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6/12/2016 3:47:27 PM
1
The hallways of the ship were filled with crewmembers, all of them wearing uniforms. Eventually, following the lights, they arrived into a small office room, where a woman waited for them. She was young, in a prestigious uniform, she was most likely a person of importance.
"Good morning. My name is Kayla, and I will be your liaison to Triumvirate command."
Her voice was sweet, calm, yet had a strange twist of unwanted coldness behind it, like a trait. She was trying her best, however, to hide it.
English
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Editado por Trashcan Jesus: 6/12/2016 4:13:30 PM[i]Clarkson made note of this coldness, but did not change his demeanor. He was amazed, however, at how young she was. He always saw officers, but they were usually older than what she appeared to be. The man facing her looked to be in his forties, his once deep black hair now sporting a few grey streaks, his neatly-trimmed goatee going salt-and-pepper. His eyes were a cold blue, but his expression was calm. His exosuit was a sleek black with silver feathers engraved on certain parts of it. Two pistols sat at his hips, and a rifle, bow, and bo staff were situated on his back. A knife was on the inside of his left leg, another sat on his shoulder pauldron, hilt angled downwards. A single bandolier crossed his chest, and a long black cloak with a silver crow embossed in the center of it adorned him. Like her, he seemed important.[/i] Aye, is it morning? Hard to tell in space. Field Marshal Lord Nicholas Clarkson, Special Air Service, at your service, Miss Kayla. [i]A notable British accent, a smooth voice.[/i]
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"A lot of people want your head right now, Mr. Clarkson. Luckily for you, we aren't one of those people. We believe in Justice. And from the footage we've gathered, the blame is open to interpretation. We have gathered a list of suspects. It's not much, but it's what we have."
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You're telling me... Your footage only shows you outside. I've got my HUD and communications records for the past month on me in the suit's data logs. Analyze what you need, because I promise you'll be looking at an entirely new possibility. Drache's got no access to my suit's recordings, and because of that, he can say I was aboard my ship or completely gone during the entire incident. I was on base when the Montgomery crashed.
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"I have a feeling he won't be receptive of the proof. We'll have to build ourselves a strong basis before going public, regardless of him."
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Of course, but Drache does not have the ability to deny the footage. What remains of the Castle currently is numerically weaker than almost any other faction in the area. If a force was assembled to take him to trial, you'd be able to do it. However, I do agree with you on waiting for the time being, because the bloody hun's going to play his cards close to his chest and continue to paint me red. He's got a fairly solid basis already. So what exactly would you propose instead?
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"Going with force would be possible, but really not advantageous. It doesn't paint the right image. And while waiting is an option, we can't afford to let him get what he wants. Using the proof you can give us, be it recordings, statements, hell, even any dirt we can get on Drache, and going public with it will be sufficient to harass him constantly. It'll make the public question the Castle, and the Castle brass will have to do something about him. Let's not play all of our cards yet, however, since he still doesn't know where you are. Let's gather what we can, then tease him into our trap. Exposing him is, in my opinion, the best solution."
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The problem is, Drache and Riker are the Castle's brass. There's nobody else alive at this point out of the commanders.
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"Well then, from the way I see it, we force them in a corner. To the point where the inhabitants of New Terra want them out. Expose them out of their power, confuse their forces, disrupt the chain of command."
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More easily said than done, but it's definitely doable.
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"With your cooperation, we can do it. It's impossible to say that all of Castle wants you dead. You must have had friends that would be swayed to believe your version of the story. Just like I'm sure some people aren't very fond of Drache."
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Current chances of that are low. I'm the only opposing commander alive, and the German and American forces are the only two still around in large numbers. The bloody Huns made sure of that. The Yanks want me dead to avenge their comrades that Schrader killed in Dubai. The people that trust me are the only ones with me.
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"I see... well, we can still manage to oppose them. Expose them publicly, then drive them into a corner. If confrontation breaks out, we should be able to handle them."
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That's the plan, mate.
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"Good enough plan for me." She smiles. "Let's make it happen." She turns back to her desk, sitting in front of her monitor. "First off, I'll need you to hand me your recordings, HUD and all, so I can download them into the mainframe."
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[i]He unclipped his helmet, and rolled it, turning it over. Reaching inside, he pulled an SD card out from the inside, and handed it off to her.[/i] Everything's on it, mate.
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She placed it into the monitor. "And now, we wait. In the mean time, I'm sure you'd like to meet Admiral Thrawn. He is in charge of your defense. Which means that if anyone comes running here to find you, they'll have to deal with him first."
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I suppose it'd be polite to speak to him, eh? [i]He re-clipped his helmet to his gunbelt and stood waiting.[/i] Not too worried about anyone finding us, we're hidden fairly well from anyone who'd be hunting me.
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She walked to the door on the other side of the office, opposite from where they came. "Down this way is the bridge. I'll remain here and watch over the data transfer."
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Editado por Trashcan Jesus: 6/12/2016 11:11:52 PM[i]He approached and walked through, turning around once he had passed through the door-frame.[/i] Thank you, ma'am. Good to know there's a few decent people out there. [i]With that, Clarkson turned around and headed to the bridge. [/i]
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The bridge was pretty large, with multiple various stations. A large holographic map of the system was projected from a circular table at the center of the bridge, on an elevated position. There were about twenty people in the room, working on different monitors, consoles and stations. At the chair on top of it all, was Grand Admiral Thrawn. The man was wearing a white uniform, with white gloves, golden shoulder pads on it. It was clean, neatly pressed and tailored just for him. As for the man himself, his skin was blue and his eyes red, like Kayla. They were most likely from the same species. His face was softly wrinkled, the man must have been around his fifties. "Gentlemen." In his voice, there was an undeniable tinge of coldness. At first, this man reminded Clarkson of Drache, in the aspect that he was an unscrupulous military leader not to be trifled with. But then again, first impressions may be misguiding.
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[i]Rather than Drache, Clarkson saw a striking similarity to Edward Schrader, the CEO of Venom Incorporated. This man was clearly unafraid to utilize power, something that Clarkson respected highly, he just hoped the man had tact. Then again, you didn't become a commanding officer if you were sloppy. The man facing Thrawn looked to be in his forties, his once deep black hair now sporting a few grey streaks, his neatly-trimmed goatee going salt-and-pepper. His eyes were a cold blue, but his expression was calm. His exosuit was a sleek black with silver feathers engraved on certain parts of it, the structural design a product of Venom Incorporated. Two pistols sat at his hips, and a rifle, bow, and bo staff were situated on his back. A knife was on the inside of his left leg, another sat on his shoulder pauldron, hilt angled downwards. A single bandolier crossed his chest, and a long black cloak with a silver crow embossed in the center of it adorned him. The Special Air Service patch adorned his right shoulder pauldron, the Castle insignia of the rearing black stallion adorned his left. He observed the Admiral silently.[/i]
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"I'm almost tempted to give a tip to the enemy on where we are, for them to come and test the power of this ship. And although that would be perhaps entertaining, I don't think it would be the most tactically wise decision. Your name, again?"
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Field Marshal Lord Nicholas Clarkson, British Special Air Service. [i]He said, face expressionless. Clarkson did not show his pride for his title, he simply did his job.[/i]
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"Lord? Interesting. There won't be any need to worry, Nicholas. We'll keep you safe, and I promise you that we'll see this to the end." His voice was as cold as before, and only then did clarkson notice something. Upon further examining his facial features, more precisely his nose and mouth, he could tell that there was a striking resemblance between the Admiral and Kayla. "I'll have some quarters prepared for you and your team."
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Thank you, sir. Lord's a British thing, always has been. No other military from my dimension uses the title except the United Kingdom. [i]Clarkson wasn't entirely sure how rankings worked for the Triumvirate, but he assumed it was similar to traditional military rankings that he was familiar with. [/i]
