Weekend leave

[Captain Tyle]

Tyle paused just before the doorway, allowing a stim-smoking Twi'Lek to leave the B&G. Behind the Captain, the lights of Coruscant shone like a thousand fireworks in the night sky. He pulled his officer's cap down, walking inside quietly. The door guard saluted, and allowed him to pass. Around him, the sound of revelry filled the air, as he searched through the haze to find a seat. Tyle straddled a barstool, fingering out a bottle of gin, sitting across the bar, on the shelf. The barkeep brought it down, with a shot glass. Tyle filled the shot to the brim with the clear liquor, taking it down immediately, and following it up with another to chase. As he set the glass down, he seemed to stare off, behind and beyond the bartender...looking at nothing at all.

[General Tohmahawk]

"Well, well, well.... look what the bantha just dragged in"

He looked a good deal rougher than the last time Tyle had seen him - rougher, with much heavier grade eye shades, but still dressed in a black military uniforn, with trench coat. Tohmahawk grabbed a barstool and slid it over, nodding at the bartender of r his usual. "Never expected to see you back in this shithole"

[Captain Tyle]

Tyle gave his peer a nod, sliding the gin in his direction, after filling another shot.

"I never do, either. Even manage to suprise myself."

Tyle's eyes went distant again, and then he took another drink, occupying himself for a few moments with the empty shot glass, rolling it about with his fingers. After some time, he stopped, setting the glass back on the counter.

"...Yeah. One Two Seven pulled from the Balmorran DMZ two days ago. Guess they figured we'd taken enough for one sitting."

He looked back up to Tohmahawk's weathered face...a reflection of his own.

"Look like Hell, Jim."

[General Tohmahawk]

"Yeah, got good reason for that"

He sniffed the drink (Damn, thats good whiskey) before knocking it back.

"Some barstard nearly got me on Arcan. Should have died. So I thought, what the hell, I'll get out while I can still walk. Had a real nice retirement planned out, sit back and relax, do what I wanted to do.... then the Chief of State finds out I'm still alive, calls me here, then puts me back on active duty"

The glass had been refilled. The General picked the glas up, seemed to look into it, as if trying to find reason in it.

"Bitch wanted to put me in Supreme Command. Told her to go <smallfont color={hovercolor}>-Censored-</smallfont> herself, but she's still trying. Me, I dont want no <smallfont color={hovercolor}>-Censored-</smallfont>ing desk job.. So.... right now I'm a General without an army. Pretty <smallfont color={hovercolor}>-Censored-</smallfont>ed up, aint it?"

[Sol Blake]

Sol had been lying on his bed in his temporary accomodation when he heard a few of the other guys getting ready to go out. They had intentions of making the most of the weekend no doubt, he on the other hand was considering a quiet night with a book and a good single malt Corellian liquor. But considering the lighting and stuffiness the thought of going out had become too appealling to resist.

"That could be the captain--" He looked to the others unsure if they were listening or not then pointed, "--over there."

He then left them to deliberate over what to do, this was their first evening together and Sol liked to stay quiet and figure people out first before getting chatty. Not being very familiar with the area, the other four decided on following suit, quite literally as it looked like Tyle was dressed smarter than all the other inhabitants.

Once inside, Sol walked with deliberate caution towards the bar, carefully looking around him unsure of what to expect. The uniform acting as a beacon atracting all kinds of unneccessary attention. He arrived at the bar sooner than he thought he would, he was somewhat preoccupied with watching some of the more interesting patrons. So many different kinds of people; there was a large mongoose conversing casually with a dark-haired man, they seemed to know each other fairly well. A Rodian couple sat with an old, greying man and what appeared to be his young, Jedi apprentice of about ten years of age. A band of Bith musicians complemented nicely the lively evening mood.

The sound of a glass chiming against the bar startled him a little and he looked to the side. It was the captain, at least he thought it was and he seemed to be staring off into space. Blake's right eye narrowed in thought, he turned to walk away then thought now was as good a time as any to introduce himself. He straightened his posture and cleared his throat.

"Excuse me, sir." The man turned to him. Sol saluted and introduced himself. "Private Sol Blake. Would you be Captain Tyle?"

[Captain Tyle]

Exchanging a knowing nod with the General, Tyle turned to the newcomer, glancing him up and down before returning the soldier's salute in a more casual manner.

"At ease, Private Blake."

He noted the man's shoulder patch. 127th. Must be a replacement. Greener than a Rodian's butt rash, but they all started out that way.

"Transfer orders?"

[Sol Blake]

One would immediatly assume that in the event of recieving an order to be at ease that they would actually do so, but in practise, on handing in your transfer orders, it was quite the opposite. He didn't speak in response and instead fumbled about for the slip inside his jacket pocket.

With an in audible sigh he retrieved the orders and handed them over feeling a little uneasy with being faced with not just one but two officers of the NRSF.

[Captain Tyle]

Tyle spent a few seconds glancing over the document, before returning it to Blake.

"Welcome to the Krayts, Private. You'll be assigned to second platoon, so talk to Lieutenant Hiller for anything further. Enjoy Coruscant, but don't get used to the Core. We've got a week, maybe less, before we ship out again. Training exercise is at 0600 tomorrow, so fall out till then."

Tyle pulled the bottle of gin back to him, angling the neck in Blake's direction.

"Drink?"

[Sol Blake]

"Ah-Nah! No thanks." He said raising his hands in front of him. He allowed a slight grin. "I never drink when I change platoons!"

Of course he wasn't being serious but decided to be light-hearted about it, after all he didn't want to offend his superiors in their first meeting. He broke eye contact a moment to gesture to those who had entered the establishment with him. He was good at remembering names.

"These guys are also being transferred to the 127th. Privates Aaron Lewes, Davis Occeron, Chris Alma and Bren Falshek." He announced steadily, they looked a little on edge too so in some way Sol found that a little comforting. He turned back to his superior.

"Sir, the Captain of my previous platoon wasn't too informative about your company. Could you tell me what the Krayts have been up to?" He asked, relaxing a little. He glanced to the side and slid a stool in his direction.

[Captain Tyle]

"Orders, gentlemen?"

One by one, each passed off their transfer papers to Tyle. He glanced at each, returning them to their respective owners.

"You'll be picking up the slack in 2nd platoon. They got hit the worst. Talk to Lieutenant Hiller for squad assignment. As you were."

He dismissed their 'at attention' stance with a casual salute, allowing the four privates to resume their free time. Turning back to Blake, he refilled another shot of gin.

"Blake, was it?"

Downing the shot, Tyle grimaced, sliding the glass back to the counter.

"You came from 109, right? Well, we've been on active status for four months, on interdiction raids around the Balmorran DMZ. Been a lot of hard-nose fighting against one of the Warlords. Nobody wants to dislodge themselves from their respective rocks, so its getting slogged down. We hit some perimeter moons, running strike drops and OELOs, but the issue's still in doubt."

He smirked.

"If you're looking for medals and/or pine boxes, then this is the luckiest day of your life, Private."

[Sophia Harten]

Sophia made her way into the bar. Late as it was, she always needed some time to unwind after a days work. After all, organizing information on mission requirments and trying to figure out what the enemy would do next wasn't a light-weight job. But it was one she enjoyed.

As she wove between tables, she spotted her commanding officer, Captain Tyle, seated with another. She didn't want to disturb them, but felt it would be respectful to at least greet the Captain.

She walked up to the table, and saluted sharply, before easing up a bit.

Good evening, Captain.

[Marc Tycho]

It had been a while since Marc had been back on old stary Conscurant, infact it must have been 5 years, but that was beside the point. Tonight a few more tranferrs were arriving and Marc was orderd to come and meet the crew, if you couldent trust the medic, who could you trust?. They were all diffrent guys, the best of the best in there sqaud and they had all passed into the NRSF,Marc supposed it was for the best that he had top guys around him, but why would they need a Medic if they were that good?

The bar was packed to the brim, but marc could easily place out Captain Tyle from a mile off, his table only a short walk away. Marc brushed the hairs from his shoulder made himself look presentable and walked briskly to the table.

'Evening sir, i was told to come here and meet the new guys...' He said with a strait face to Tyle 'Im Marc Tycho, Private 1st Class Medic..' he said looking towards Blake.

[General Tohmahawk]

Tohmahawk turned around, looking over the new recruits. Wet behind the ears, but they seemed okay. If they lived through the first week.

[Sol Blake]

"Well, to be honest, sir, and I mean no disrespect by this but--" He had lowered himself onto the stool but was cut off by the newest arrival and a rather stunning one at that. She gave an immediate impression. He sat back and enjoyed the view.

Almost on cue, another man stepped forward and introduced himself as Marc Tycho. His nervousness rivaled by his enthusiasm which was something pleasing to behold.

[Captain Tyle]

"Sophia, Doc."

Tyle regarded his I.O. and 1st platoon's medic, as they entered the B&G.

"This is one of the replacements...Private Blake. Private, this is Doc Tycho, first platoon, and our I.O., Lieutenant Harten."

Once introductions were out of the way, Tyle prompted Blake.

"You were saying, Private?"

[Sol Blake]

Standing, Sol looked on Harten and saluted as was appropriate. "Leuitenant Harten." He smiled and looked to the medic private. He grinned and extended Tycho his hand in greeting. "Private Tycho, pleased to meet you."

Once again seated, Sol was suprised that the captain had remembered that he had been about to say something. He rumbed his hands and looked down for a moment as he began explaining.

"Well, I just don't believe in the glory of war." He looked up and met the captain's stare. Perhaps he didn't approve of what he heard. "I am not what and who I am because I seek medals or long for death. I do what I do because I believe in it and feel if you're in it for medals and glory then you'd be better off being a celebrity."

He shrugged feeling a little awkward, then called the bartender over and ordered a glass of water.

[General Tohmahawk]

"Bout time someone said it straight up" muttered Tohmahawk, picking up his refreshed drink.

[Marc Tycho]

Ignoring the words from Tohmahawk Marc pulled out a chair for the Leuitentant and took out a seat for himself with a simpleword of ' Ma'am''

'Nice to meet you Private Blake, good to have you aboard, its been a while since we had some new guys in 127ths, its a nice change...' Marc said with a smile. 'Just call me Doc...'he added.

[Captain Tyle]

Tyle reached for the gin again. It was peculiar that the Captain could take so much repeated abuse from the bottle without showing any ill effects, except for the smile he now wore in Blake's direction.

"Truth, Justice and the Republic way, right?"

He laughed a little, pouring up another go.

"The 1000 credit hazard pay increase doesn't hurt. After all, who in their right mind jumps out of a perfectly good starship into a planet's orbit?"

[Sol Blake]

"I think it's best you don't ask that question in the future. I'm still stuck on the "in their right mind" bit." Sol grinned and took a sip of water, it left him feeling unsatisfied after looking forward to a nice, warm single malt. But after not accepting the captain's gin offer he daren't be so disrespectful.

"How long you been with the Krayts, Doc?"

[Marc Tycho]

'I'd say ever since we started fighting around Balmorran space...so about 4 months' He said with a nod towards Blake. ' Jumping out of drop ships at 3 miles up is what these boys do best... im just there for the ride and to take care of these accident prone guys man...' He said with a smile towards Tyle.

[Captain Tyle]

Tyle smiled at the comment...eyeing the dregs of the gin.

"I don't think Private Blake is in such sorry shape as the rest of the grunts. He's got this far, so he's popped his space cherry at least."

He tapped the silver New Republic crest over Blake's commission bar, the symbol of his orbital jump status. He shrugged.

"But all bets are off when live fire's concerned. Just remember the soldier's first rule. Shoot like you piss...straight ahead."

[Pierce Tondry]

"You shoot straight ahead, then all they have to do is stand to one side," Pierce Tondry spoke up from a table nearby. How long he'd been there was anybody's guess, but he'd apparently decided that company loved misery and that he should join in the conversation, both figuratively and literally. He stood and occupied a seat next to Tohmahawk.

"Marksman's first rule: always hit your target," he told Blake. "General. Captain. How goes the good fight?"

[Captain Tyle]

Tyle canted his head sideways, mumbling.

"Don't let him try and tell you anything, he's a dren-damned buckethead, with a fresh coat of republic red paint slapped on his <smallfont color={hovercolor}>-Censored-</smallfont><smallfont color={hovercolor}>-Censored-</smallfont><smallfont color={hovercolor}>-Censored-</smallfont>."

His eyes slanted back to Tondry, and he winked.

"Good fight's a helluva lot better on weekend leave, that's for sure. I almost forgot what shaving with hot water felt like."

[Pierce Tondry]

"Yeah," Pierce rumbled. "Been a long damn time since I've done anything other than sneak-and-peek or shoot-and-loot. Gets tiring."

"But," he added after a moment's reflection. "Sometimes you gotta remember why you fight. I've got a permanent reminder, now. And even better, I've got my rifle back to do it with."

He laughed. "So what kinda ops you been on, Tyle? If it was stationary defense, I feel your pain."

[Captain Tyle]

"Not so lucky."

Tyle poured up the dregs of gin into his glass.

"We've been harassing the Balmorran remnant, and engaging their frontier. Command believes they're our main threat origin for any coming Imperial counteroffensive, so we're being proactive."

He drained the shot, continuing.

"Hell, its not even a 'wartime operation'. Command is very deliberate. We are...patrolling."

[Pierce Tondry]

Pierce made a noise of disgust in the back of his throat. "Patrolling. One of these days, politicians are going to start saying what they mean. That's when you know the universe has gone to hell, and you're just along for one freaked-out wild ride."

"I'd love to be out there mixing it up, but Cracken, almighty Cracken, doesn't trust me, a former Imp, to do my former comrades ill. One of these days, I'm just going to sock the old fat man in the jowls and be done with it."

[Marcus Telcontar]

"While your at it, kick him in the balls for me" snarled Tohmahawk. "Frelling desk jockeys wouldnt know how to fight. And that's what the Cheif of State wants me back for. Take command of all ground force. Screw that, that means paperwork and sucking dick here. I'd rather have a bunch of <smallfont color=#FFFF40>-Censored-</smallfont>s pointing guns at me, that way I know who the enemy is... not like these slimy beaua<smallfont color=#FFFF40>-Censored-</smallfont>ingcrats"

OOC Just pretend I posted with the rgith account :x

[Captain Tyle]

"Yeah...I just want to be sure that if we take heat while holding a DZ, that we can either get support, or get a proper dust-off. I don't like having my hands tied."

[Sol Blake]

"I've heard the Balmorran Empire is the most formidable of the Imperial factions. Apparently, they are the most motivated of all the splinter groups and on their home turf will no doubt prove to be quite resourceful." He said to himself moreso than anybody else. Tyle wasn't joking when he said it is a medal and pine box affair.

"And I know what you mean." He confessed to the captain, snapping back to reality. "One-O-Nine was caught in a similar rut on Carratos two cycles ago. We stood less chance than a wamprat in hunting season and it really was a matter of waiting until your time came. A lot of men were lost but in all honesty we would have been no worse off had we a bullseye painted on our hides." He slid his glas of water aside and smiled. "So the Krayts have been in a similar situation, eh? Hence the replacements."

He scratched the back of his head and added, "It's wierd, I thought the moment we took the capital then we'd hit the weakened and scattered remnant Imperial forces hard taking them out for good. We have the upper hand now, so why all the hesitation?"

[Captain Tyle]

"It was one thing when it was one unified empire. If you could see the right hand, you had a good guess at where the left hand was. With all these factions and warlords now, its not so cut and dry. Each has enough firepower to be a serious threat, combined with any acts of desperation...they don't have much to lose, and they're not running short on targets. So instead of sitting on our hands until we single one out, we're harassing all of them to the point of disrupting their infrastructure."

[Sophia Harten]

Sophia had nodded towards the new recruits direction upon his greeting to her, before he started chatting again with the Captain. During that time, she went ahead and ordered her usual Corellian ale. She was born on Corellia, her father having been a die-hard Corellian, and by reputation tough as nails. But what most people didn't know was that she had a soft side, given to her by her mother who was of Alderran descent.

She got teased often enough when in school about the similarities between her parents and the famous duo who had brought the New Republic to life. That was probably instrumental in bringing her to where she stands today; a loyal protector as part of the group that safe-guards the New Republic from all evil.

She listened to the conversation at the table, taking a gulp from her ale every now and then, and decided to pipe in a word.

And it'd be a helluva lot easier if the Empire was still one big happy family in order to gather intelligence. But what with them spread out like so much space dust, it's not an easy task.

The corner of her lip curled into a half-smile, one that looked like it enjoyed the challenge.

But, then again, who said life was easy. At least those factions left behind keep us on our toes.