Conversations, Constants, and Careers

[Sogan Dalgas]

To say that Colonel Sogan Dalgas didn’t know where he was would have been one of those rare statements of both fact and fiction at the same time. He did in fact know that he was on a Nebulon-B frigate. He even knew where he was on the frigate. But where the frigate was; that was a mystery to him at the moment.

At the moment, they were having some downtime between larger missions; a platoon from Aurek Company had just left to hitch up with a task force to a planet close to the Corporate systems’ sphere of influence, laying groundwork for a future assignment for Dorn. Aurek's commander had been curious, but refrained from asking the question: why couldn't Aurek do that mission? Dalgas was being seen as showing favouritism to Dorn; truthfully, they had been occupying much of his attention as of late. That would be changing soon.

He hummed to himself quietly as he meandered down the corridors of the frigate, loosely and casually saluting the soldiers and other personnel he passed. None of them really caught his eye. He was meaning to do something, though none would be able to tell from the way he walked or hummed to himself, as if there was nothing out of place or that needed doing.

His expression didn’t even change when he saw Alexander Tur’enne sulking down the corridor in his direction. He did have to stop humming though in order to speak.

“Ah, Alexander!” the Special Forces Colonel said warmly. “Just the man I was looking for. I hope I am not inconveniencing you, but may I have a moment to speak with you?”

[Alexander Tur'enne]

Now was not a good time. A distinctly not good time. His entire afternoon had been wasted, performing covert reconnaissance on the cute guy he'd stumbled across in the locker room after his gym workout. It had been one of those must have moments, and with nothing better to do the recently liberated Xander had chosen to make a game of following him on the various errands said cute guy had gone on that afternoon.

After two and a half hours, Cute Guy had wandered back towards the habitat section of the ship; Xander had become excited by the prospect of finding out where the man's quarters were. Except, they weren't his quarters. They were her quarters. A creepily underclothed her, who seemed very happy to see him, if all the kissing and hugging and - he shuddered at the thought - heterosexuality was anything to go by. With a reluctant sigh he had departed; every step since had cultivated that frustration into his current irritated melancholy.

The mention of his name caught him off guard; particularly when he didn't entirely recognise the person that was speaking. He searched his mind: definately - well, hopefully - not someone he'd ever slept with before, so likely someone else; someone important, if age was anything to go by. He struck upon something. Douglas? DeGlasse? Something like that. Colonel, anyhow. Someone senior, in charge around the place or something. Politeness was probably necessary, then. That was a shame.

"Colonel," he greeted, trying to force his voice to be as warm as possible. He shrugged, casually as he could. "In all honesty, I'm at something of a loose end at the moment. Is there something I can help you with?"

[Sogan Dalgas]

Dalgas smiled, gesturing for Tur’enne to follow him. He seemed delighted that Alexander would be able to speak with him.

“Wonderful,” Colonel Dalgas said cheerfully. “But perhaps I should be a bit more polite. I am Colonel Dalgas. I am in charge of Dorn Company, which your sister is a part of. I hope you are well accommodated and have recovered well from your ordeal?”

Tur’enne seemed a bit wary still—his short “yes” gave little away—but Dalgas could tell that the man was well rested and didn’t seem to be lacking anything. He was, likely, still acclimating himself to his new surroundings. It could be quite jarring, to be pulled out of his previous situation in such a way to be placed here, on the temporary headquarters of Dalgas’s command.

“If there is anything you need, just ask me, and I’ll see if it can be done. You do seem to be much better. Always a nasty business, war, isn’t it?”

The last question seemed to be a rhetorical one, so Tur’enne remained silent. Dalgas continued.

“I do hope you’ve not been too bored. I was hoping you could tell me more about what you will be doing now that you are here. Do you have any prospects? We would be able to offer you transport and such to any place you may need to go, reasonably of course.”

[Alexander Tur'enne]

Mister 'Colonel Dalgas. I am in charge of Dorn Company' certainly talked a lot. Or at least, he seemed to, compared to the cliché stereotype that had been imprinted onto his brain by movies and the media. He wasn't even attractive either; and while intellectually Xander knew that not everyone in the universe was hunky and gorgeous like the holos attested, he couldn't help a slight shred of disappointment.

The question itself was irritating in that it required Xander to actually think about something. To be honest, the driving thought behin his defection had been a desire to wnd up somewhere non-Imperial. He'd simply assumed that by defecting, everything would be sorted. The holonet seemed to paint the Rebel Alliance as some amorphous entity that would absorb people unto itself, and then they just were. Surely they had an infrastructure for this sort of thing? Surely, for someone of his particular level of genius and capability, half the Rebellion would be fighting with each other to have him with their particular... thing?

So far, my 'prospects' extend to working my way through all the hot, horny, single and sexually experimental guys in the Rebel Alliance.

"I don't know," he answered bluntly. "I hadn't really given it much thought."