trans_9 | two officers walk in to the sensoriums

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two officers walk in to the sensoriums | [OPEN]

[Continued from here]

Thrawn's reputation said that nothing escaped him; given the man's record, Tycho was inclined to believe it. Thus he was sure Thrawn had noticed the side-long glances Tycho kept shooting him as he guided the Chiss down Stacy's corridors, pointing out locations of interest. The passed corridors leading to the transport tubes, the media library and the sleeping halls and crew quarters before they finally reached the sensoriums. Tycho was normally a quiet, reserved man, but Thrawn's presence had made him even quieter. He had a million things he wanted to know, but he doubted there was any way he could ask that would be sufficiently subtle or clever enough to get past Thrawn.

The sensorium chamber they entered was a large blank room. "Well, here we are," Tycho said redundantly. "And-" he shut his eyes, and suddenly they were standing on a balcony on the upper level of the Imperial Palace, looking out over a night-time view of Coruscant's skyline. Speeders and other hover-traffic whizzed by in the distance, and far above, the lights of sky hooks twinkled distantly. A cool night breeze blew on their faces. From the open balcony doors behind them came a warm spill of light and the tinkling sound of soft music and laughter. Clearly some kind of event was taking place, probably one Tycho remembered having attended. The scene now created, Tycho opened his eyes and turned to look at Thrawn. "-that's how they work," he finished.

He waited, hands clasped behind his back, for the other man's reaction.

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Tycho opened his eyes to see Thrawn looking not at the environment created by the sensorium, but at him, face unreadable. The Grand Admiral waited a beat, and then turned to gaze out over the vast city that engulfed the planet. "I see," he said, voice level. "That's an impressive bit of technology. Will it accept input from anyone--"

The scene around them shifted, and the two men were standing on the bridge of an Imperial-class Star Destroyer. Graveyard shift, apparently, since the highest-ranking officer in sight was a Commander, who looked questioningly at them before Thrawn waved him off. "Ah. It seems it will."

Tycho's eyebrows shot briefly upwards as the location shifted, but other than that he didn't react. "Indeed," he said. He glanced around the bridge but didn't see any identifying marks that he recognized. It was clearly an Imperial I-class, but other than that, it could be any one of hundreds of ships. "One of yours?" he assumed, not really expecting an answer.

"It does clothing as well," Tycho offered. A blink later, and they were standing on a beach. Tycho was wearing a loose lightweight shirt and swimming trunks, bare feet sinking into the warm sand. "You can swim, if you want," he continued with a slightly amused smile as he squinted into the sun. "The water feels and behaves exactly like water. People often like to come here to get away, to relax."

"Of course, it's got a far more practical use than that as well." Another blink later, and they were standing in the main bay of a Super Star Destroyer. Thrawn probably wouldn't recognize the Lusankya, though he might recognize it as a twin of the Executor. Regardless, there had clearly been some modifications. Squadrons of X-Wings sat on the deck along side the TIEs. Tycho was now fully suited up in an X-Wing flight suit, helmet tucked under his arm.

"Any scenario you can think of, you can run through in full scale, in real time. Better than any simulator ever invented."

"The Admonitor," Thrawn replied, and watched to all appearances impassively as the sensorium flicked through scenes at the speed of Tycho's thoughts. By the time they got to the Lusankya, Thrawn was wearing a Grand Admiral's uniform, the sleek variant with no epaulets or rank squares. He looked as though he'd been born in it.

"What happens when an injury is sustained in a simulation?" he asked as he looked around the hangar at where changes had been made from standardized Imperial design to accommodate the very non-standard X-wings.

"Hmm." Tycho contemplated the question. "When we're running piloting simulations with multiple real pilots, if a craft is 'destroyed', we always have the sensorium set to return the 'killed' pilot to an observational position, while the rest finish the exercise. For more hand to hand based combat ... any injury caused by sensorium generated weapons, any change to your clothing ... it all disappears once you leave the sensoriums. Everything the sensorium creates, it feels real, and your mind thinks it is real, only while in the confines of the sensoriums. Once you leave, it no longer exists." Tycho smiled thinly. "For example, if I were to punch you right now with my bare fist, after you left the sensorium, any bruising you sustained would remain. However, if I were to hit you with my flight helmet--" Tycho hefted the object in question, "it would feel real, but once you left, all signs of injury would disappear, because you would not have actually been hit by a physical object." Tycho gave his best impassive professional face. "Does that sufficiently answer your question, sir?"

The manner in which he chose to illustrate his point earned Tycho a raised eyebrow and an extremely dry response. "Very informative, thank you, Colonel."

The Lusankya vanished, replaced by darkness reaching out into the distance, except for a pool of light around the two of them, and a sculpture. Thrawn leaned in close to the artwork, examining it minutely.

This got a very raised eyebrow from Tycho in return, and he watched Thrawn with considerable interest.

"An art aficionado?" he finally queried.

"I don't spend all my time fighting," Thrawn replied, factually if not quite honestly, as he paced slowly around the sculpture. "This is a piece with which I'm quite familiar--the fidelity of reproduction is perfect." Having made a full circuit, he straightened. "Or I'm simply being convinced it is. I'm not certain there's an existential difference," he said wryly.

Tycho's eyebrows rose as he considered the question. "Considering the sensoriums draw the source of the projected image directly from your thoughts and memories, it should be just as accurate as your memory of it. How accurate your memory is--" Tycho shrugged slightly. "That I can't comment on."

He watched Thrawn a bit longer, eyes keen. "So," he finally continued, "having seen a sample of Daligig technology now, what's your initial verdict?"

Thrawn dismissed the art piece and the darkness with a thought, and the two men were again standing in the bare sensorium, Thrawn himself back in his plantsuit, though he'd left Tycho's pilot's gear.

"My initial verdict is that I need more data, Colonel." It was evasive, but true. It was simply too much to take in at once, even for an intellect of Thrawn's caliber. "Still, if the Ohm can harry them, I can't say I find that reassuring."

Tycho's sensorium generated pilot's gear vanished, and he was left in just the plain orange flight suit he'd been wearing when he'd entered. He nodded slightly at Thrawn's words. Really, it wasn't any more or less than what he'd expected, but still, there had been the faintest glimmer of hope that Thrawn had seen something, understood something that all the rest of them had missed. He is fallible Tycho reminded himself. He's a brilliant tactician, but he still needs things to work with; information, resources.

Such should only be offered to him very cautiously though.

"As you mentioned earlier, it is certainly possible this is all just in our heads," Tycho began. "However, it seems to me the logical thing to do is to operate under the assumption that it's all very real. In that case, we have a war to fight." Tycho paused. Here's where it got tricky. "Your assistance in that fight--" Another pause. "What would you be willing to offer?"

Thrawn caught Tycho's gaze with his own piercing red one. "I offer to trust you, Colonel Celchu."

Whatever Tycho was expecting Thrawn to say, it was not that. His surprise was clear on his face. He held Thrawn's gaze, with difficulty. The man was incredibly disconcerting, yes, but ... to Tycho, Isard was worse. He clenched his jaw and drew on his deep reserves of calm and strength, hard earned through everything that had happened to him, and continued to meet Thrawn's gaze.

Carefully, Tycho schooled his features back to something neutral, "You understand," he said cautiously, "that because of ... your history, people will have a hard time trusting you. But I believe people will be willing to work with you ..."

Tycho trailed off. The surrealness of the situation was hitting him hard. When you arrived on Stacy, did you ever think one day you would be offering to work with Grand Admiral Thrawn? Of course he hadn't. Tycho finally let his gaze drop. What do you say in a situation like this?

He had no idea.

"One earns trust by giving it," Thrawn said, voice mild, appearing not to notice Tycho's surprise. "Colonel, there's no Empire left to defend, and I am not a man who's loyal to specters of the past."

His lips quirked in an expression too tired to be a smile. "Besides, if anyone else from the Fleet or another Imperial organization wakes up, would you rather have them loyal to me, or to Vader?"

"That is an excellent point." The thought of Vader with any followers was not a pleasant one. "And you are entirely correct about the lack of distinctions of the Empire and the New Republic. ... still, these things take time."

Tycho paused again. "I suppose I should show you what we have to work with," he offered. "In addition to rescuing people, Stacy also rescued vehicles- they're all in the hanger bay." Tycho headed for the door to the sensoriums, holding it open for Thrawn. "Did Wedge brief you about the ... command structure here on Stacy?" Tycho wondered. When he thought about who was the Captain of the ship, there was a niggling thought in the back of his mind, as if there was something important he had forgotten. Something about a captain ...? But there was no Captain of Stacy, there hadn't been for as long as Tycho had been awake on the ship, right? He dismissed the odd sensation from his mind. "Rogue Squadron is the primary military organization, though as more other soldiers wake up from other worlds, we will probably want to expand the military structure to accommodate them ..."

"The lack of command structure, you mean? Yes, he did." Thrawn nodded in thanks as he stepped through the door Tycho was holding. "He mentioned you were cross-training pilots from other...universes?"

"The lack of command structure. Yes." Tycho's mouth compressed in a thin line as he began to lead Thrawn down the hall heading for the transport tubes so they could go to the hanger bay. "Many ... probably most of the people on Stacy are civilians, and are not used to ... having to follow orders, shall we say. They are often incredibly powerful or talented; think along the lines of Jedi, but ... different, and are often used to fighting on their own home worlds, but still ..." Tycho grimaced. "It is going to take something not inconsiderable to get them to work together in an ... organized fashion."

"We're training pilots from other universes, yes," Tycho nodded. "But, we're also training ... civilians. People with no piloting experience at all. We basically took on everyone who wanted to volunteer. It's been ..." Tycho's mouth twisted in a wry smile. "An ... experience. Still, they're all eager to learn, and hard workers, if ... undisciplined, sometimes. I've been training them now for 3 months, and they've made some impressive progress. Being able to use the sensoriums to train in has helped greatly."

"They've been drafted into a war. Something 'not inconsiderable' will happen sooner or later." He shrugged. "If they stay out of the way, that will be enough to start."

Thrawn listened to Tycho's explanation as the other man led the way along Stacy's curving corridors to the bank of transport tubes. "Did you choose X-wings as a matter of familiarity, or are there other fighter craft available?"

Being grabbed by a tentacle (http://trans9.wikia.com/wiki/Level_One#The_Hub) and whisked along through a tube was not Tycho's favorite way of getting around, but over the past 3 months he'd gotten used to it, and so he didn't even flinch as the tentacles guided the two of them into the anti-grav tubes. "The hanger bay," Tycho told Stacy and they were whisked along to level one.

Tycho waited until they were back on their feet to answer Thrawn's question. "There are other craft, but it was a matter of familiarity, yes. Wedge and I are both proficient at flying several craft from our universe, of course, but there aren't any here in the numbers that there are X-Wings, which we are both more than proficient with as well. They were the logical choice." Tycho started to lead Thrawn through the massive chamber, passing everything from Gundams and Evas to larger ships, to what were obviously single person fighters from other universes. He stopped in front of a group of two dozen X-Wings, all parked together, patting one of them on the side. "This one is mine, and I mean, it is mine. I know this craft from nose to tail, and it is definitely my personal X-Wing, even down to the R4." From its position behind the pilot's canopy, the droid trilled a greeting at them. Tycho shook his head. "I'm not sure how Stacy rescued all of this, but I'm glad that she did. Considering what Stacy's construction is like, being forced to familiarize ourselves with Daligig fighter craft would have been a definite disadvantage."

In an unconscious gesture, Thrawn brushed his hair back into place, giving the withdrawing tentacle a not-particularly-friendly look as he did so.

He looked around the hangar and its varied craft as they walked, glancing over at Tycho often enough for courtesy. The X-wings were X-wings, and, if not for their unusual setting, would not have been remarkable. "If there are any available craft with unique capabilities, the pilots should at least become proficient. I have no problem with X-wings being the primary fighter complement, but they're not suited for bombing, for example."

Tycho nodded. Already Thrawn was thinking of issues he himself hadn't thought of. It was, he supposed, the difference between being a fleet commander and being a squadron commander. By training, Tycho's thought process ran along the lines of the actions of his individual squadron. He hated to admit it, but the longer he talked to the man, the more glad he was that Thrawn was here now. They could use him- Tycho wasn't going to go as far yet as to say that they needed him; he was sure they would have managed somehow if Thrawn had never showed up. But with Thrawn here ... Things would certainly be better managed, that was for sure.

The hanger bay was large enough that you couldn't see one side from the other. Tycho looked around at the dizzying array of ships, and nodded. "You're right of course. No one's cataloged everything that's in here, yet. Since not all the owners have woken up, I'm not sure we can even know what everything in here is. I believe there's a few TIE bombers though." Tycho pulled his datapad out of a pocket and started jotting things down. "I'll talk to Wedge and make a selection of the pilots I think would be most capable of flying bombing runs to begin training."

Edited 2010-06-05 22:15 (UTC)

"We'll want someone who can pilot dropships, too--I'm aware how little fighter pilots like flying anything else, but that doesn't eliminate the need, especially given how many holes I suspect we'll have in the TO." If Thrawn had had a chair handy, he'd have leaned back in it and steepled his fingers. Logistics weren't glamorous or exciting, but one couldn't fight a war without them.

Tycho frowned at his datapad and made more notes. "We actually do have some shuttle/EVA pick-up pilots I believe, but I'll make sure to have that slot filled. As for the TO--" Tycho frowned some more. "It would be helpful if we had some kind of unified system of rank. Right now everyone has the rank they had back in their home universe, and it's often completely incompatible." As the squadron XO, Tycho was used to having to deal with logistics. Talking logistics with Thrawn was seeming scarily ... normal.

War never changes.

"I agree, but it will be difficult to get people to accept perceived demotions, or to sever those connections with their homeworlds. Best to postpone that battle on a shipwide basis, but if you can implement a coherent system within the squadron I think it would be helpful," Thrawn said.

He ran his thumbnail over a nick in the X-wing's hull. It was a different aesthetic, the Rebel--New Republic willingness to display wear and damage, a sign both of their original financial straits, but also of a rougher self-image, an emphasis on accomplishment over image. All well and good when they were the rebels, but it would not serve them so well as a government.

"It is your squadron, Tycho, make up your ow--oh!" Arha began, but the hydrospanner she'd been working with slipped and arced as it fell. Half a thought later, it slowed and stopped about five inches from Thrawn's head. A pair of bright-blue-within blue eyes peered over the edge of the cockpit, wide-eyed with concern.

She bit her lip and the tool eased its way back up to her. Arha snagged it once it was close enough and blinked, peering at Tycho and the blue skinned man for a long moment.

Internally, Tycho winced. This was going to be ... interesting. "Flight Officer Masaari," he said carefully, shooting her a significant glace, "this is Imperial Grand Admiral Thrawn." He knew Thrawn would probably notice the look he was sending Arha, but it didn't matter, as long as she received the message: this man is not for hugging. He didn't know how much Arha had been told about the history of their galaxy, but he hoped she knew what an 'Imperial' was enough to realize that 'just because he comes from the same universe Luke and Wedge and I do, does not mean he is automatically family.'

Tycho shot Arha one last look before turning back to Thrawn. His face was carefully neutral. "Flight Officer Masaari is one of our most promising new pilots. ... She's training to be a Jedi, as well." Hence the hovering hydrospanner.

Thrawn stopped with his hand most of the way to intercepting the now-floating spanner, and let his arm drop back to his side. "Indeed," he replied dryly, not having missed the Significant Look Tycho was training on Arha.

"Flight Officer," he acknowledged her. "Are you from our universe, or does Force sensitivity span multiple realities?" Thrawn met her Spice-blue eyes with his own glowing red ones, but his expression was one of polite curiosity. Only his presence in the Force revealed the unending calculations ticking away behind the level gaze.

She gave Tycho a look back that was full of laughter.

"I do not come from your Universe," Arha said, already swinging down from the X-Wing to lounge up against the bird she'd been repairing (she had found bolts missing and had been determined to put them back). "It was the Force that chose me, I think, but I was open and willing. Obi-Wan helped me make the permanent connection--such was needed to heal him of his wounds at the time. I began training shortly after that incident."

Her smile was was full of bright joy.

"I am preparing for my Trials, at this time. I shall be Knight and pilot. Such a thing is pleasing to me that I may aid in such a manner."

... At least she hadn't tried to hug him. As for her relaxed attitude and lack of visible discipline ... well, Tycho supposed that Thrawn was going to need an accurate picture of Rogue Squadron if he really was going to be in charge of anything, tactically speaking.

There was one thing though ... "General Kenobi," Tycho explained warily. "General Kenobi from a much earlier time-frame than either you or I. ... He's from before the Republic had fallen, I beleive."

It would be interesting to see how Thrawn reacted to this piece of news.

With a wave of revulsion, albeit one only a Force-sensitive could have detected, leaking through even his enormous mental discipline. Externally, Thrawn showed only mild surprise, raising an eyebrow at the news. "Is that so? Are there other classically-trained Jedi aboard?"

"There are," Arha said neutrally, "much in the way of Jed-Eye these days, classically trained or no. They are family, each, to myself--as are my fellow pilots." All of which Arha would defend to her own death if necessary. That note was solid within her tone.

She had adopted all of them and they were her own.

Tycho looked back and forth between Arha and Thrawn, brows drawing together at her uncharacteristic reticence when talking about her beloved 'jed-eye'. He would ask her later what was going on. "In terms of those from our universe who have woken up from pod-sleep, there are more Jedi than anyone else," he offered carefully. "As for classically trained ... you'd have to ask them." Tycho shrugged. "I don't really know much about Jedi training."

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two officers walk in to the sensoriums | [OPEN]

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narrgghhhhh this tag took me forever to write X3;;;

Thrawn: screwing with your head since 27 BBY~

fffffffft

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