaz Omazee (and he still wondered why they still need to bold his name every time it is recorded on paper), preceded above over a delicately-decorated pinewood desk, mists of steam rising from a fresh cup of tea. "I'm indeed glad to see you again, Admiral. It is my utmost privilege."
The Admiral, a burly man in his fifties, gestured in a friendly way as to shrug off the Captain's compliments in a friendly yet respectful way. "We have known each other long enough, Captain. No need for all the pleasantries," he said, and looked down onto a stand near a leather seat, that had been carefully positioned in front of the Admiral's desk. "Please, sit, and I've personally prepared tea for you too."
"The usual?", the Captain smiled, and lowered himself onto the soft, dark surfaces of the furniture. The momentary cold of the seat temporarily penetrated through the khaki of the Captain into his skin, but that didn't matter to him. He grabbed the handle of the fine china firmly, and dipped his taste buds into the comfort of warm tea. "The helicopter ride was quite exhausting indeed," the Captain remarked afterwards. "But nothing could suppress my feelings of excitement for both the daunt and the adventure of a new mission."
"I'm certainly glad to hear that, of course, Squadron Leader. I am still hearing great things about you, great things indeed," the Admiral said as he lowered himself onto his own chair. "The last time I saw you was when you were still a Lieutenant Commander, skipper on a patrol boat. Managed to torpedo a battleship! That's certainly a feat, isn't it! A diesel boat sinking a battleship!"
The Senior Captain smiled gratefully at the Admiral's compliments, and comforted himself at the thought of the astonishment that still resided in the Admiral, who was a submariner himself. "But since then I've been transferred to a nuclear attack squadron, of course. I must thank you for providing the credentials that I needed, sir," he said, the memories of Nuclear Power School still fresh. "So, if I may respectfully ask, Fleet Admiral Jonkares, what brings me here?" Truthfully speaking, he already knew why he was here, having already even grasped of a glimpse of details about the task set ahead for him. But he still needed to be here before he could dip himself into the thrill of the new task - partly because of curiosity, but most importantly because of duty and requirement.
"I thought that the Commodore has already informed you? Your Group Leader?", the Admiral inquired with a hint of surprise, referring to the Senior Captain's Group Leader, Commodore Hagraspore.
"Indeed he has," Boremote nodded and verbally agreed at the Admiral's suspicion. "In fact, I already got the first part of the mission tasking order, and I don't think it would need further mentioning here to begin with. However, I am tasked to refer to you for further orders and instructions, of course. I'm afraid that the suggestion had come directly from you. Security reasons?"
"Gotcha," Admiral Jonkares smiled, trying but failing at a sense of humour, while comforting himself from his self-embarrassment with the fact that the notion of rank would easily overpower any sign of amusement that the Captain might want to exhibit. "Not strictly for security reasons, even though this test is supposed to be classified anyways before we let the word out officially. But you must remember, this mission will be of the most importance to not only the Navy, but also the High Command as well. The success of the mission will lead to the induction of a new weapon platform, an instrument of warfare that is in itself responsible for our own shift of policies. You must understand this, Captain."
"Important enough for me to see you directly?", the Captain questioned. "Bureaucratic reasons?"
The Admiral swung his chair away from the sight of the Captain, towards the direction of the portrait of Hongaz Omazee that hung ever so valiantly and gracefully on the maroon wall of the Admiral's office. "I agree that politic trumps over military policies, but this isn't the point. You need to begin taking things seriously. And this test will be serious. Now, I trust your skills, expertise, and your considerateness. But don't screw this up. If you screw this up," the Admiral's chair rapidly swung back, the joints of the chair's mechanical structures moaning in a squeak at the suddenness of the action. "I will personally rip apart your rear end. Understand?"
Boremote swallowed a packet of air as if to express his fear and certainty of doom, and nodded. Indeed, normally failure would guarantee disciplinary action. But this time, failure would be inexcusable, no matter how impressive his past records proved to be. And failure would be evidentially more likely than usual, given the nature of the mission.
The Admiral perceived his nod quickly, and did not spare a moment at another period of silence. "Now, I personally won't keep you here too long - in fact, I will have an Admiral's Staff meeting within an hour," he said while grabbing a thick manila envelope from somewhere below the desk, almost all-knowingly of its location. He handed it to Captain, and kept his extended arm in its new set position. "Please, Captain, feel free to open it."
The Captain winced at the sight of paper, trying to recover from the shock received at the sight of paper. "Get used to this, Captain," the Admiral remarked with a laugh. "This is certainly a new security procedure. I know your surprise at this, but open the envelope."
The Captain did so, acting instinctively while opening the envelope in a skillful fashion. He reached into the envelope, and grabbed the only thing inside. It was another envelope. "C'mon, you can’t be this serious."
"Oh, yes we are. I think there's still another five envelopes in this."
Boremote acted with consideration of the Admiral's suggestion. Not long after, down to the last envelope, he opened it and reached for the loose leaves of paper inside. There were three, he counted, careful not to have the aging skin of his hand cut by the sharp edges of the sheets. He began to read it. "We are going to have eight OMASC advisors onboard too? Eight civilians?"
"That's correct," the Admiral confirmed. "And, as I recall, the Commodore as well. When you finish reading the paper, give it to me so I can shred it. You will receive the exact copy once you get back to base after the helo ride, from your Commodore. Read it carefully, Captain. If you succeed, Captain, you will be able to command the first Space Warfare Submarine Squadron ever activated, in the history of the Omzian Navy."
OFNB Port Hagras VI
1201
"You are just on time!"
Senior Captain Boremote nodded respectfully at the remark as he slowly and carefully moved into the room, his boots careful not to make any unpleasant marks on the fine carpet of the broad room. Paintings and models of submerged vessels and their ordnance dotted around the room in their own fair share of shrouds of glass, as to protect them from the brutality of carelessness and dust. On the far end of the room, an oak wood bookshelf bore the entire 32-volume collection of the history of the Omzian Navy, while a giant model - made of the actual materials used in the construction of the submarine in fact - of a Tucuxi attack submarine sat below the sprawling mass of wirebound paper. A giant portrait of the Omzian Eternal President and Supreme Marshal, Hongaz Omazee (and he still wondered why they still need to bold his name every time it is recorded on paper), preceded above over a delicately-decorated pinewood desk, mists of steam rising from a fresh cup of tea. "I'm indeed glad to see you again, Admiral. It is my utmost privilege."
The Admiral, a burly man in his fifties, gestured in a friendly way as to shrug off the Captain's compliments in a friendly yet respectful way. "We have known each other long enough, Captain. No need for all the pleasantries," he said, and looked down onto a stand near a leather seat, that had been carefully positioned in front of the Admiral's desk. "Please, sit, and I've personally prepared tea for you too."
"The usual?", the Captain smiled, and lowered himself onto the soft, dark surfaces of the furniture. The momentary cold of the seat temporarily penetrated through the khaki of the Captain into his skin, but that didn't matter to him. He grabbed the handle of the fine china firmly, and dipped his taste buds into the comfort of warm tea. "The helicopter ride was quite exhausting indeed," the Captain remarked afterwards. "But nothing could suppress my feelings of excitement for both the daunt and the adventure of a new mission."
"I'm certainly glad to hear that, of course, Squadron Leader. I am still hearing great things about you, great things indeed," the Admiral said as he lowered himself onto his own chair. "The last time I saw you was when you were still a Lieutenant Commander, skipper on a patrol boat. Managed to torpedo a battleship! That's certainly a feat, isn't it! A diesel boat sinking a battleship!"
The Senior Captain smiled gratefully at the Admiral's compliments, and comforted himself at the thought of the astonishment that still resided in the Admiral, who was a submariner himself. "But since then I've been transferred to a nuclear attack squadron, of course. I must thank you for providing the credentials that I needed, sir," he said, the memories of Nuclear Power School still fresh. "So, if I may respectfully ask, Fleet Admiral Jonkares, what brings me here?" Truthfully speaking, he already knew why he was here, having already even grasped of a glimpse of details about the task set ahead for him. But he still needed to be here before he could dip himself into the thrill of the new task - partly because of curiosity, but most importantly because of duty and requirement.
"I thought that the Commodore has already informed you? Your Group Leader?", the Admiral inquired with a hint of surprise, referring to the Senior Captain's Group Leader, Commodore Hagraspore.
"Indeed he has," Boremote nodded and verbally agreed at the Admiral's suspicion. "In fact, I already got the first part of the mission tasking order, and I don't think it would need further mentioning here to begin with. However, I am tasked to refer to you for further orders and instructions, of course. I'm afraid that the suggestion had come directly from you. Security reasons?"
"Gotcha," Admiral Jonkares smiled, trying but failing at a sense of humour, while comforting himself from his self-embarrassment with the fact that the notion of rank would easily overpower any sign of amusement that the Captain might want to exhibit. "Not strictly for security reasons, even though this test is supposed to be classified anyways before we let the word out officially. But you must remember, this mission will be of the most importance to not only the Navy, but also the High Command as well. The success of the mission will lead to the induction of a new weapon platform, an instrument of warfare that is in itself responsible for our own shift of policies. You must understand this, Captain."
"Important enough for me to see you directly?", the Captain questioned. "Bureaucratic reasons?"
The Admiral swung his chair away from the sight of the Captain, towards the direction of the portrait of Hongaz Omazee that hung ever so valiantly and gracefully on the maroon wall of the Admiral's office. "I agree that politic trumps over military policies, but this isn't the point. You need to begin taking things seriously. And this test will be serious. Now, I trust your skills, expertise, and your considerateness. But don't screw this up. If you screw this up," the Admiral's chair rapidly swung back, the joints of the chair's mechanical structures moaning in a squeak at the suddenness of the action. "I will personally rip apart your rear end. Understand?"
Boremote swallowed a packet of air as if to express his fear and certainty of doom, and nodded. Indeed, normally failure would guarantee disciplinary action. But this time, failure would be inexcusable, no matter how impressive his past records proved to be. And failure would be evidentially more likely than usual, given the nature of the mission.
The Admiral perceived his nod quickly, and did not spare a moment at another period of silence. "Now, I personally won't keep you here too long - in fact, I will have an Admiral's Staff meeting within an hour," he said while grabbing a thick manila envelope from somewhere below the desk, almost all-knowingly of its location. He handed it to Captain, and kept his extended arm in its new set position. "Please, Captain, feel free to open it."
The Captain winced at the sight of paper, trying to recover from the shock received at the sight of paper. "Get used to this, Captain," the Admiral remarked with a laugh. "This is certainly a new security procedure. I know your surprise at this, but open the envelope."
The Captain did so, acting instinctively while opening the envelope in a skillful fashion. He reached into the envelope, and grabbed the only thing inside. It was another envelope. "C'mon, you can’t be this serious."
"Oh, yes we are. I think there's still another five envelopes in this."
Boremote acted with consideration of the Admiral's suggestion. Not long after, down to the last envelope, he opened it and reached for the loose leaves of paper inside. There were three, he counted, careful not to have the aging skin of his hand cut by the sharp edges of the sheets. He began to read it. "We are going to have eight OMASC advisors onboard too? Eight civilians?"
"That's correct," the Admiral confirmed. "And, as I recall, the Commodore as well. When you finish reading the paper, give it to me so I can shred it. You will receive the exact copy once you get back to base after the helo ride, from your Commodore. Read it carefully, Captain. If you succeed, Captain, you will be able to command the first Space Warfare Submarine Squadron ever activated, in the history of the Omzian Navy."