trans_9 | Battle of Lobnas Sord [Open]

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Battle of Lobnas Sord [Open]

Spaurh had found the sensoriums. At first she'd merely been curious, recreating a few places from memory, trying out the zero-gravity simulation. She'd even dabbled in the piloting program (and found that she was almost as good as she had been out of training). And then she'd recreated her flagship. It had been perfect - almost too perfect. The crew acted like the real crew. Her Chief-of-Staff was so real that she'd almost thought he'd materialized next to her. Of course, that's when that worming little thought had burrowed into her head - what if? Could the battle at the Sord have gone differently? Could she have saved more of her men, her ships?

Despite her rather smug exterior, she honestly had cared for those under her command, even if in some abstract way. And even though she'd achieved a "victory" of sorts at Lobnas, the defeat had still stung. She was supposed to be rebuilding her squadron. Instead she was here. So, at a loss, she'd replayed the battle in the Sensoriums. And then again. And then again. She lost less ships, she lost more ships. But every time the losses had been crippling to her little fleet. And now she was doing it again. The ship rocked from a nearby explosion, "Looks like the enemy is stupid..."

She had made it this far into the fight - the retreat from the Sord, breaking enemy contact. But just as the first time, they were following her. Her crew, her wonderfully trained crew were giving it there all. Reports continued to stream in from the fleet. Another ship had exploded. and then-

"Mine! Incoming!"

"Evasive-"

The ship shuddered for a moment from an impact and a frantic bridge officer begin yelling as information scrolled across his screen, "Impact! Our engines are disabled! Another-"

The ship shuddered underneath her again and then the deck plating seemed to rise to meet her as the entire room turned into blinding white light. It faded out a few moments later, leaving Spaurh standing on an empty bridge. The words "Ship destroyed" burned across the viewscreen. Spaurh bit back a curse and stalked back to her command chair and slumped, sulking. There had to be some way to get a better result out of the fight....

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"Whatever do you mean, Lieutenant?" The smirk hovering on her lips says that she knows exactly what Luly means.

"Besides, like I said, you're interesting. It's better than sitting around waiting all day. I have you to provide me with some entertainment from time to time."

"I thought you had Her Royal Highness for that kind of thing," Luly says, her eyes closed. "Besides, even a party animal like me can't be exciting all the time."

"Oh, she's fun to tease. You're entirely different."

She does not specify how.

"Different how?" Luly questions, her eyes opening again. She's finally looking more-or-less composed once more.

"Oh, you know. You're much more relaxed. You actually do things. Unlike the Deca-Commander."

Luly laughs. "She is so uptight," she says, leaning forward a little. "But I guess that comes with the territory of the royal... thing." She shrugs. "She needs to take a vacation from herself, though."

"She's an Abriel. If she ever stopped being uptight, the universe would end."

Spaurh laughs, "Oh, certainly..."

Luly smiles broadly. "I think she could go anonymous pretty easily... well, if you dyed her hair and made her wear something to cover those ears."

Yes, she's heard that story.

Spaurh laughs openly, putting a hand over her mouth, "So you've heard about that, I take it? It was... oh, it was perfect. An Abriel in that get up... and that dress."

"Well... For a couple of minutes I got her into wearing—I shouldn't tell you," Luly cuts herself off with. She looks kind of conspiratorial.

"Wearing what?" Spaurh's curiosity is piqued and she leans towards Luly, grinning, "Please, I have to hear this."

"It's one of the styles that's pretty popular where I'm from. Probably gone in—well, it might be gone already, actually, with the time I've spent here..."

She mumbles something and snaps her fingers, and is suddenly wearing a rather interesting (http://i28.tinypic.com/2iwaro0.jpg) brand of outfit. It's like somebody took combat armor or an EVA skinsuit, stripped down the weight and coverage, and then specifically twisted around the design for the sake of fashion.

Excuse Spaurh for a moment Luly, she's going to be helpless with laughter.

"It looked pretty nice on her," Luly says, folding her gloves arms behind her head. (The exposed upper thighs show some of those tattoos that spread across her.) "She kind of has the 'waif' thing going for her." This is from the perspective of a lander, of course. And a military one. Luly tends to consider even herself on the 'small' end for general mass.

Spaurh slowly recovers.

"Oh, it does look... interesting," she taps her chin thoughtfully, "but the idea of an Abriel in that... oh, that's delicious. That's fantastic."

She offers Luly a grin, "...she does, doesn't she?"

Spaurh, it seems, is rather more fully-figured than Lafiel.

Luly momentarily scratches a little at one of her exposed thighs. "It'll be nice to get to an inhabited planet, anyway. If that ever happens. I can get some actual clothes again." If this kind of thing is popular in the fashion of her world, one might wonder the sort of outfits she'd pick out... "Maybe a shopping trip. Enough women on board for it." Her eyes go a little blank as she ponders forcing Lafiel to try on some things.

Spaurh seems to brighten considerably at the mention of shopping, "Shopping? Yes, that would be fun. Be nice to do some business after so long away in the Forces... and I do need new clothes. Something that isn't alive, I think."

"Ugh, yes." Luly agrees with that sentiment quite a bit, what with the makeshift wrap thing she wears normally instead of a plantsuit. "...if there's anything that'll fit us, anyway. What if we get to a planet where everybody has eight legs and one arm or something?"

"Well, that wouldn't be any fun..." Spaurh pouts for a moment, "...although doing business with a completely alien species would be an experience."

That thought seems to perk her up.

"Yeah, but you'd probably spend most of the time figuring out how many blorgs you get to the snorkack and why a left-handed blozdonkit is more valuable than a right-handed one," Luly counters, fiddling with the zipper of her outfit and the amount of pressed-together cleavage it displays.

Spaurh leans back in her chair, tapping her hands together, "Well, that's half the fun, isn't it? The haggling, the discussion, the maneuvering..."

Spaurh's outfit remains the relatively modest uniform of the Space Forces. Apparently, she's choosing not to comment on Luly's beyond what's already been said.

Luly seems much more comfortable in the weird, selectively-revealing getup than a lot of humans--or Abh--would be. It's kind of a subtle, half-noticeable difference in her body language and regard for it: it's decoration to her, not covering just for the point of covering.

She grins a little. "Business stuff has never really been my thing, I guess. I'm pretty good at juggling requisition forms, I guess, but..." She shrugs.

That kind of thing is something that Spaurh does notice. She merely smiles a bit wider and crosses her legs at the ankle.

"I enjoy doing business. It's one of my few pleasures."

She continues to tap the tips of her fingers together in thought as she muses, "It keeps me entertained."

One might wonder if, despite her small nods to decency, she's ever quite entirely understood that other people don't think something approximating the same way.

"I thougt that's what you wanted me for," Luly says lightly, and mumbles something to herself. She snaps her fingers.

Spaurh will suddenly find herself in the same sort of outfit as the Nazzadi woman is wearing--some stylistic differences here and there and a mildly different cut, but still basically similar.

"Well-" Spaurh cuts herself off as she finds herself in a rather more breezy outfit. She blinks slowly, then arches a brow at Luly, "...is that really necessary? I'm perfectly happy with my uniform, you know."

She might be flustered, but she's done enough business over the years (along with being a fleet commander) to know how not to show it. The only sign of irritation is the slight frown on her face.

"...and as I was saying, I can't count on you being around all the time, can I?"

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