Musical Chairs

[Vansen Tyree]

Fourth Fleet Command, Moonus Mandel

Vansen was glad to be away from Bothawui for a few days, even if all he'd done was exchange one mountain of flimsiwork and over-stuffed schedule of tedious meetings for another. At least here, each flimsi bore the seal of the Alliance Defense Forces, and while that was only a minor superficial difference from the Senate sealed documents he was used to, on some level it made a world of difference. Politics was a theatre of combat that he loathed and detested, one that he'd never aspired to, one that hadn't been part of the deal when he'd sworn his oaths to the Republic, the Empire, and the Alliance. It was something he'd been drawn into, like a starship ripped from hyperspace by the gravity wells of an interdictor, torn from it's intended course and forced to languish in some unfamiliar unexpected location, plagued on all sides by ambush.

He scowled at the next memo as he lifted it from the pile and squinted through his weary eye at the header. Something from the government of Moonus Mandel. Bastard politicians wouldn't leave him alone even while he was on a military base. He made a mental note to instruct his military aide to bounce any such correspondence to his political aide at the Intergalactic Trade Mission; then he thought better of it, grabbing a stylus and making a physical note to assign the task to ADAR instead, lest he forget it. It felt wrong to expect the Lupine construct to function like a protocol droid: ADAR's mind deserved to be woven into the systems of a warship, not entangled within the minutiae of an unwilling bureaucrat. In that way, he and ADAR were similar: both deprived of their true purpose by factors beyond their control.

Still, even in the worst of bad situations there were benefits to be gleaned, and best case scenarios to be constructed. Vansen didn't smile as he regarded the next document, but the crinkling of the crows feet beside his unobstructed eye socket and the slight softening of the perpetual scowl he almost wore was about as close as he ever got. It wasn't a lengthy memo, but the information was welcome: a confirmation of the transfer of rank and commission for two officers to the naval service; Commander Jaden Luka from the Starfighter Corps, and Major Kes Akiena from the Alliance's covert research division. It was a strange message to receive, all things considered: back in the glory days, a change in rank and service was about as complicated as requisitioning a new set of pips. With the Alliance striving for legitimacy though, the military had overcompensated it's way into formalities such as this, and Vansen was glad of it. Luka didn't know it now, and wouldn't admit it even if he did, but his potential was far too big for the cockpit he was so determined to remain in, and Cirrsseeto Quez was exactly the sort of man to bring out Luka's best. Akiena on the other hand? That was a whole saga unto itself, and a gamble that Vansen was eager to see played out.

The Admiral reached for the edge of his desk, his thumb pressing against a print scanner, triggering the latch on a concealed drawer. It was intended for a blaster or something of the sort, he supposed; the desk had been shipped from Bothawui, and the Bothans sure did love their concealed compartments. For Vansen though, it was something else: a tiny repository of items that he preferred people not know he had kept. Transfer of command papers, from when Leela Vorega had replaced him as Captain of the Valiant. A requisition receipt, the first request for supplies from Jovan Station; and another for supplies to be transferred to the . Paperwork for the recent promotion of Carré Inirial, and a medical report from her doctor requesting reduced duties in light of her pregnancy. There was a duplicate for a letter of commendation to Captain Quez and the crew of the Novgorod, concerning their recent encounter with an advanced and unknown alien race. A copy of a message from the Minister of Commerce, announcing the creation of Incom-Koensayr-Meorrrei. There were letters from former subordinates who had gone on to other, greater things: unnecessary thanks, requests for advice, congratulations for his own achievements, even the odd friendly correspondence with no ulterior motive at all. It was a reminder of his victories; his successes; proof that his impact on the galaxy resulted in a positive change. It was not the kind of trove that the eternally scowling Admiral should possess, and yet he guarded it with the utmost discretion, because contained within was his single most prized possession.

Hope.

Carefully, Vansen added the transfer announcement to the repository, his eye lingering on the uppermost items before he tore it away, and slid the secret door closed. For a few blissful moments, he felt unburdened; he felt at peace, younger even, the slump in his shoulders that made it look like he was carrying the weight of the galaxy around with him lessening for the first time in decades.

It all shattered as the intercom on his desk chimed, the infuriation of duty sending the galaxy's mass crashing back onto him. "Yes?" he grunted, with more irritation in his voice than the Ensign outside probably deserved.

"I have Captain Terius and Commander Inirial here, sir. You requested to see them."

A brief flicker of optimism tiptoed across Vansen's vision. Another opportunity for change, perhaps. Another recalibration. Another minor improvement.

"Yes," he responded quietly. "Yes I did." His brow furrowed, fostering focus at the forefront of his mind. "Very well, Ensign. Send them in."

[Soto Terius]

The Commander had been here when he arrived. That had been unsettling. Soto knew him of course: Commander Inirial had worked with Task Force 42 back when the Alliance had still been a rebellion. Back when the galaxy had been oblivious to the fact that Dan Thule was anything but a General. Back when people had still thought Loklorien s'Ilancy was still a Jedi. The Captain wasn't sure what stung more: the fact that he'd been so easily fooled, so easily deceived; or the fact that no matter how hard he looked back at those days, he couldn't think of a single decision, a single moment of trust, a single obeyed order that hadn't seemed like the best choice at the time.

Inirial hadn't seen it either; Soto wondered if that was why the Commander now seemed to sobre and studious. Even now, waiting outside the offices of Admiral Tyree, Inirial was still buried in datapads, comparing entries, making notes - intel stuff. Terius shuddered at the thought. Vital as intelligence was, and despite the important victories that the likes of Alliance Intelligence and the Bothan Spynet had helped to bring about, something about them just didn't sit right. Maybe it as because back before the rebellion he'd been an engineer: he was used to an environment where answers were everything, and secrecy was a hurdle. Granted, throw corporate life into the mix and the two became as similar as they were different: you kept secrets from your competitors, you tried your best to understand and mimic all of their advances to keep pace; even so, engineering was about discovery, about creating an answer, using that answer, and getting the results out there. Terius couldn't help pondering how many secrets Inirial knew that would never see the light of day.

Then again, maybe it had nothing to do with engineering at all. Maybe it was just because Soto was Corellian, and intelligence felt a little too close to odds and statistics for comfort.

Captain Terius remained on his feet as the Ensign announced his arrival, in concert with the Commander. Curious. Inirial wasn't early for the meeting after his, or still waiting on the one before; whatever reason had summoned Soto and the Destiny back to Moonus Mandel, the Commander and Fleet Intelligence were somehow involved. The Captain only hoped that it wasn't another mundane courier assignment: he was pretty sure his crew would mutiny if they were assigned another taxi run so soon after delivering the Admiral for his recent visit to Jovan Station.

"The Admiral will see you now," the Bothan Ensign informed. Soto offered a slight bow of his head in gratitude, before waiting for the Commander to find his feet.

[Adonis Inirial]

Adonis' eyebrows climbed as the Bothan woman spoke. He'd noticed and noted the arrival of Captain Soto Terius of course, but there was nothing particularly significant or unexpected about that; at least, not enough of a something to be worth deviating his attention from the intelligence reports he was making sure to memorise before his meeting with the Bothan Senator this afternoon. Being detained on Moonus Mandel for an extra half-day was frustrating: he would have preferred to leave for Bothawui the previous night, to give him the time to prepare in the comfort of the officers' mess and arrive at the makeshift Senate building well-rested and in a fresh uniform. It could not be helped of course: if an Admiral requested your presence, you arrived with plenty of time to spare; especially when that Admiral was Vansen Tyree.

As Adonis gathered together his datapads and rose to his feet, a small smile at a private thought formed on his lips. He still remembered when the Admiral had been Uncle Vansen, and had been old enough at the time to notice how uncomfortable the honorific had made the old veteran. He'd never been sure if his father had been oblivious, hadn't cared, or took some amount of amusement in Tyree's discomfort at being considered part of the family, but the Inirial children had assaulted him with embraces, smiles, and hand-made cards just the same, every time the opportunity had presented. For Adonis, things were a little different: he'd had the opportunity during his days with the Imperial Navy to serve under Captain Tyree; he'd been a very different man back then, selfish, naive, and resentful of the opportunities that were thrust into his path. Tyree had corrected that malfunction, and been far more patient with Adonis than the younger man deserved. Whether he felt worthy of the honorific or not, Uncle he was, in all the ways that mattered.

Not that Adonis was foolish enough to call the Admiral that nowadays, of course. The two had served together since joining the Alliance, and both had changed profoundly; the loss of Alderaan, of Anpher, and of the Inirial family seemed to weigh as much on Tyree as it did on Adonis and his sister, and the Admiral had become more gruff and bitter than he had ever been as a Captain. The eye probably didn't help, though Adonis couldn't help thinking how cool the Inirial children would have thought the eyepatch was if he'd had it all those years ago.

In a few effortless strides of his long legs, Adonis abandoned the waiting area. "Captain," he greeted with a curt not, holding back a few paces in silent invitation for Soto Terius to enter first.

[Soto Terius]

"Commander," Soto responded in kind, fighting past the urge to insist that the questionably trustworthy intelligence officer walk in front. It wasn't anything personal; but here in Bothan Space, where espionage was as mundane a vocation as making shoes, Soto's sense of wariness had become hyperactive.

As Soto led the way through the door, it occurred to him that this was the first time he'd stepped inside the Admiral's office. He and the Admiral had always interacted via intermediaries in the past. They'd spoken, by hologram more often than not; and their rare face-to-face meetings had usually taken place in someone else's office, on someone else's ship. Neutral ground, Soto's subconscious helpfully offered. As if he wasn't already wary enough.

It wasn't a large office; not cluttered, not ostentatious. Soto respected that. It reminded him of the bridge of the Destiny in a way: simple, practical, spartan, but effective. From what he remembered from the briefing packet way back when, the facility on Moonus Mandel had been repurposed, a relatively minor Bothan outpost vastly expanded to become the headquarters for the Alliance's Fourth Fleet. It had been a decision born out of necessity: while the Fourth Fleet was responsible for defending the the capital and the Senate on Bothawui, the Bothan homeworld itself was such a vital hub for trade, commerce, and politics that the prospect of a fleet headquartered on the capital - and the devastating toll that would take on the fluidity of star traffic through Bothan orbit - was too daunting to even chance. It had been bad enough when Bothawui had been one of the Rebel Alliance's handful of protected worlds; the potential chaos could have been devastating for all involved.

Instead, the Fourth Fleet fielded a single Task Force within the Bothan system, for customs use and initial defense; the bulk of the fleet was here at Moonus Mandel, a short jump away, with outposts and squadrons at every other system within range. Bothawui had the illusion of being a minimally defended world from the heyday of the Republic, but the navy could swing closed like a durasteel trap on any sort of threat within a matter of minutes.

Rumour had it that the Corps of Engineers had offered to build a high tech new command facility on Moonus Mandel, but Admiral Tyree had declined; "a gods damned waste of duracrete" was his alleged protest. Instead, the command and logistics staff worked out of offices here in the old part of the complex, all of the base's other functions split between the ships in orbit, and a slowly growing spiral of new facilities being constructed around the circumference of the old.

Tyree's gaze rose from the desk in front of him, his eye studying his two visitors in turn. "Admiral," Soto offered in greeting, inadvertently speaking in chorus with the Commander.

[Vansen Tyree]

Vansen twitched an eyebrow in acknowledgement of their greeting. "Seats," he instructed, by way of a response.

As meetings went, this wasn't the most daunting of possibilities. Terius and Inirial were known quantities: officers he trusted, respected, and could rely on to have their heads screwed on right and not stored up their aft exhaust ports. True, it wasn't the kind of meeting like he might have had with General Breklin or Captain s'Ilancy, where he pulled open the other drawer of his desk and pulled out a bottle and two glasses; but he wouldn't need to overly explain himself, wouldn't have his instructions unnecessarily questioned, and wouldn't have to stand on pretense and ceremony the way he did whenever anyone self-important walked into his office.

"I'll keep this brief," he stated immediately, as the two officers settled down opposite. "Jovan Station is causing... problems. We have agitators on both sides of the border who are none too happy about where the Senate decided to put her, and the amount of Imperial activity on their side of the line has got some of the Senators on the Defense Oversight Committee a little anxious."

Vansen's attention shifted, his gaze turning to Adonis directly. "I had the Destiny deliver me to Jovan Station a few days ago, and had Captain Terius perform a -" Vansen's voice fumbled for the appropriate word. "- casual three-day patrol along the border proximate to the station. Analysis of holonet comms and mass shadows suggests as many as seventeen distinct Imperial signals within a concerning distance during that time, and those are just the ones we caught talking."

[Adonis Inirial]

Adonis paused for a moment before he responded, taking the time to ensure that he didn't seem earnest. "Yes sir, I'm aware: I collated the report on the Destiny's findings."

It wasn't an indignant response; wasn't meant to catch the Admiral out. Vansen was absolutely aware of that fact: he wouldn't have called on Adonis specifically if he wasn't. This was about establishing precedent, about ensuring that all three of them were equally aware, equally on the same page.

The Commander took the opportunity to elaborate a little further, to reinforce his status as intel's expert on this particular situation. "We know - or at least presume - that some of those signals belong to a squadron of Star Destroyers that made contact during the first few days of operation. The lead ship was the Decimator, commanded by Captain Rolth Wygraant. According to Commander Akiena's report -"

He hesitated, a quiet instant spent collating his thoughts and vocabulary. "Well sir, you know as well as I do that what Akiena says and what Akiena knows are often lightyears apart. What we can glean from what he did improve is that Wygraant is a fairly by-the-book sort of commander: he knows the rules, and he's a stickler for the specifics. He's the same commander that Captain s'Ilancy encountered on Manaan - whoever else the Empire has operating along the border, Wygraant is someone we definitely need to be keeping an eye on."

Adonis paused again, allowing a few seconds to pass while that information sank in. One of his flaws as others perceived them was a propensity to over-report, and bombard with information. To him, it was merely in the interests of being thorough; to others, he had learned, it often seemed like showing off. It was a fine and frustrating line that Adonis frequently found himself wrestling with; here though, he was relatively confident that his two superiors were familiar enough with him to appreciate the distinction.

"To that end, I submitted a proposal to the Strategies Office a few days ago. We've been looking to foster a greater level of cooperation between the various sovereign militaries and the Defense Forces, and I can't think of anyone more experienced and adapted to safeguarding borders than the Hapan Navy. It could be a prime opportunity to expand the level of joint operation at Jovan."

[Soto Terius]

Soto let out a grunt. More so than the Commander, he'd made himself comfortable in the chair that Admiral Tyree had invited him to sit in, reclining as much as it's design allowed him to, index fingers steepled and periodically drumming against his lips as he listened and contemplated Inirial's words.

"I wouldn't pin your hopes on the Hapans doing anything that doesn't serve their own self-interests, Commander," he observed, his voice emerging in a low, speculative rumble. It was a bit of an unfairly stereotypical viewpoint he supposed, and a little too conformal with the baseline prejudices of the Alliance at large. Back in the Rebellion days, it was Bothan self-interest that everyone scoffed at and rolled their eyes, minor frustration at the wheeling and dealing that the Bothans had done with the Empire to ensure that their world remained relatively unscathed by Imperial oppression for much of Palpatine's rule. It was logical and pragmatic, exactly as the Bothans were: but it was far easier and more satisfying to put a negative spin on it, and provide the masses with an amorphous entity to gripe harmlessly about and vent a little of their war-torn frustration.

Now the Hapans had taken their place, with a sense of isolation and xenophobia that made the Bothans seem open and hospitable. Everyone knew that Hapes was a major player, everyone knew that their Navy was not to be messed with, but the Hapans were far too cautious to share many of the specifics; the average Alliance citizen had no concept of how large the Hapan fleet was, and most regarded them as unfairly frugal with the amount of ships they had contributed to mutual defense. But then, what else did anyone expect? They'd spent Force-knows how long doing their utmost to keep absolutely everyone out of their precious Cluster. The habits of several lifetimes were hard to break.

"I'm a Corellian, and even I know how astronomically slim those odds are."

[Vansen Tyree]

"You won't get any argument from me," Vansen agreed, with a sage nod and a facial shrug. "On both counts. No one is pulling the amount of weight that they should be, and in the meantime the Empire has a galaxy's worth of starfleet tripping over each other patrolling their half."

It was the jarring dichotomy of the situation they had found themselves in. While the sovereign navies of several words, and a not-insignificant portion of the Imperial sector forces had made their way to the Alliance's banner, there were still plenty of ships and soldiers in Imperial uniforms floating out there amongst the stars, spoiling for a fight. In terms of sheer numbers, the Imperial military dwarfed the Alliance's to a laughable degree: but it didn't matter, because both sides stood with a loaded gun aimed at the other's head. Fleets and armies mattered little when mutually assured destruction was on the table; and for now at least, the Empire wasn't desperate enough to find out if the Alliance had it in them to decimate a key Imperial world in reprisal for encroaching on their new territory. With all his heart, Vansen hoped that no one would ever be stupid enough to try and find out if the Alliance was bluffing.

"Much as I would like to, however," the Admiral continued, "It's beyond my power to order the Hapans to get their head out of their asses. Worse, that stretch of border is outside my jurisdiction: Second Fleet is responsible for the space around Carshoulis and the Reach, but they're too preoccupied with keeping Dac secure, and making sure the Tion Cluster is locked up tight."

His mouth drew into a thin line. "All I can do is make excuses to allocate a few extra resources to Jovan; which is why effective immediately, I'm assigning you, Commander Inirial, to serve as our intelligence officer at Jovan Station. You'll continue to monitor and report on the the situation along the border, as well as coordinating with all the represented militaries to share intelligence and devise a joint border patrol strategy. I'll also be assigning the Destiny to accompany you, to deploy at your discretion."

[Adonis Inirial]

Whatever suppositions Adonis might have made about this meeting, none of them would have included this eventuality. There was a definite logic to it: instead of monitoring the intelligence-gathering efforts from a distance, being on-site would rapidly reduce the latency between information being gathered and processed, and if anyone was going to monitor the intelligence situation out of Jovan, it made sense that it be one of the officers already doing so from the comfort of Bothan Space.

That it was Vansen making this decision though, and not someone from within the Office of Fleet Intelligence was somewhat surprising. Adonis had been assigned by them to Vansen's chain of command, and the Admiral was of course at total liberty to allocate his officers however he saw fit, but ever since their paths had re-crossed after both had joined the Alliance, the Admiral had made consistent efforts to keep Adonis close; the same efforts that he'd made with Carré as well. Now suddenly, Vansen was sending Adonis about as far away as it was possible to get. Why? Was this a form of nepotism, an opportunity made available to Adonis because of the relationship Vansen had shared with his father and family? Had Vansen seen himself as a mentor and Adonis as his protege, the same way that Adonis himself regarded their relationship, and had he reached the point where he decided there was no more to teach? Was this an opportunity for advancement that Vansen felt himself unable to deprive his pseudo-nephew of; or the opposite, some demotion in Vansen's eyes for some sleight or mistake that Adonis couldn't fathom? Was this a reprimand for not having discovered Dan Thule's true intentions soon enough? Did Vansen no longer trust his judgement so close to home?

So many possibilities flashed through Adonis' mind in the blink of an eye, but he ignored all of them, fixating instead on more tangible points of logic. "As beneficial as Captain Terius and the Destiny would be," he protested politely, meaning the compliment at face value, "Surely there are other assignments better suited to the Captain's talents and record than a one-ship border patrol."

[Vansen Tyree]

"Indeed there are," the Admiral agreed, nodding along to Adonis' point.

He wasn't oblivious to the momentary wave of internal conflict that had subtly swept across the Commander's features. For all his confidence, competence, and professionalism, Vansen still saw the insecure young officer he'd known more than a decade ago: the boy burdened by a name and legacy, with nothing and yet everything to prove; the second son, thrust by tragedy into patriarchship of a near-extinct Alderaani noble house, a role for which he was never for even the briefest moment prepared. Vansen glimpsed the questions and the worry, and also how lightning-fast they were subdued; and he wrestled with his responsibilities to the man, not just his colleague and subordinate, but also a friend, and one of the closest things to family that Vansen possessed. There would be time to reassure him later, though: the hyperspace transit to Jovan would be long enough that Vansen could take his time over a message, and have it there waiting for Adonis by the time he arrived to take office.

For now, there were other matters to address. Damn Adonis and his ability to push past personal feelings and stay on-mission. Vansen had taught him that. He wondered if the odd sensation tingling it's way through his chest was pride.

"- which is why the Destiny will be accompanying you, but Captain Terius will not."

[Soto Terius]

It was Soto's turn to look surprised, deep wrinkles carving into the dark skin of his forehead as his eyebrow rose. He'd been wondering where he fit into this entire situation, and for a brief moment he'd dreaded the notion that it really was another taxi run, with the intelligence Commander as the chosen passenger. As the Admiral had spoken his explanation though, it was as if his mind was a tavern, and all had fallen eerily silent as an Imperial officer stepped through the doors.

"Sir?" he queried, knowing it wasn't really necessary to elaborate any more than that.

He'd been labouring under the notion that the Destiny's mediocre assignments of late were some penance for unwittingly following the orders of a traitor for so long; a simple matter of Fleet Command having lost faith in his judgement. It wouldn't have felt misplaced if it were true, he'd been questioning his judgement just as sincerely. If this reassignment would free his crew from suffering his penance then so be it; but if so, just how much of the equally shared blame did the Alliance plan to insist that he personally shoulder.

"If this is about the General -"

[Vansen Tyree]

Vansen cut him off before that seed of thought had the opportunity to take root.

"Dan Thule fooled a lot of people, Captain. He fooled people a lot older, wiser, and higher up the chain of command than you, and for a lot longer than you ever had contact with him. That is what the dark side does: it obscures, and confounds. It's happened before, and the last time the Galactic Senate and the entire Jedi Order were oblivious to it; and unless someone finds some magic off-switch for the Force, odds are it'll happen again one of these days."

He sat back in his chair, his eyebrows raising and his head cocking to the side in a shrug that his shoulders didn't take part in. "Now the Senate can sit around on their fat asses and ascribe blame until the nerfs come home, but that's not my job. That's not what they pay me for, and it's not what I signed on for. My one job - one job - is to make sure we've got the best people doing the best they can to keep this Alliance safe from harm."

His gaze intensified, his voice taking on a determined edge, almost as if he was daring the two of them to continue protesting. "For right now, that means Commander Inirial on the Destiny at Jovan Station, and you -"

The Admiral trailed off, another quirk gracing his lips that anyone who didn't know him better would surely have mistaken for a smile. "Like the Commander said already, there are other assignments better suited to your skills. But that's a whole other briefing of it's own."

Vansen shifted in his seat: this meeting had already run it's course as far as he was concerned, and he had no intention of suffering this aborted discussion any longer. He made a show of rearranging the pads and flimsi sheets on his desk as if he no longer needed them, even though none of them had any relevance to this particular meeting. "Your objection is noted, Commander, and summarily ignored. Accept the promotion, pack your things -"

An intense one-eyed glare fixed Adonis with all the piercing potential of an active lightsaber. "- and Force help me, if I find out you slunk off to Jovan without saying a proper goodbye to your sister, I will fly out there and toss you out an airlock myself." Vansen didn't flinch, maintaining the glare to instill a genuine sense of sincerity in Adonis. "You have your orders, and you're dismissed, Commander."

[Adonis Inirial]

Adonis was on his feet and at attention faster than a raw recruit caught doing something he shouldn't be. There had been no scathing harshness to the Admiral's words, and yet hearing Uncle Vansen dismiss his input - and him - in such a way had his mind reeling. It didn't hurt, or irk him; it was more like a bop on the nose of a disobedient canine, but all the same Commander Inirial felt thoroughly put in his place.

"Admiral," he said with a curt and formal nod, force of will the only thing stopping the insistent urge to throw a salute. The Admiral may have rattled him, but Adonis wouldn't give him the satisfaction of being that rattled. He hesitated for a moment, head glancing to the side momentarily to offer a more polite and gentle "Captain," to Soto Terius, before he sidestepped from his seat and set a course for the exit, silently grateful to whatever aspect of the Force was responsible for the long gait that allowed him to escape swiftly without seeming like he was in a rush.

He came to a halt as the door hissed closed behind him, and unleashed a sigh that slumped his shoulders. His fingers fidgeted his datapads together into the grip of one hand, the other rising to pinch the bridge of his known. Urgent reassignment to the other side of the Alliance, completely out of the blue. This wasn't how it was supposed to work. They were civilized now, they had protocols and procedures. This mandatory reassignment business was Rebellion antics, unbefitting the newly minted Alliance of Free Planets. It couldn't have come at a worse time either: right when he was finally beginning to feel settled, right when he and Carré were rebuilding the bridges that he'd neglected, right when she was -

"Sir? Is everything alright?"

Adonis' eyes snapped up, settling on the Ensign that he'd entirely forgotten would be out here in the foyer waiting for him. With all the effort he could muster, he adjusted his features into a polite smile. "Fine," he insisted, hoping it seemed more convincing to the Ensign than it was to himself. A moment of thought passed, bringing a frown with it in it's wake. "I'm going to need you to arrange an in-system shuttle for me, Ensign, up to the Challenger. Also -"

The smile became a little more genuine. "- if you could contact Senator Oruo'rel's office and inform him that I will be unable to attend our meeting this afternoon, I'd appreciate it. Let him know that if he requires an explanation, he'll need to contact the Admiral directly."

[Vansen Tyree]

With Adonis removed from the equation, Vansen was able to turn his full attention to Captain Terius. To his credit, the Corellian waited patiently for the Admiral to elaborate, but Vansen could feel the bristling frustration beneath the man's stoic expression.

For a moment, he wondered if this was the best way to have handled things. The two nuna with one stone technique had it's merits, and Vansen was most definitely a fan of getting his confrontations out of the way as swiftly and decisively as possible, but there was more nuance to these dealings, these pseudo-political acts of military command and bureaucracy, and it was something that Vansen had yet to acquire a proper talent for. It was why he relished and appreciated the presence of Taataani Meorrrei in so many of his dealings of late: she was far better equipped for the subtleties of these kind of situations, and with her playing the proverbial good cop - or at the very least, polite and tactful cop - it provided Vansen with far more freedom to be himself. For an idle moment, he found himself wondering how Taataani would have handled this situation; separately he supposed, staggered perhaps, so that it was abundantly clear to Terius that his new assignment constituted a promotion, and so that Adonis was left feeling that he had been transferred into an extant void rather than one that had been forcibly vacated for him. No doubt Taataani was far more practiced at dealing with the complexities that came when family and subordinates overlapped; Adonis wasn't his son, but he was about as close as Vansen was likely to get at this late stage in his life. He'd have to remember to steer the conversation in that direction next time he had the opportunity to speak to her alone: perhaps there was something useful he could learn about the way she interacted with T'yeellaa.

Pushing those thoughts aside, he settled himself back in his chair, and let his fingers lace themselves together across his stomach. "Tell me, Captain," he said, with the faintest hint of a smirk. "Have you ever been to Sluis Van?"

[Carré Inirial]

* * * * *


It was, in no uncertain terms, an office. A very tiny office that barely had the space for the desk, chair, and cabinet it contained. How it was supposed to also accommodate a very cranky and pregnant lieutenant in addition to all that furniture was a mystery that had no explanation as of yet.

Felt more like a prison than anything else, even more than the holding cell had when she'd first arrived to the Wheel and the Rebellion what felt like a lifetime ago. Carré let out a noisy sigh of frustration as she dropped into her chair and sat staring at the pile of documents that needed her immediate attention. Schedules, rosters, supply lists, CAP assignments to distribute...things that needed to get done for the Alliance Starfighter Corps to operate smoothly.

Things someone accustomed to the freedom of a cockpit did not want to be doing. She was only just getting accustomed to the idea of being pregnant when she'd realized it would mean the end to her flying days. No more missions, no more banter with her wingman, no more bickering over the comm system, no more patrols.

Nothing.

No flying.

At. All.

So she sat marooned in a little tin box and pressed a hand to her still-flat abdomen. "I am happy you're in there, I promise. Still getting used to it, is all." she added softly, her free hand wiping at her eyes. Reaching for a tissue, she sighed again and scooted a little closer to her desk. A warm cup of herbal tea sat off to the side of her paperwork, the floral scent twining around that of the honey that had been generously added. Real honey...she supposed that was a perk of being pregnant, the spontaneous gift of something she'd had to simply do without for so long.

"Pretty sure I'm going to drive your father up a wall with weird demands until you're ready to come out. Feel like getting started early? What weird thing should we be craving today?" Carré asked as she pulled the first flimsiplast to her fingers and delved into her work at last.

[Adonis Inirial]

It felt strange being back here. The Challenger had never quite been home for him: his time aboard had been too short-lived, and too frequently interrupted by stints of duty elsewhere. A cabin aboard was allocated for him whenever he required it, and that had become familiar enough for him to fall asleep without disruption, but being here - even for weeks at a time, or longer - had still always managed to feel like a visit. It never felt permanent.

It all seemed obvious the more he thought about it: this wasn't his home, it was Carré's, and every time it was here he felt as if he was waiting awkwardly for his welcome to wear out.

He didn't expect it to, not exactly. Things between him and Carré were probably the best they had ever been; the most stable, at least. Given their age difference, and his commitments to the Imperial Academy when she was young, he probably saw her more frequently now than he ever had when they were growing up. It was less an expectation, and more a persistent worry. He wasn't anxious about losing yet more family, terrifying a prospect as that was to entertain; he just always found himself expecting not to stay, expecting reassignment or distance or other commitments to inevitably come along, and so he never truly allowed himself to settle. He supposed that he'd been right: thanks to Admiral Tyree, the time had come to drift somewhere new yet again.

Normally it didn't bother him. That was the job. That was the life. That was the contract he'd entered into when he'd put on the uniform for the first time. Now though? Carré was all he had left; or at least, she was for the next nine months or there abouts. Adonis was a second son, and he'd never expected to be important as far as family was concerned, but now there were roles and responsibilities beyond career and duty, and it was proving more of a cognitive struggle than seemed logical.

He faltered as he reached the door of Carré's office; almost stretched out a hand to knock on the door. Strange habit. Old habit. Comfortable habit. This is what you did when you approached your sister's room, wanting to talk to her. He forced his hand to lower, reaching out for the chime. Let out a breath. Pressed.

[Carré Inirial]

"Oh for pity's sake, the squadrons cannot possibly need that many power couplings anymore...." Carré muttered, pressing the button on the comm panel beside her. "Ensign, patch me through to Engineer Rolfson, would you?"

"Putting it through now, Lieutenant." the crisp, efficient voice replied.

"Thank you."

"Hey there, Ell-Tee! To what do I owe the pleasure?" Eileen chimed in a few moments later after the clicks sounded and the channel opened.

"Hey Eileen...listen, I've got the squadron requisitions on my desk and this power coupling request seems a little high. Twelve crates? Really?"

"Yeah, I knew that was going to seem high. But we replaced nearly all of them within the last two months and it wiped out our stock and most of the emergency stash as well. So it's going to replace all of that."

"Ahh...that makes sense. If you don't mind, make a note or two on things with larger quantities like that. Save me a little sanity going forward."

"Consider it done. Been meaning to come up for a visit, but I've been swamped. How are you feeling? Is the tea helping?"

Taking a sip, Carré smiled and wrapped her fingers around the warm mug. "It really has...thank you again for it. Send me the info so I can order more, would you?"

"Will do, Carré. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've gotta get back to this engine rebuild. Rolfson out."

Adding her signature to the flimsiplast and setting it on the completed pile, she sat back with her tea and took another sip. Eileen had been quite a wonderful resource the last few weeks, a veritable treasure trove of information on being pregnant and how to manage the crazy things her body was already beginning to put her through. The chime of her door sounded, and she called out "Enter" as she sat up a little straighter while it whooshed open to admit her brother.

"Donny! This is a surprise...what are you doing in my neck of the woods?" she said brightly, setting her cup down and rising from her seat for a hug.

[Adonis Inirial]

Adonis advanced gingerly towards the oncoming embrace, carefully lowering himself down to Carré's level and putting his arms around her with the utmost caution. The wasn't that pregnant, not visibly so at least, but better safe than sorry. No use getting carried away and squishing his niece or nephew out of existence before he had the opportunity to find out which it was.

He allowed the embrace to continue longer than normal though; not so much that it became weird, but certainly enough to let it transition from polite and friendly into genuinely affectionate. When he finally drew back, his face adopted an easy, lopsided grin. Commander Inirial was left abandoned out in the corridor, ready to be collected when he left; brother was the only baggage he'd allowed himself to bring inside.

"Eh," he replied, two quick brushes across the tip of his nose with the crook of his finger, a slight wrinkle of his nostrils to dislodge the minor itch that was irritating his attention. "Kind of a long story," he admitted; a half truth, really. There wasn't anything long about it particularly, not anything that couldn't be explained in a couple of sentences; but certainly not something to use in the opening salvo of conversation.

Something shifted in his expression, the grin amplified a little. "Hope you're hungry," he commented, the contents of his hands rusting as he held it aloft. Okay then, there were [i]two[i] sets of baggage he'd allowed himself to bring inside, but this one was special: it contained sandwiches. "I brought lunch. And don't worry: I called Kelly. There's nothing in here that'll have you puking your guts out."

His smile faltered. "...I hope."

[Carré Inirial]

She sighed happily and leaned into the hug, savoring the warmth and closeness it brought. It was good, she mused distantly, and definitely spoke to the closeness the two siblings had managed to attain in this stage of their lives. His grin was met with one of her own and she tilted her head to the side as they parted and the door whooshed closed behind them.

"Long story, huh? Well, I've got time...stars know you'll be a great distraction from this blasted paperwork. How people manage dealing with it is beyond me...it's driving me crazy." she smiled sheepishly, nodding towards the pile.

Emerald eyes grew wide at the bag in his hands and the promise of sandwiches. "I'm starved...and if Kelly said it was alright, then I'm sure it is. He's entirely too excited about this, really. " Moving her cup aside, she straightened out the pile of work on her desk and stashed it away in the small cabinet temporarily, leaving them the desk to dine on.

Carré gestured toward the spare chair and sat back down in her own, scooting forward in it. A hand pressed to her abdomen and she whispered mostly under her breath, "You're going to let me eat, right? I'd appreciate it."

[Adonis Inirial]

Adonis wasn't entirely sure that speaking to an unborn and barely developed fetus qualified as sanity, but he wisely kept his tongue silent, and kept the smile firmly in place on his features.

A memory flashed through his mind; a rare recollection of his father, one of the few private moments he was aware of sharing with him without uniforms and other siblings getting in the way. Anpher Inirial had been weary, and had fled whatever has caused it, retreating to the relative safety of one of the libraries at House Inirial's estate back on Alderaan. There, Adonis had already cloistered himself, surrounded on all sides by books. It had begun as a simple query; one that any other child might have sought an answer to by consulting the holonet, or asking the nearest available droid. In an effort to encourage their children to spend more time becoming cultured and reading hardcopy however, Anpher and his wife had restricted access to the computer systems outside of certain hours of the day. If you wanted to know something badly enough, you had two choices: exercise patience, and wait until your next approved opportunity to browse; or go to the library and open a book. Perhaps it was just part and parcel of the archaic traditions that so many Alderaani nobles clung to. Perhaps they merely thought that by making their children flip through books, there was a chance that they might accidentally learn something else along the way.

Most of Adonis' siblings were of the patient persuasion, and would simply wait until answers could be conveniently obtained. Adonis' curiosity was too insistent for that, and so he could regularly be found here, up to his eyeballs in literature. Often he stayed so long he fell asleep amongst the dusty pages, though he never seemed to wake here. It was a mystery he hadn't ever set his mind to resolving.

That one day in particular though, he'd found something more than just knowledge in the library. As Anpher had let the manual hinged doors click closed behind him, and slumped against them in relief, his eyes had settled upon his second son, and Adonis had seen something that he couldn't remember having ever seen before or since. There was pride in the old Admiral's eyes, and whatever fatigue and frustration had been plaguing him fell away as a smile tugged it's way onto his bearded jaw. In that library, they were simply father and son, and nothing else seemed to matter at all. It was then that Anpher had offered a piece of advice: one that seemed all too relevant now.

Never get on the bad side of an Inirial woman, son. Not when she's tired, and especially not when she was pregnant.

Adonis' smile faltered, not because it was slipping, but because a different kind of more modest but more genuine smile was pushing it's way onto his lips. The pregnancy in question had been Carré, the youngest of the Inirial children, and the only one that Anpher had been old enough to properly remember and understand. His expression softened as he regarded his sister, absently muttering to her as yet invisible bump.

A flicker of sadness tugged at his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Rey. I've been reassigned."

[Carré Inirial]

A bit of warmth flushed her cheeks as she glanced up, and suddenly realized that she hadn't murmured as quietly as she thought. Fingers rose to toy with the paper wrapper of the sandwich in front of her, smoothing it out and neatly folding it in lieu of a plate. Plucking a napkin from the pile, she placed it across her lap and reached for her tea when Adonis finally spoke once more.

The breath felt like it simply slipped right out of her. Emerald eyes blinked sightlessly until Adonis' face came back into a wavering focus. Her gaze misted over a bit but she ignored it and managed to utter a breathless "What?" in response. A simple word, fraught with far more emotion than she would normally have allowed herself to display.

"Why?" she added a moment later, appetite suddenly gone as she instead stared down at the hands laying in her lap.

It wasn't Carré's most eloquent moment, but newly-pregnant and desk-bound overrode normal protocol in every way, shape and form. It felt like everyone was slipping away, as the Alliance redistributed it's people to best serve it's new structure. Which, she understood on some deep level. She just hadn't managed to bring reason and thought to the forefront as of late.

[Adonis Inirial]

Because orders are orders.

That was the answer that most readily came to mind, and for Adonis it was entirely sufficient. It was part and parcel of the contract you made when you put on the uniform: bed, board, and other benefits in exchange for a little bravery and obedience. But Carré wasn't the same. Not disobedient per se, she was just the sort of person who had questions; the sort who expected reasons. Adonis wasn't devoid of that; but in his line of work, he'd learned that reasons were seldom given directly, and you often had to discover or otherwise determine them for yourself. Truth be told, that Admiral Tyree had gone to the lengths of explaining as much as he did was something of a rare blessing: usually Alliance Intel instructed him to jump, and he didn't find out how high until he got there.

He let out a small sigh, shifting far enough into the room to perch on the corner of Carré's desk. He knew that she would remain standing as long as he did, and keeping a pregnant woman on her feet hardly seemed like a smart plan.

"Uncle Vansen needs me," he began. He almost didn't mention the Admiral by name; almost tried to shield the man from any reprisals that the emotionally volatile Alderaanian baby carrier before him might wish to inflict. But it was important. That one name, and all the baggage that went along with it, reinforced just how vital his obedience was in this case. Vansen Tyree would not have ordered him across the galaxy on a whim; he wouldn't have dragged one Inirial away from the other unless he felt there was little other choice. "There's some unrest along the border, and, well -"

Adonis trailed off, and managed a smile. "He's a little short on eyes lately, so he needs me to keep mine on the situation. It's nothing dangerous, nothing risky. It's just -"

Another fade into silence. Another pause.

"- far."

[Carré Inirial]

"Oh."

She frowned slightly, sitting abruptly and rather heavily in her chair. She reached over absently to pat Adonis' knee and gave a faint sigh.

"Well...I...can't promise I won't yell at him at some point over it, but I understand. If he needs you, then its important and he needs to know he can implicitly trust whomever he's sending. Just wish...it wasn't so far." Carré added, blinking as she stared down at her hands that had come to rest over her abdomen once more.

Casting her emerald gaze up at his dark eyes, she did her level best to find some semblance of a smile. It wasn't working, but she was trying. "When do you leave?"

[Adonis Inirial]

"Soon."

His brow tugged into a frown, sadness tugging down on the edges. "They gave me a ship for this assignment. I'm taking over from Soto Terius aboard the Destiny. There's still a few reassignments to be taken care of, and they're transferring across supplies meant for the outpost where I'll be based, to save a freighter from needing to make the trip - but yeah. It'll be soon. I need to report aboard and assume command before the end of the day, and we'll probably be in hyperspace by first thing tomorrow."

He fell silent. Adonis was not an expert on taking, but he seldom struggled either. Usually, he knew exactly what to say because he had considered every eventuality in advance, but this? This wasn't an intelligence briefing, or a meeting with a Senator or an Admiral where he could predict every question and have a response prepared. This wasn't an interview or interrogation where he knew exactly what the subject would say, provided he could motivate them into it. This wasn't his familiar terrain. This wasn't clinical or detached. This was Carré, and Adonis found himself utterly at a loss for words.

"I'm sorry, Rey."

It seemed to feeble, so insufficient. After all their years apart, all their differences and distance, both had vowed to be closer, to make the most of the family they had left. To his credit, Adonis had really tried. The effort perhaps wasn't as spontaneous as it should have been - being there for you and blocking off swathes of his work schedule to spend time with his sister weren't quite the same thing, but it was the best he was capable of. Carving out 47 minutes in the middle of his schedule, coordinated with when Carré seemed most likely to leave her office for lunch, so that he could "accidentally" meet her in the corridor and invite her to a spontaneous lunch; calling in favours to nudge around meetings so that he could pretend he was grudgingly forced to stay overnight, or frustratingly found himself with a patch of dead time in the middle of his day so that he could enlist his sister's aid in staving off his boredom. It wasn't how it was supposed to work, but it was the closest approximation that he was capable of.

Now though? All that effort undermined because the job had other ideas, and the Alliance had other needs of him.

"I really wanted to be here for you," he offered, with far more tiredness and less confidence in his voice than usual. His eyes didn't manage to meet with hers, settling on her abdomen. "And be here when -"

[Carré Inirial]

She could feel the tears stinging her eyes, clouding her emerald gaze with the weight of duty versus the need of family. Carré knew that feeling all too well, remembering the years she'd spent at Carida and the familial milestones she'd been forced to miss. Then, she'd consoled herself with the fact that she was following the family tradition and that she could make up for it afterwards. Except, there had been no afterwards, and she'd spent a very long time thinking she was the only one left.

But she wasn't, anymore, and they had both done their level best to maintain their relationship and improve on it where and when they could. This was a milestone she was already terrified of, and had wanted him there to share it with her. Carré took a deep breath and dropped her gaze to her hands, pressing them gently against her abdomen before lifting one up to wipe at the stray tears that eluded her efforts at containment.

She found a faint smile but didn't look up as she shook her head. "It's alright, Donny...I'll just...inundate you with messages and updates on his progress. And really, given how crazy I'm sure I'll drive Kelly, you probably don't really want to be subjected to that. I mean, I'm kinda cranky on a good day, right?"

Swallowing hard, she reached for the tissues she kept nearby, plucking a few from the box to wipe at her eyes. "But I'll miss you." she whispered after a moment, blinking, and wiping at her eyes a bit more intently.

[Adonis Inirial]

There was no thought, no contemplation, only impulse as Adonis stepped forward and bundled his sister in his arms. It wasn't an entirely benevolent action: the sight of her with tears in her eyes was agonizing and the sooner he could avoid seeing it the better; but he squeezed her just the same, marveling at the fact that no matter of old they became, an embrace like this felt no different from any other time he'd squidged his baby sister in his arms.

"Are you kidding?" he counted quietly, fumbling for anything to say that made the slightest bit of difference. "I'm an intelligence officer. I've pretty much been one since I was too years old. Knowing things isn't just my job, it's a need, so if you think that a day is going to go past where there won't be a holoprojection of me in your office, prying for every tiny detail about how you're doing, calling in every favour I can to get your obscure cravings shipped to you from half way across the galaxy, asking every question I can think of about how he... he -"

Adonis stopped, as the pronoun caught on his tongue. It was the one that Carré had used, and so he had instinctively followed suit, but -

He drew away, not enough to free his sister from his arms, but enough to peer down at her and find her eyes. "He?" he echoed. His own gaze began to shimmer as the gravity of that situation began to settle in. It wouldn't have made the damnedest bit of difference, he would still have adored and doted upon the little tyke just the same if it had been a daughter nestled down there in his sister's abdomen, but a son? A new generation of the Inirial family, a new eldest son to carry the name beyond the span of Adonis' life, a new heir to whom Adonis was not merely an uncle, but also his predecessor as head of the household? There was gravity to that, and as misplaced and gender-biased as it might be, Adonis felt it just the same.

"I'm going to have a nephew?"

[Carré Inirial]

There was a tightness of emotion centered in her chest, an ache for things long gone as Adonis simply gathered her up into his arms. She burrowed into his chest and had flashbacks of being a little girl finding solace in her big brother's embrace. It was a sense of comfort and safety...of family...that she had been wanting since she'd gotten the news of her pregnancy. Not that Kelly wasn't enough of those things, because he truly was, but there was something to be said for the comfort of a sibling.

"He." Carré nodded, warmth and pleasure lighting her features as she gazed up at Adonis, her mood lightening and the ache in her chest slowly dissipating.

""You are...Tadel Anpher Inirial-Perris." she freed one hand and pressed it against her abdomen as she pulled back a bit. "Named after Kelly's father as well as ours. I couldn't see not giving him our surname as well...in fact, I'm hyphenating mine when the time comes. I just...couldn't let that go. Not after everything."

[Adonis Inirial]

After everything.

She said it as if it were some complex list, some indescribable cacophony of misfortune that couldn't be put into words. In truth, it only required one: loss. Loss of home. Loss of family. Loss of history. Loss of hope. Everything that they had ever been, and everything that they were supposed to be, now existed as atoms swirling around amongst the asteroid remains of Alderaan. Every ancestor's buried bones, every antique and heirloom displayed so proudly in House Inirial, every story and hologram chronicled in the family archives; all lost, all gone. The Noble Houses of Alderaan were more than just bricks and mortar: they were traditions, memories, lessons, an ongoing future built on top of everything that had come before. For House Inirial, that noble past lived on only in Adonis and Carré; and it was Adonis' duty as patriarch to ensure that it lived on beyond.

Tadel. He took a step forward, gently resting his hand atop Carré's, a faint and sad smile gracing his lips. "It will be Lord Inirial-Perris one day," he said softly, before abandoning his gesture of contact and pulling his sister into his arms again. "And I promise, no matter what happens or where the Alliance sends me, I will always be here to teach him what that means."

[Carré Inirial]

She gave up on the pretense of keeping it together in any semblance of proper manner. Carré flung her arms around Adonis and held onto him tightly, face pressed against his shoulder the way it always had been when she'd been a child. A soft sigh emerged from her lips as she tilted her head back enough to look up.

"I wouldn't have it any other way." she said quietly, blinking back a fresh set of tears and freeing herself enough to reach for a tissue. Rather, a few tissues. This was proving to be more than she could manage to deal with and still remain tear-free.

"Gods, look at me, I'm a wreck. I'll be useless for the rest of the day..." she fussed with the tissues and then her uniform in turn as the siblings eventually pulled apart. Glancing up at the chrono on the wall of her office she sighed faintly after her voice had trailed off.

Reaching up, she kissed his cheek and carefully smoothed out the lapel of his uniform. "...Donny, I don't think I'm going to be able to eat anytime soon. And you...you should probably get going before Uncle Vansen finds something else for you to be doing. I love you...and I'll miss you. Be safe, please."

[Adonis Inirial]

Get going.

Even knowing the reasons and the context, those words still stung. They weren't intended to, weren't meant to be anything but understanding and supportive; even so, Carré's surrender and resignation just wasn't even close to what he had expected. There had been a glimmer of tears, true enough, but the understanding had come without the outrage. There was no challenge, no protest, just quiet acceptance of a truth that Carré accepted because she knew she couldn't change it. It was the way he would have expected himself to react, but not little Rey. Not his emotional little sister who wore her heart on his sleeve. Perhaps the Alliance, the war, the loss, the baby, or some other factor had changed her, changed the woman that she had become. Perhaps she was just hiding it for his sake.

He nodded slowly; there really wasn't anything to do but follow her gently issued orders. "Just because I have gone," he said quietly, placing a gentle kiss against his baby sister's forehead, trying his utmost to ensure that his last words in person to her - for a little while, at least - were words worth remembering. "Don't ever forget that I will always be here."

A struggled smile, a gentle squeeze of her hand as he drew away, and without another word he paced backwards towards the door, his eyes lingering on his sister until the very last moment before he wrenched them away and disappeared into the corridor.

[Oisin Ocasta]

* * *

"Is that all of it?"

Oisin couldn't think of a time when he'd wished harder that the answer would be no. Anything, to buy himself a few more minutes before needing to say goodbye, before watching them disappear through the airlock, before having to stop the weirdly pleasant way that carrying Brianne for fifteen straight minutes had made his arm begin to ache. It was stupid, really: Chrys was just a friend, and he was just a guy who had been making use of all the downtime he'd had since the war ended to help out with a little babysitting here and there. But since Alderaan, those little things had meant more; they'd expanded to fill the void that all that loss had left behind. In the last few years, the Challenger, Rogue Squadron, and the Atreides ladies had become his home. But the war was over. The Challenger was stuck in orbit. The Rogues were all dispersing, some gone on principle; others promoted out of the cockpit to places where they were more valuable.

And now his girls were about to leave; a few hours time, and they'd be half a galaxy away.

It was the smart call, Oisin knew that. During the height of the Rebellion, in amongst the Galactic Civil War, times had been desperate. You took whatever help you could get, and you made whatever accommodations you needed to. Rogue Squadron and the Challenger needed a mechanic with the skills Chrys had, and so they accommodated her adorable little snot machines being aboard. That was Rebellion life. This was the Alliance of Free Planets though, and now suddenly it wasn't appropriate to have family aboard a warship - even if there was no actual war for said warship to fight. Jovan Station was the best assignment that Chrys could get: somewhere she could still get her hands dirty, still get up to her elbows in the guts of starships and starfighters, but where her children were a little more welcome than they now were here.

To his credit, Admiral Tyree had fought the ruling tooth and nail, but Alliance Personnel was insistent; so here they were. At least he'd managed to snag an extra hour or so, helping to unload the Atreides from the freighter they were supposed to be on to some swanky starship that was apparently making the run to Jovan Station instead. At least they were riding out there in style.

"You need me to do anythin' else?"

[Chrys Atreides]

"That's...everything."

She said softly, blinking as she forced herself to concentrate on the list flickering up at her from the datapad in her hand. There was only a few crates of personal belongings, packed neatly and with all the efficiency Chrys had been able to muster in the last few days. Admiral Tyree had done everything in his power to keep her where she was, where her girls were comfortable and where she was needed with her mechanical skills. It had become a home more than any other, and the only one the twins had known, considering how little they could recall Lorrd. It was a blessing in that respect, really.

As a Chief Mechanic in the Alliance hierarchy, she understood the move. There were things that were simply accepted while in war-time that were not otherwise to be tolerated. But as a mother, it tore at her heart to have to uproot her children from the only place they'd been happy. From the people they'd come to love and depend upon.

Chrys finally gave up checking the list and switched the datapad off before dropping it into the open bag at her feet, fingers absently smoothing out her sweater (http://www.polyvore.com/chrys_musical_chairs/set?id=178137615). Emma clung to her leg, her lower lip quivering as she stared up at Brianne, who was quietly ensconced in her very favorite place, tiny face buried in Oisin's shoulder. Her fingers rested on Emma's mussed curls, murmuring softly to her for a moment before she took a deep breath and glanced up.

Clouded blue eyes searched Oisin's features, her own fraught with a myriad of unnamed thoughts and emotions. She found a smile, though, lips curling softly upwards. She wanted to ask him to come with them, but even lightly said those words held a deeper meaning than she was ready to admit just then. She gently shook her head and shifted forward, gently reaching out to take a very unwilling Brianne from his arms, even as Emma flung herself forward and latched onto his legs instead of her mother's.

"I can't think of anything else..." she replied a moment later, blinking as her voice trailed off, unable to even crack the familiar joke of his forgetting the small child repellent again. "...but you have to promise to come visit as soon as you can. The little monsters won't be happy until you do."

...and neither will I.

[Oisin Ocasta]

Oisin had met people with all manner of limbs missing, replaced with prosthetics and what-not, but he was willing to bet all that hurt less than the feeling of Brianne being lifted out of his arms. Emma's mynock latch onto his legs made it worse somehow.

His mind chastised him for getting so sentimental. Sure, he wasn't exactly the most macho of guys. There were movies he could only watch when he was alone. Music he had to strategically frown during to stop his eyes from watering. He was the kind of guy you did more harm to with a few careless words than with a fist. Wouldn't have been the first time he'd ascribed some extra significance to something, and let it get the best of him. But this was a whole new tier of ridiculous in that regard. Here he was loading a friend and her kids onto a ship; and yet inside it felt as if his family was being torn away.

Aren't they, though?

He supposed they were in a way - the closest thing he had to one, at least. He'd wandered around the Challenger with bodily fluids from two of the three ladies on his flight suit before now. Not the fun kind, granted; but the kind that you didn't get exposed to when stuff didn't matter. He'd been there for some of their firsts. He'd shared experiences with them that no one ever had. He'd spent nights curled up on the floor in their room, ready to protect them from whatever was causing the rattling noise in the air vents. He was their friend, as much as an adult could be to a child; and they said that friends were just the family you choose for yourself; so was it really a step too far to think of them that way?

I'm losing my family. Again.

"First chance I get," he promised, keeping his eyes aimed down to avoid Chrys seeing anything she wasn't supposed to.

Emma provided a useful distraction on that regard. Carefully he liberated himself enough to drop into a crouch, bringing himself as close to the young girl's eye level as he could manage. "I need you to do somethin' for me," he said quietly, nudging the crook of his finger against Emma's grumpily frowning face. "I'm gonna need you to look after your mommy and your sister for me, okay? And I'm gonna need status reports. You're gonna have to comm me every few days to let me know that everything is okay. Think you can do that for me?"

[Chrys Atreides]

It was happening too fast, this last hour. Lifter droids came and carried their crates into the cargo hold of the ship, a tiny, steady procession that ended with a cargo claim slip tucked into her bag with trembling fingers. She needed more time, but it was rapidly running out. Blinking, she held a sniffling Brianne in one arm and gently closed her bag. Lifting it onto her opposite shoulder, it took a few moments to settle it with something resembling comfort.

For her part, Emma held onto her grumpy expression, a pair of tiny fists curled tightly into the hem of her fluffy pink jumper. Bright blue eyes blinked as she looked up to Oisin's face as he spoke, grumpiness slowly giving way to a trembling lower lip. She nodded slowly, her little voice cracking around 'I can do that' as she did her best impression of her twin and latched herself around his neck.

Chrys blinked as she gazed over, Emma mumbling something wordless against his still-damp shoulder. She closed the distance between them, free hand reaching out to gently brush fingertips against Oisin's cheek. There were a million unsaid things lingering in her gaze as she simply stared at him, a faint smile finding unsteady purchase. From behind them, a porter's voice rang out with the final boarding call and it startled her to some degree.

"Emma, love...we have to...to...go." her voice trailed off in a hitched whisper. Before she knew what she was doing, she'd taken advantage of his occupied state and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Brianne tightened her grip on her mother and buried her face in her shoulder even as Chrys gently tried to persuade Emma into her free arm, gaze focused on the little one and avoiding meeting his.

[Oisin Ocasta]

Oisin felt himself lean against her lips, teasing the moment out of affection for just a split second longer. His arms ached, straining desperately within the restraints of his self control, wanting to do more than just stand here and watch her leave. A tiny crack fractured it's way through, and an arm reached out, a feeble embrace holding the four of them in a cohesive unit for just a moment.

"Be safe," Oisin whispered softly, as he ripped himself away. He tried to find a smile, and put it on; traded it out for a more convincing one a second or so later.

And then he left. Or at least, took a single solitary step backwards, retreating from the Atreides by just one stride. It made no distance: it could have been the span between galaxies between them, and it wouldn't have felt any worse than that one motion did.

"I -"

The word was ripped out of his lungs, following in the wake of the sensation that felt like his insides, his being, his soul had been ripped out of him, tethered irrevocably to the departing family. An entire novel of hidden meaning projected itself across his eyes and the subtle twitch of his brow, even as his mouth faltered and retreated. The smile was reinforced instead, drawing on as much warmth as Oisin's heart could find within him.

"I'll see you all soon."

[Chrys Atreides]

He'd leaned in.

And for a moment...for just that split second, her shattering heart felt warm and whole. For that second, there was nothing and no one else save for the four of them. The way it had been since almost the beginning.

Chrys swallowed hard as Oisin stepped back, her voice completely lost as she lifted her eyes to meet his. Teeth caught her lower lip for a moment as he stepped back, her mind unable to make sense of what she saw in his gaze over the pounding of her heart. Emma curled into her shoulder and clung as tightly to her mother as did her twin, with now three sets of cerulean blue eyes staring at Oisin. Emma and Brianne's gazes filled with tears as they whispered goodbye one more time, voices small and soft.

She herself couldn't force the word out past her lips, rapidly fraying control already taxed in an effort to keep herself together for the twins' sake. Her gaze spoke volume enough as she gave in and simply stared, drinking in the sight of him until she abruptly turned and walked down the short passageway. The twins waved until they couldn't see him any longer, the door closing behind them with a painful finality.

[Adonis Inirial]

You could see it in his shoulders as he stood there: the sadness; the loss; the resignation. Alderaanians had not invented loss and heartache, but over the last few years it had woven itself into their biology, an inevitable layer that draped itself across their form. There was not an Alderaanian alive who had not lost someone; not a single family that had not been shattered and broken - not an Alderaanian whose world had not been as obliterated as their shared home of Alderaan had been.

And so they compensated. Alderaanians clung to each other like refugees. They banded together, friendships forged into something stronger, reaching for every outstretched hand to drag themselves towards some semblance of belonging. When those bonds broke, when face or the Force pulled those surrogate families apart, it was painful to watch; and even more painful to experience. But it was a fact of life; a fact of the galaxy. There was nothing that any of the scattered, downtrodden survivors of Alderaan could do.

But Adonis was no ordinary survivor of Alderaan. His rank and uniform might paint him as a Commander in the Alliance military, but beneath it he was more. The last son of House Inirial. He was Alderaanian nobility; one of the last remaining few. For centuries his family had been leaders and custodians of Alderaan's culture and heritage; and even with Alderaan gone, that duty had not diminished. It was his responsibility to preserve the memories of a lost world, and to protect it's people from harm, whatever form that hurt might take.

Squaring his shoulders, Adonis stepped out from the corner that he'd been respectfully waiting behind, striding out into the corridor as if he had absolute purpose.

"Lieutenant," he called, tapping a few instructions into the datapad in his hands. "Exactly the man I was looking for."

[Oisin Ocasta]

Lieutenant. It was the last thing he expected to be called right now; and as such it took him a few moments longer than it should have to react.

"Commander?"

There was confusion in his voice, something his expression found extremely useful, embracing the opportunity to frown and narrow his eyes as away to halt the shimmering that had begun to haze across his vision. He focused, as best he could on collecting his thoughts, mentally walking his way back through the ship towards the flight deck and his fighter; the safe protective cockpit of an X-Wing, where Oisin knew who to be and how to survive being alone.

"Is there something I can do for you, sir?"

[Adonis Inirial]

He was not a typical pilot. Most of the members of Rogue Squadron that Adonis had met over his career - and most of the pilots in the rest of the Alliance, for that matter - had the same basic personality. They were confident, bordering on ego: but it was a necessity, a power source that fuelled the deflector shields that kept them alive against impossible odds. There was no room in a starfighter pilot for doubts, for balance, for modesty. Your personality had to behave the way your ship did: thrusters blasting you forward, no time wasted on staying still or hesitating.

But Oisin Ocasta was not that. Or at least he was, but those traits were somehow buried beneath more. Perhaps it was because he specialised as a reconnaissance pilot, long periods spent dedicated to observation and patience. He was not hesitant, not indecisive; and yet he was contemplative and considerate. He saw beyond the surface details, and in every briefing that Adonis had provided, he always saw the flickers of deeper understanding behind the Alderaanian's eyes. There was more than merely that, as well. As part of Rogue Squadron, Oisin had become Carré's wingman, the pilot charged with watching her back; one of the contributors to the fact that Adonis' sister was still alive enough to be a few months away from making Adonis an uncle. Carré trusted him, and so by extension so did Adonis; and he owed him, not just as a fellow son of Alderaan, but as family. He could see the pain coursing behind Oisin's eyes, and he would not allow it to stand.

"I take it you got my message?" Adonis asked, finishing the last few instructions on his datapad to falsify the time code and make it appear that the message he'd just written had been sent about an hour before. He waited patiently as Oisin's expression shifted through the expected confusion, before gesturing beyond him to the airlock. "The Destiny. I asked you to meet me here."

[Oisin Ocasta]

Oisin stared at him blankly, dumbly glancing over his shoulder before his frown deepened further.

"No, sir, I -"

Confusion ricocheted around Oisin's mind. A message? Instructions to come here? Oisin knew Carré's brother, of course, but mostly they'd crossed paths in a briefing room, occasionally acknowledging each other from opposite sides of a holoprojector. Adonis Inirial was an analyst, a strategist, someone that Vansen Tyree relied upon to help him coordinate his operations and formulate his missions. Why would an officer from Alliance Intelligence have wanted an X-Wing pilot to report to some military vessel bound for Jovan Station and the border? Was Adonis about to board the ship himself, and had some important message that needed to be delivered to Oisin of all people in person before he left? Was there a situation? A crisis? Was something wrong with Carré?

He straightened his shoulders, trying his utmost to force himself back into being the person he was supposed to be. Whether this was Commander Inirial, Lord Inirial, or Adonis Inirial that needed him for some reason, Lieutenant Ocasta was at his service.

"I've been helping a -" He trailed off, his mind fumbling for the right adjective. His mind's fingers brushed against friend. He grabbed hold of it, and threw it into the deep dark depths where it could never be used to describe the Atreides again. "- my family get situated aboard. They're travelling to Jovan."

That felt good. That felt right. That felt utterly superfluous to this situation, and not anything that Commander Inirial needed to know about.

"What can I do for you, sir?"

[Adonis Inirial]

There he was, and there it was: a son of Alderaan with his unbreakable resolve. It didn't matter how hard the galaxy tried to crush Alderaan under foot: the façades might crack and fracture, but the heart inside every Alderaanian was harder than diamond, and would never break.

"A fortunate coincidence then," Adonis lied, finishing the last touches to the final piece of his subterfuge. It was a long practised skill, one that Adonis had honed during his days serving the Empire: typing something on a datapad while making it seem as if you were searching for something that you had prepared earlier. Quite the valuable skill for the kind of man that Adonis had been back then, lazy and uncommitted, leaving everything to the last possible moment. It felt strangely fitting that such a talent had finally found himself a benevolent use.

With an expression that made it seem as if Adonis had finally discovered what he was looking for, he twisted the datapad around and handed it to the pilot. "I'm sorry that this is so last minute: I only received the assignment a few hours ago myself, and getting a transfer proposal cleared through Command takes time."

Oisin was still confused, and Adonis had to fight against a small amused smile at that.

"I've been placed in command of the Destiny, and I'm being deployed to Jovan Station to help coordinate the intelligence efforts along the border. I've been pulling together what crew I can, especially since Captain Terius is taking some of his officers with him. I need a First Officer; preferably one who is familiar with reconnaissance operations and telemetry, and you're the best option I have available."

His gaze shifted to the airlock again, imagining the starship beyond.

"She's no X-Wing, but I'll wager that the bridge of the Destiny will be a damn sight less mind-numbing than flying training missions with a bunch of Alliance rookies."

Adonis stood and watched, his mind and training decoding the various shifts and twitches of expression that belied the thoughts bouncing back and forth in Oisin's mind. The pilot didn't speak, clearly not quite sure how to react to his unexpected and seemingly coincidental good fortune. Adonis pressed the datapad into his hands, his expression softening into one of knowing, one that hinted at the ulterior motive lurking behind this turn of events. A hand gently placed itself on Oisin's shoulder.

"I'll arrange for your belongings to be collected from your quarters. You go tell your family the news."

And with that, Adonis strode past Oisin and off up the corridor, leaving the pilot still dumbfounded outside the airlock. The Commander tugged a fresh datapad from his pocket as he walked; he was supposed to have been headed to the ship, but it wouldn't take long to circle around and come back; the staging and theatrics of it all seemed worth a few moments of delay. He smiled to himself as he tapped his way through the datapad menu, beginning a new message to be transmitted to Admiral Tyree.

I'm taking Oisin Ocasta - long story. Transfer forms to follow. I owe you one.

He hesitated, staring at those last four words blinking on the screen before he corrected.

I owe you another.

[Chrys Atreides]

I worry I won't see your face
Light up again

Even the best fall down sometimes
Even the wrong words seem to rhyme
Out of the doubt that fills my mind
I somehow find
You and I collide

The melody threaded through her head, the soft tones emerging as a half-hearted hum as she cradled the twins in her arms, their faces buried in the soft fabric of her sweater. The few things they'd carried onto the ship were stowed neatly away near their seats, and both Emma and Brianne were doing their level best to leave every last tear and sniffle they could produce on her shoulders. Chrys didn't mind in the least that they did, and if she were to be honest, wished she could do much the same.

They had some measure of privacy with the seats aboard the luxurious craft, and even an extra one which she thought would be a boon if and when the girls exhausted themselves into sleep. Would that there was a welcome presence to fill that seat and to share the burden he had so willingly picked up without her having asked. He'd fit so seamlessly into their lives it was as if he had always been there. And that tore her heart apart anew. After Lorrd, and the time it took for her to pull herself together after she'd healed, Chrys knew well she wouldn't have been half as successful if Oisin hadn't been there for her.

For all three of them.

I'm quiet you know
You make a first impression
Well, I've found I'm scared to know
I'm always on your mind

Even the best fall down sometimes
Even the stars refuse to shine
Out of the back you fall in time
I somehow find
You and I collide

There was a quiet announcement, discreet in its volume to the point where she couldn't hear half the words. Chrys shook her head and tilted it down to press a kiss against each trembling head, the twins' soft blonde curls tied up in tiny pink ribbons. There were distant sounds of a door softly whooshing open and closed again, and a set of hurried footsteps striding down the hall. They almost sounded like his, but she dismissed the thought as sheer wishful thinking on her part. The woman stepped back a bit and gazed briefly down the corridor and saw nothing, before she sighed quietly and steadfastly ignored the dampness on her cheeks, voice faintly giving rise to the last few lyrics.

Even the wrong words seem to rhyme
Out of the doubt that fills your mind
You finally find
You and I collide