Telros
24-12-2006, 01:16
Space was quiet. Well, it was always quiet, but for Commander Westman, it was particularly quiet these days. They had so far been in no wars yet, and had been fairly peaceful. However, Archon Valoris and High Command had known that they needed to find an alliance, and prove themselves to the galaxy that they were not some weak nation that was ready to be consumed by the various galactic powers. So, after some due negotiations and talks, they had joined the Republic. Led by the Taledonian Empire, this alliance seemed fairly powerful, and was democratic to boot, with the reformers of Loriiea who made sure their rights were protected. Things went smoothly. They sent Senators and representatives to help facilitate laws and act in the due process of Republican law. With the conflict brewing in the Charybdis Cluster, they had even sent ships. All this, however, had bogged down. Their invading fleet in the Cluster was basically waiting for the Chronosians to finish taking a planet, which was under siege and looking to last a good while longer. Add onto that the dissatisfaction within the Telrosian populace. They were angered that so much of their fleet had been absorbed by the Legions and what they were left with basically had as much power to defend their nation as a squirt-gun.
So, they had done as every democratic nation has done in the past: put up options for their next course and have the populous vote on it. Surprisingly, the it was an almost unanimous vote to secede and pull out from the Republic. And, for the last three hours, Archon Valoris and the Telrosian Senators had been facilitating the withdrawal of Telrosian forces and making their nation whole again. Westman shook his head and sighed. It was times like these that made him nervous. When you were pulling out of an alliance, your military scattered and slowly returning, you were vulnerable. Several years had passed and they had regained all of their military. They could now protect their nation again.
"Lieutenant Donario, shift course to mark 098089." A young man in his twenties, Donario was a competent officer, if a bit shy and unwilling to put forth ideas in the presence of his superiors. Commander Westman had seen to it that he had made the man comfortable around him; you never knew when you were in a tight bind and the quietest among you may have the solution to get out of it. He turned and looked at Westman. "Aye, sir. Changing course to 098089. The Shadow and Knife's Edge are following as well." Westman nodded.
"Good, notify me if anything changes. I am going to review our orders." Donario saluted, something which the Commander returned, and he left the bridge. Westman made his through his ship, the destroyer Archon. It was a reliable ship, having seen action in the various conflicts before his time. And he hoped it stayed that way. Soon, he came upon the entryway to his office, a door with the black lettering "COMMANDER WESTMAN" on it. It was rather bleak and non-decorative. It had been a needed change in policy, as officers in the fleet who were allowed lucrative rooms had been among the first to rebel against the Republic. Putting in the code into the keypad, a dull beep sounded and the door silently slid open. Inside was a simple brown desk, a cot on the far wall, portraits of family, the various units he trained with, his graduation from the OCS academy on Solaris V and the photo of when he was promoted to Commander. Westman moved over to his desk and sat down in his padded chair. On his desk were his patrol orders. However, though he had said he was here to review them, he really only wanted a bottle of scotch.
Glancing furtively around the room, he opened a secret panel and took out his glass and bottle of scotch. The Commander had much more in the trunk beneath his bed but the compartment could only hold one bottle. He poured the brown liquid into the glass and took a long sip. The burning substance tore it's way down his throat and he sighed in satisfaction.
Nothing helped him unwind better than the taste of Scotch.
So, they had done as every democratic nation has done in the past: put up options for their next course and have the populous vote on it. Surprisingly, the it was an almost unanimous vote to secede and pull out from the Republic. And, for the last three hours, Archon Valoris and the Telrosian Senators had been facilitating the withdrawal of Telrosian forces and making their nation whole again. Westman shook his head and sighed. It was times like these that made him nervous. When you were pulling out of an alliance, your military scattered and slowly returning, you were vulnerable. Several years had passed and they had regained all of their military. They could now protect their nation again.
"Lieutenant Donario, shift course to mark 098089." A young man in his twenties, Donario was a competent officer, if a bit shy and unwilling to put forth ideas in the presence of his superiors. Commander Westman had seen to it that he had made the man comfortable around him; you never knew when you were in a tight bind and the quietest among you may have the solution to get out of it. He turned and looked at Westman. "Aye, sir. Changing course to 098089. The Shadow and Knife's Edge are following as well." Westman nodded.
"Good, notify me if anything changes. I am going to review our orders." Donario saluted, something which the Commander returned, and he left the bridge. Westman made his through his ship, the destroyer Archon. It was a reliable ship, having seen action in the various conflicts before his time. And he hoped it stayed that way. Soon, he came upon the entryway to his office, a door with the black lettering "COMMANDER WESTMAN" on it. It was rather bleak and non-decorative. It had been a needed change in policy, as officers in the fleet who were allowed lucrative rooms had been among the first to rebel against the Republic. Putting in the code into the keypad, a dull beep sounded and the door silently slid open. Inside was a simple brown desk, a cot on the far wall, portraits of family, the various units he trained with, his graduation from the OCS academy on Solaris V and the photo of when he was promoted to Commander. Westman moved over to his desk and sat down in his padded chair. On his desk were his patrol orders. However, though he had said he was here to review them, he really only wanted a bottle of scotch.
Glancing furtively around the room, he opened a secret panel and took out his glass and bottle of scotch. The Commander had much more in the trunk beneath his bed but the compartment could only hold one bottle. He poured the brown liquid into the glass and took a long sip. The burning substance tore it's way down his throat and he sighed in satisfaction.
Nothing helped him unwind better than the taste of Scotch.