Foundations and Motions

[Daren Trevelan]

"Present...arms!" the XO yelled out in his best military voice. The stormtroopers held their weapons out in the typical presentation stance while those that remained armless brought their hands up in a swift hand salute. Captain Trevelan rapped his fingers against his jaw as he watched, slightly impressed by the display, though he'd seen better.

He marched casually back and forth in front of the men, almost tauntingly with his hands clasped behind his back. He wore his uniform with the utmost pride, and when he was around none doubted he was the CO of the flagship of this task force.

Daren turned an affirming eye to his XO, who nodded in return and faced the batallion again.

"Order...arms!" he cried, and the men dropped back to an attention stance. "Parade...rest." In a single movement they shot their feet a good twelve inches apart, their hands somewhat clasping behind their backs.

This gave the troops the chance to be able to move their bodies, and let the CO get a good look at the men in a position that required strenuous concentration to maintain correctly.

Upon inspecting them Captain Trevelan was pleased, and took his place next to his XO, Lieutenant Commander Stark, once again.

He gave another nod.

"Atten...shun!" the men snapped back to attention, arms neatly at their sides, feet spread at forty five degree angles. A smile played the captain's expression. They still needed to work on their timing.

The XO, having finished the course of the drill, did a right face to face his CO, and saluted. Daren returned the salute and nodded before the XO did a left face to face the batallion once again.

"Battallion....dis-missed!" he ordered. Every man in unison took a step back on the right foot before yelling in a rising crescendo:

"Aye sir!" before they each did an about face.

"Move," the XO ordered, and they began scattering to their designated areas.

Commander Stark lifted his cap from his head and ran his fingers through his scalp before turning to face the stern gaze of Captain Trevelan. Trevelan simply watched his subordinate and waited.

"They need work sir," Stark finally conceited before placing the cap back onto his black haired head. The captain nodded.

"We'll have to work on that...in place and marching drills reflect on a unit's battle readiness and efficiency," the captain said before turning to make is way for the entrance to the barrack.

They were currently landbound, waiting for the Star Destroyer Odysseus to finish its fueling and rearming operation before loading and jumping.

The two commanders of the starship entered the installation, just one of many military bases on the planet Omar Prime, where Captain Trevelan and his troops massed for their first real operation under the Balmorran banner.

While he wanted to be a member of the Empire again, this was apparently the closest thing to such with the whole split and break.

It was of no real consequence, Daren supposed, it was just a minor detriment to his climbing the rank charts.

When they reached Daren's temporary private quarters, he took a seat in the less than comfortable chair they'd provided him, turning his back to his XO who he had left standing.

He touched his fingers together and became lost in thought. He was a veteran of dozens of battles and was nearly captured at Chandrila during a diplomacy mission gone horridly awry. But under Admiral Millard's command he'd be doing far more than negotiating only to be betrayed after hours of hard work.

Or at least he hoped.

"What is our battle readiness?" he requested, resting his back against the leathery material of his chair.

"Sir we are at fifty-five percent combat efficiency, the Star Destroyer Odysseus will be prepped and ready in seventy two hours," Stark responded.

Daren simply nodded.

"I want the men drilled and triple drilled, do you understand Commander?" Daren said suddenly, shifting the entire conversation - if it could even be called that.

The commander was caught a bit off guard by the sudden subject change but nodded.

"Aye sir," he responded without debate.

"I want them marching better than the emperor's honor guard by the time you're done, do you understand that? We are off to battle in three days, everything needs to be perfect."

"Yes sir."

"That is all, you are dismissed Commander."

The commander clicked his heels and offered a quick salute, not arguing the point. They could have been doing more productive things - such as combat readiness scenarios - but he was in no position to complain. He was lucky the captain even accepted him as an XO, he was even more fortunate that he allowe dhim to keep his rank as Commander.

Daren was left alone to his thoughts.

[Daren Trevelan]

Commander Eilen Stark's green eyes glazed over with excitement as he saw the brisk and clean Dreadnaughts enter through the atmosphere, their shining hulks newly painted out of the captain's own funds. He had worked extensively to have these craft modified specifically for the coming conflict, including specially high speed repulsor lifts that would allow the ships to save fuel on sublight drives when in atmosphere.

What was the captain planning that involved dreadnaughts in atmospheres really? It really wasn't his place to question why, but Stark was extremely curious.

The captain was never himself just before combat, always switching into an elegant hunter, an animal of prey focused entirely on his objective, an objective that he had outlined very specifically to each and every one of his troops in full detail. If the situation came to blows they'd know what they'd have to do undoubtably.

The fighter jocks were being treated the best at this moment, being given free drinks at bars, having local prostitutes bought for them, being given all the tabacc and accomodations they could ask for, similarly to the stormtroopers and infantry, though even they did not receive quite as well treatment.

No one questioned why the fighter pilots were receiving such good treatment either. Not everyone under Trevelan's command was a rookie to battle.

They knew that they were trying to boost morale and give the men something to remember before they died. It was mainly the TIE fighter pilots who got it all. Rarely did these heroic fighters return from battle if it were expected to be a major battle.

While this did not deter pilots, it did not optimise them either.

Stark turned to the enlisted at his side who wore a typical light grey work uniform. He was working dilligently on a datapad, seeming to be taking note of everything moving in and out of the dockyard a few hundred kilometers off.

When the enlisted seemed to have a moment, Stark spoke up.

"How many Dreadnaughts are due in?" he asked casually, hands moving behind his back. The enlisted took a moment to look it up on his pad.

When he found the answer he looked up, standing at a relaxed attention it seemed. "Four sir, the Promethias, Uranus, Cronus, and Hyperion, all specially requested by Captain Trevelan sir," the young Imperial responded. Stark smiled inwardly.

"Thank you Sergeant," he said sincerely.

He stared straight up at the Dreadnaughts that were now moving into position about the repulsor powered refueling and arming stations where they would pick up their caches of weapons and war material.

From what the XO of the Odysseus had heard these ships followed the similar design of a Katana fleet Dreadnaught, carrying the traditional slave circuits that allowed a commander to command each of the ships with minimal crews. That was a double edged sword, for while Admiral Trevelan would like the lack of death probability and the lesser need for training, a slave circuit limited the amount of manuevers and battle positions a battleship could make.

But if worst came to worst there was always the Odysseus to back them up. Captain Trevelan was very confident in that ship, even though it had only seen a pair of battles, and he had only commanded it on one of those occasions.

The four warships were still a jewel to the eye though, no matter what their operational status.

Commander Stark then snapped out of his litle trance caused by the awe of the ships of Old Republic make. He had drilling to do. When he looked down at the foot of the cliff he now stood on - though it was not very hard - he could see his men all lined up and ready for the drills that Trevelan had ordered so extensively.

He sighed sightly and took a few step backs, getting into his speeder and making off for his men to drill them.

[Daren Trevelan]

The crewmen scurried about like little ants, all so focused and intent on their specific jobs it left Captain Trevelan simply smirking. The order of the Empire was never one be questioned, even with the waves upon waves of new recruits that simply lacked the experience required for true battle.

The Guild-Class Star Destroyer Odysseus was docked inside of a station of sorts, hovering just above the atmosphere of the planet Omar Prime. The structure around the vessel itself was enormous and could fit two or three more of the Star Destroyers in there.

This very station had been used thousands of times before, all the way from the Galactic Civil War to even the days of Admiral Thrawn's reign - of course during those years Daren was still in the academy at Carida.

His attention was caught by an authoritative young woman, decorated profoundly for her age with medals and at least three rows of ribbons, it could have been four, but she was at least four levels down and twenty meters away so it was difficult for Daren to really tell.

She reminded him almost of his wife before her passing to give him his son, with the same flowing, dirty blonde hair, the same authoritative aura. Most of the crewman about seemed agitated that they were taking orders from a woman, but she did not care in the least, she carried on with what she was doing, sending them off here and there to do tasks of both menial and important strature.

It took cooperation from every single person here to get a Guild-Class Star Destroyer up and running, ready for combat efficiency.

Inside the hangar bay he knew that the fighters were being polished and painted stark black to blend them in with deep space, as well as their missiles being loaded so that they could launch immediately after their resurgance from hyperspace.

He had gone through great stresses to be sure that this whole battle group looked perfect, like they had just come clean from the shipyards. They were to look perfect.

And perfect was how it all looked, inside as well as out, where even Vader and his Death Fleet would be envious.

He blew out a sigh and did an about face to look over the command center of the bridge of his Star Destroyer. Even here the fumes of wet paint assaulted his senses. Everything was being remodeled aboard the Odysseus. Everything had to be perfect for his first assignment as a captain of the Balmorran Empire.

[Kyle Deshere]

Borleais was an ugly planet, jungle ridden and horrid as far as the eye could see. The humidity was horrendous, it felt like the air was stuck to his skin, and his uniform did not help the comfort at all. Watching his men however, was more than a little comfort.

They worked with the utmost perfection, far superior to those of Captain Trevelan back at Omar Prime, but mainly because most of these troops had been with him since his days within the Order of the Fist. It was a tragic break up it, the loss of that order, especially when he was climbing the ranks so swiftly.

But alas the standing leader was incompetent, and he was left alone for many, many a year. Only recently at Captain Trevelan and Grand Admiral Millard given him a chance to prove his strategical and tactical worth to the Balmorran Empire after the Imperial break up.

Kyle slapped another large masquito that had found itself onto his neck that tried to burrow its long, pointed nose of a straw into his flesh in an attempt to drain him of his precious life's blood. He hated masquitos. And he hated this planet.

Standing half in and half out of his hovertank he watched the last of the details be set up by his troops. When the last charge was set, they began moving out, General Deshere's tank leading the way.

Behind them was the soaring explosion of the shield generator. And all in all it simply looked like a gas leak.