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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"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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