The Office, was plain and unadorned, but comfortable. Around 50 feet in length and breadth, It sported a few sofas and cushions for the comfort of any guests, but in the middle was a Table, built for efficiency rather than looks. On the table was a computer and a pile of papers and datapads, and behind those sat the once-Corsair veteran, Robert D'Souza.
The walls were decorated with a few medals that he had won in battle for the Corsairs and the Order, and there was a massive picture on the right wall. It was a picture of his ensign days, standing proudly and stiffly along with so many others, and accompanied by many senior officers of that time. So much time had passed since then, so many had left this mortal realm and into the bliss of uninterrupted sleep.
Robert looked at the picture and sighed. Very few of the old crew still remained. But he still kept that picture with him at all times, and since his recent promotion, he had it blown to large size and put it on his wall as a reminder.
With a flourish, he signed his name on yet another set of docments, regarding logistical supplies. It would be the time for discussions soon, and taking of decisions that affected the Order as a whole. But still he looked at the picture, and reminisced on the past.
Savage Gunfire. It clouded his vision, and turned reality into dreams, dreams into myth, and life into a waking dream. He launched down his Titan on a pack of outcasts, which scattered like skittles. And ships after ships of them were destroyed, as war-cries and a powerful crescendo of the proud songs of Crete reverberated through the communications......
The vision changed, and he found himself in a Bastet fighter, still besting the torrential gunfire, and raining fire upon his enemy, which had mysteriously changed form, and now was a myriad of bluish colored ships. He launched on them, but the ships did not scatter, but held, and responded ferociously. One by one, his wing mates were destroyed, the comms silenced, and they bore down on him, while the ever-growing visions and thoughts in his mind tormented his concentration....and they broke through his hull.....
Robert shook out of his reverie, a little pale. So much had happened he thought. Would the nomads ever be overcome? thought he, getting off his chair and pacing around the room. His mind turning towards despair was strengthened by a new hope, if the enemy had grown, he had as well. He had come a long way since his corsair days, and he would emerge victorious.
Nodding silently to himself, he took up his position in the chair again, and began working.
He had started to maintain a Diary, to look back, to learn, and to move forward. His first entry follows-
[font=Book Antiqua]Friday, 17th May, 818 AS
The last few days have been very hectic. Hunters are on the rise, and the Nomad activity is reaching record levels. I don't know if we can hold. So far, we have inflicted horrible losses on our foes, but at cost to ourselves.
A few days back, we attempted to test a prototype probe in the Iota system. A huge risk taken, and for nothing. The Probe malfunctioned and was effectively useless to us in that dangerous wilderness. The Captain of the vessel known as "Caged Crow" shows a lot of promise, and will probably rise further if he survives that long.
Anyways, we aroused the wrath of the nomads, and they attacked with full force to cleanse their home. In the midst of the battle, I had a "talk" with a nomad, if talks it could be called. It was difficult to resist it's arguments, very difficult indeed. Problem is, I can remember very little of what it attempted to show me, but it was clear that it intended to take me alive. Somehow, I survived.
And of course, hunters. They attack us with force, and we keep destroying them again and again. But there is only so long we can hold them off with limited resources. Also, they seem to be timing their attacks so that they hit at a time we are already busy elsewhere. Our resources are being stretched thin. We need more help from somewhere. I wish my amigos from Crete could assist.....
Wait and watch. That was what he had been doing for so many long months. Wait and watch, as the wheel of time turned, and developments took place. He had studiously read the reports brought in from various quarters, from the Wedjat, from field personnel, from agents on the line of duty and elsewhere.
The tidings were sad, and gloomy for the most part. An entire squadron of ships lost in the Walker Nebula. Vizier wing unable to cope with the gargantuan rise in the number of infected wilde vessels, most of the original people assigned there had returned in bodybags. The Arsephes taking a number of critical hits in a surprise maneuver by the Guild Core, and was stuck in Evora, where they were unable to find enough hull panels to repair the holes, and were using old scrap metal instead.
Atum's location had nearly been compromised, if the navy had managed to pinpoint it then, it would be a devastating blow. Wedjat agents were bringing rumors of a massive attack by the new house, Gallia. He dreaded the rumors, if they were true, then a new threat to humanity would emerge, from within itself. The Order was failing, and there was nothing he could do about it, except wait and watch.....
As the shuttle stood ready on the Toledo pad, Mendel gave Miller a look.
"I expect you to handle the meeting with the Admiral. Don't screw it up... I will be on the Havana, close at hand... make sure you report to me. This provides us with the ability to consider carefully the Order's negotiations without placing a decision-capable individual in direct contact." Mendel shrugged. "They may not like it, but I prefer business done this way, and you do have more information on this mission than I do." He pointed to the shuttle, "get going Commissar."
Commissar-Captain Robert Miller crisply saluted Mendel, turned and walked away. He dared not say a word; deep down he feared Mendel as much as everybody else. He was a dominant figure and Miller had long ago decided it would be best to stay on his good side. He didn't know what Mendel wanted said, so had decided it was best to say nothing.
The howling Toledo winds pounded Miller, who even in his massive coat with hat and gloves still felt like he was naked. He was still physically weak, the trial on JiangXi ending just days before, and needed a lie down with a hot cup of tea. He would have been doing that if he had been offered any other assignment, he dared to believe. He probably would have been pushed onto doing those by Mendel anyway. He'd been more than eager to accept the mission to Toledo to represent the Commissariat. For all he knew it could have been his last opportunity - visits such as this were sparse and he may be dead by the next one.
He proceeded down the platform path, snow crunching under his boots and cane. He'd brought the cane, wanting to look respectable. He was after all a Bretonian gentleman, and he was proud of that. Years of strict guidelines had indoctrinated the rules of a gentleman into his blood; attempting to purge it from his system would be futile.
He heard the shuttle activate its engines behind him and take off, the thrusters noise gradually becoming further and further away until it was lost by the gust of the wind. He was in it now, all or nothing. He could hardly call the shuttle back, claiming he had left his dressing gown and slippers onboard, just to have a few more seconds feeling at ease. He'd actually left those on Gorodok.
It was a new test of his abilities now. Another test; another trial. Miller hoped it wouldn't do as much damage as the last one, sub-consciously feeling under the coat the still-healing wound caused by a shard of glass. If he failed this test, he wouldn't have his head ripped off by a four-storey octopus. It'd be Mendel.
He continued moving down the path, the lights surrounding the gate to the inside hanger a welcoming sight to him now. He pushed on.
[17:45:39] Wolfs Ghost (Murphy): Tom, you have problems. Go kill yourself.
[19:25:12] Johnny (Jam): Tomtom, I will beat you with a spoon.
[14:22:56] Prarabdh Thakur: KILL HIM WITH A SHEEP.
[17:40:48] Eagle (Junes): Tom should be slapped with a spoon.
[11:32:18] Warspite: Thank you for being so awesome Tom. <3
[18:17:36] Metano: I love you tomtom
[20:06:24] Warspite: I will seriously give you epic head.
' Wrote:Edit: also, Tomtomrawr, fappin' like a boss.
An aide rushed into D'Souza's office, out of breath. Clearly she had ran all the way...
Robert looked up from his terminal, and gave an inquiring look. The aide wasted no time.
The Coalition Representative's shuttle has arrived, Sir. Should I send him here?
The Hispanian Admiral pushed his chair back a little, and got up. He was not particularly tall, but there was assurance in the way he stood, and the brief nod he gave to the aide. She scampered out.
He had a short time to ponder. There was a window, looking out into the dark void encompassing Lisbon Station. The Green and black so common to this region of space stared back at him. It had a little in common with Crete's green nebulae, but it lacked the rusty red, and the bleak sun that died and yet lived. The sun here was sharp, or would be, but his window did not face Omicron 100's prominent star. Rocks, lots of rocks. They would serve as an excellent natural defense, should Omicron 100 be breached. He was hoping it would never come to that, whatever it took...
Miller had believed the meeting to be on Toledo, But after entering the hanger he had been whisked to another shuttle, and immediately taken to Omicron-100. There they had passed through a massive asteroid field which seemed to occupy most, if not all of the systems save for a cleared spot near a desert planet. The shuttle had undergone a full scan by a nearby battleship, the Apophis, before making final approaches to Lisbon.
Miller had been greeted at the hanger by a young officer, assigned to show to him to Admiral D'Souza's office. Miller had gratefully followed the man through the station, observing the activities of men and women through the tightly-winding corridors. Scientists scurried past in their white coats, closely followed by technicians pushing heavy trolleys loaded to the brim with equipment.
They eventually reached the office. Robert D'Souza - Rear Admiral was neatly engraved on the translucent glass window of the door. The officer saluted Miller and turned away, a secretary sat at a desk typing away at a computer console. She looked up at Miller, examined his uniform and cane, then opened her mouth to speak.
'Just knock on the door Commissar-Captain. Admiral D'Souza will call for you to enter.'
Miller nodded, and moved to the door. He stood at it for a second, taking a deep breath. Through the translucent glass he could see a figure sitting at a desk. He knocked on the door. Once, twice. Then stood with his arms behind his back.
He heard a voice from inside. 'Come in!' He twisted the door knob and entered the Admiral's office. No turning back now. Every noise he made seemed unusually loud. His boots treading on the floor, his breathing, his cane tapping on the metal.
As he approached the Admiral's table he examined the office. It was fairly plain, yet had a certain comfortable feel to it. Medals were spread out across the walls to show all visitor's his achievements, scattered around so as not to leave any person's line of sight free of at least one medal. One picture was prominent in the room; a group photo of Ensigns standing stiffly in perfect order with various superiors close by.
Miller reached the table, and D'Souza studied him. 'Commissar-Captain Robert Miller of the Coalition, Admiral. An honour.' He may have overdone the introduction, but there was no taking it back now.
[17:45:39] Wolfs Ghost (Murphy): Tom, you have problems. Go kill yourself.
[19:25:12] Johnny (Jam): Tomtom, I will beat you with a spoon.
[14:22:56] Prarabdh Thakur: KILL HIM WITH A SHEEP.
[17:40:48] Eagle (Junes): Tom should be slapped with a spoon.
[11:32:18] Warspite: Thank you for being so awesome Tom. <3
[18:17:36] Metano: I love you tomtom
[20:06:24] Warspite: I will seriously give you epic head.
' Wrote:Edit: also, Tomtomrawr, fappin' like a boss.
'Of course. Some Coalition vodka would do me a treat.' He chuckled uneasily, although his confidence had suddenly taken a magical boost. 'Seems I've taken a liking to the stuff. Must be due to its availability. You'd be surprised how hard it can be to find a decent cup of tea on Zvezdny.' He rested his cane on the floor just in-front of where he was sitting, careful not to create a loud noise when placing it on the metal sheet.
[17:45:39] Wolfs Ghost (Murphy): Tom, you have problems. Go kill yourself.
[19:25:12] Johnny (Jam): Tomtom, I will beat you with a spoon.
[14:22:56] Prarabdh Thakur: KILL HIM WITH A SHEEP.
[17:40:48] Eagle (Junes): Tom should be slapped with a spoon.
[11:32:18] Warspite: Thank you for being so awesome Tom. <3
[18:17:36] Metano: I love you tomtom
[20:06:24] Warspite: I will seriously give you epic head.
' Wrote:Edit: also, Tomtomrawr, fappin' like a boss.
![[Image: 5438_s.png]](http://signavatar.com/5438_s.png)
