Imperial Command and Control Center – Bastion
Two Days Earlier…
“ What do you mean new orders?” The obviously stunned Commander stood with his brow furrowed in frustration as he attempted to get blood from a stone. A mere Ensign sat behind a comfortable somewhere at High Command on Coruscant enjoying every minute of his argument. Ensigns from the Imperial Navy were the lowest grade officer in Service and had to take a good deal of - stuff – from their superiors; when one wore the broad crimson trouser stripe of the General Staff, the wielded a considerably larger amount of power.
Commander Edor Fraemont gritted his teeth and tossed aside a datapad he had been working on before rudely interrupted by a representative of the highest military power in the Empire. The short officer sighed and let the tension ease on his face, the M43 cap sitting on his red-black hair shifting ever so slightly as he did. Around him, the sparse furnishings of his barrack-quarters faded away as he narrowed his eyes toward the officer many sectors distant.
“ These orders come from the top?”
Not lacking in arrogance, the Ensign smiled curtly. “ Of course.” He had no cap on his head; then again, few officers on Imperial Center did. Such was a privilege of being posted to the capital.
Without a salute or any respectful gesture offered, the Ensign signed off and the receiver screen went blank. An emblem designed by Commodore-Moff Theren Gevel for the Bastion Sector Fleet was formed from the blankness before Commander Fraemont turned the console off.
During the conversation a data-card had been formatted with the specific mission briefing Command had been kind enough to send him. Swiping the pad into his hands again not too gently, Fraemont slammed in the card and read. When he was done, the pad once again flew across the room.
“ Permanently reassigned? Hutt Space???[/b]
Two Days Earlier…
“ What do you mean new orders?” The obviously stunned Commander stood with his brow furrowed in frustration as he attempted to get blood from a stone. A mere Ensign sat behind a comfortable somewhere at High Command on Coruscant enjoying every minute of his argument. Ensigns from the Imperial Navy were the lowest grade officer in Service and had to take a good deal of - stuff – from their superiors; when one wore the broad crimson trouser stripe of the General Staff, the wielded a considerably larger amount of power.
Commander Edor Fraemont gritted his teeth and tossed aside a datapad he had been working on before rudely interrupted by a representative of the highest military power in the Empire. The short officer sighed and let the tension ease on his face, the M43 cap sitting on his red-black hair shifting ever so slightly as he did. Around him, the sparse furnishings of his barrack-quarters faded away as he narrowed his eyes toward the officer many sectors distant.
“ These orders come from the top?”
Not lacking in arrogance, the Ensign smiled curtly. “ Of course.” He had no cap on his head; then again, few officers on Imperial Center did. Such was a privilege of being posted to the capital.
Without a salute or any respectful gesture offered, the Ensign signed off and the receiver screen went blank. An emblem designed by Commodore-Moff Theren Gevel for the Bastion Sector Fleet was formed from the blankness before Commander Fraemont turned the console off.
During the conversation a data-card had been formatted with the specific mission briefing Command had been kind enough to send him. Swiping the pad into his hands again not too gently, Fraemont slammed in the card and read. When he was done, the pad once again flew across the room.
“ Permanently reassigned? Hutt Space???[/b]