#lomar

"I am so proud of all of you." Captain Faro looked proud, Ilyana thought. Back straight, shoulders back, chin up. "The 96th showed the rest of these pretty boy captains how it's done, but the Chimaera's crew led the way. We nailed it, boys and girls."

Ilyana had to admit that Commodore Thrawn's tactics had worked - again - and Faro ran the ball hard. Still, it was hard to swallow that Captain Faro wasn't the one in command. When Ilyana was a shiny ensign, Faro picked her, Agral, Yve, and Lomar for the bridge of the Chimaera. Faro had her loyalty first. Faro gave everyone the praise they deserved and the critique they needed. Then grinned even wider.

"Orders from the top. Shore leave rotations to Coruscant for the winners of the Ascension Day War Games." And didn't everyone go bonkers at that. Even though she'd been at Royal Imperial, she stuck to campus, traveling with her cohort, and keeping as low a profile as a future bridge nerd could manage. Ilyana resisted the urge to pull out her datapad and look for pay grade friendly places. "Now, we need to talk about Coruscant and where you can and can't, should and shouldn't go."

They got the whole Mom-Talk. Including a rather graphic presentation about using prophy and how deep the shit one could be in if they returned with an STD. 

"There's been insurgent activity even in the Central District. Now, mainwatch goes down first, check in, be back in five days. Miss the shuttle and I personally cycle you out an airlock."

Ilyana ducked out after that. She'd be taking her boards for senior lieutenant, leaving very little time to party hard. Part of them had already been completed aboard the Chimaera - practical and exam - but not her oral defense of her work on the need for a more diverse weapons profile. With the Seppies (called Alliance to Restore the Republic) moving to smaller ships, the heavy, slower firing turbolasers were not enough. They were great against capital ships, heavy freighters, or anything big, armored, and slow, The InCom Corporation ships showing up were small and zippy, needing the faster response and firing time of your basic quad turbolaser. 

The shuttle down was packed, and Ilyana ended up wedged into a jumpseat before being disgorged onto the landing platform and processed through the Shore Authority. Her rental vehicle was waiting, and… well… she got what she paid for. It had very sincere inspection stickers, but she still popped the hood and ran basic pre-starts, much to the discomfiture of the clerk. Ilyana decided that since she had someone by the balls, a degree of twisting was in order and ended up with a Stellar F-131 instead of a poky old Skipper Basic Skycar. Much more oomph, much more room, and no empty bottles of prophy spray under the seat along with underwear of unknown origin.

Fancy undies, too. Pink lacy ones.

The BOQ was packed, but offered free parking and firstmeal. After an investigation of nearby restaurants, Ilyana loaded up a tray at a buffet advertising 'real meat' and went back to her cubicle-room. If the meat was real, it tasted a lot like her boots might if she gave them a good stewing. Ilyana checked her citations and then fell easily into her focus mode, rousing only at the insistent chirp of her commlink.

"Yana? If I study any more, I am going to jump out the window." Agral, he of the ever-growling stomach and reddest hair in the galaxy. "I know you went to a rent-a-wreck. Come pick up your study buddy and we'll get something to eat. I buy if you fly."

"Deal, but it has to be real food." 

"I'm the native son, Sparky. How about some real, juicy grilled meat for my little carnivore?"

"If it's not real meat, do I get to use you for target practice?" In truth, she was already getting her boots on. 'Meet me in the lobby in three minutes."

"It'll take that long for the turbolift to get here. See you downstairs."

The junior officers' hostel had admittedly seen better days - at least two centuries ago. Jashin did beat her there, and was suitably impressed with their conveyance. He had a list of grills, and yes they were going to sit down and eat like civilized people. It was as they passed the senior officers' hostel that Ilyana spotted some familiar faces on the pickup platform - a glance at Agral confirming it. Vanto, Hammerly, Lomar, Faro, and the Blue Face of Doom. 

Okay. Fine. She respected Thrawn, Hammerly and Vanto. Faro was her captain from day one. Odo Lomar came from the same year at Royal as both her and Agral. There was no way that they were going to get a cab with an alien with them, never mind that said alien was a hero and flag officer in the Imperial Navy.

"Do it," Agral sighed.

Ilyana stopped, threw it into reverse gear, and to utterly unnecessary screaming from Jashin, maneuvered back to the platform. "Relax, there's nobody coming."

The group on the platform stared, then stared harder as Ilyana keyed off the forcefield. "Good evening, sirs." Then she grinned at Vanto's shiny new insignia. "Go Commander Vanto! Congrats, sir."

"Thank you, Lieutenant. That was… some kind of driving right there."  

"We were on the way to go eat when we saw you. Can we give you a lift somewhere, or you could join us." Jashin's elbow hit her ribs. "Ow. We're going for real meat, though."

Thrawn and Vanto both lit up. 

"That sounds like a good idea," Faro said, "But it's going to be a tight fit." 

"Everyone will be in everyone's laps," was Thrawn's protest. 

"Well, Seven Swords is the closest grill, and their last seating is at twenty-two, sirs." Jashin scrolled his datapad. "How about it, Sparky? Can you get us there?"

"The shortest distance between two points is a firing solution," Ilyana replied. 

~

Yissa held on for dear life. It was like being in a full-immersion Grand Theft: Coruscant. Pyro seemed to operate on aiming and firing herself in the direction she wished to go. Thrawn was calm as ever, Faro visibly popped a couple of grey hairs, but she, Vanto, and Lomar all seemed fairly certain of being a juicy splotch on the side of a building somewhere. They pulled up at the grill in plenty of time and then were charged an astonishing amount for parking - at least they were until Thrawn got out of the aircar and the extortionate bastards realized they had a flag-rank officer on their doorstep. 

The smell of food made Yissa's belly rumble and that got her a little smile from Pyro. 

The overt hostility had eased, but the woman still held herself, Vanto, Marinith, and Thrawn at arm's length. That smile was actually pretty. Yissa had tried dropping a few hints, as Pyro was unpartnered and really kind of cute. The hints hadn't been ignored, it was as if Pyro simply didn't pick them up. Officers came from all over the Empire, so it could be cultural, or perhaps Pyro was simply unsocialized - because when it came to nerd ranking, Pyro was a very high-grade nerd.

The grill was possibly a little above her pay grade, but nobody ever went broke serving on an ISD and Yissa had plenty of margin for an extravagant dinner. They were led through the main salon to a plusher, quieter area with more senior officer uniforms in evidence. Yeah, definitely not a pitcher-and-platter establishment. Then again, Agral was from a wealthier merchant family - in the same league as Vanto's - and likely considered this affordable. He said he was treating Pyro because Pyro had the aircar and agreed to drive. 

Seating went in order of rank, with everyone to the right of their chairs and sitting only when the commodore and captain were seated. The menu's extravagance was astounding and a carnivore's delight. Ilyana ordered modest meal, only to have Agral override and chivvy her into an inch thick red-meat ribeye plus a baked and stuffed starchroot. Yissa went for surf-and-turf as did Agral, Lomar, and Faro. Vanto went for meat, with a side of meat, plus extra meat. Thrawn ordered the equivalent of a small roast nerf. 

Then he had the brass to preemptively pay the bill - and quell a minor mutiny. One captain at the table behind them murmured that it was the first time he'd ever seen junior officers object to a free feed. 

 "This establishment is closer to my pay grade than yours." Which was true, what with Yissa's dinner being a week's worth of credits. 

Oh, and worth every last one based on the appetizers alone.

In Yissa's opinion, a good restaurant was a quiet one. The food should be enough to ensure silence. Table chatter was limited to individual plans. Art for Thrawn and presumably for Vanto. Meeting with old friends for Faro. Yissa planned to discreetly party her doors off, but Lomar was being trapped with family visits and fending off a betrothal. To everyone's surprise, both Pyrondi and Agral were defending their theses before their promotion boards.   

"What are your theses?" Thrawn was on the scent. 

"The possibility of communication within the hyperlanes, including tracking other vessels," Agral replied.

That was in Yissa's wheelhouse, as well as Lomar's. To date, the only communications in hyperspace were visual. If you could see another ship, a version of tap code would be the limit of communication. Not even sensors worked past the outer hull when in hyperspace, not even to verify that the othership you could see was actually there. Agral referred to travel within the 'probability bubble' - apparently traveling in a hyperlane meant entering a bubble that moved between one set of coordinates and another. There was also some dispute as to the nature of the hyperlanes themselves - constructed or naturally occurring? 

This was dinner chit-chat she could get behind.     

Pyro was surprisingly keen on hyperspace theory, but her thesis was naturally about weaponry - and one surprisingly critical about overreliance on heavier, slower turbolaser batteries over a more diverse weapons array. Yissa could all but see other officers bending ears at the resulting debate between the outspoken lieutenant and her commanding officers. Faro was firmly on Pyro's side, having been through the Clone Wars and all the droid armaments, Thrawn put forth his favor of better TIE fighters, but allowed that a more diverse weapons array served the offensive and  capabilities of the ship. And from there Pyro dove into a variety of weapons that could - should - be deployed before a very determined throat-clearing from the next table.    

Oh. Shit.

Admiral Motti. The smarmiest of smarmy bastards about to smarm, and three other members of the High Command that she recognized from newsholo shows. And Andres Sienar who looked far too interested in Pyro for Yissa's comfort.

"My own argument, Admiral Motti, coming out of the mouth of a baby lieutenant."

"Full disclosure, sirs. I worked at the Sienar Armaments and Fleet Systems main industrial  facility on Corulag for four years," Pyrondi stated. "I was in the Imperial Youth Corps at the time."  

And the conversation - Pyrondi could not be said to argue with her superior officers while defending her position - was off and running from there. Motti was definitely a 'bigger is better' guy, but Pyro was an active, serving weapons officer, and one who had helped to take first place in the games. It was hard to argue against the winners. If Pyro stood her ground like this for her boards, then Senior Lieutenant rank was hers.

The night did not end after caf, pastries, and arguments, and a bit of Yissa was meanly glad that the ranking wankers had to wait for transport while Pyrondi went to the valet and got her rent-a-wreck back. There was a minor dustup over driving. None of them were drinking with dinner, but Thrawn moved to preempt the driver's station. Pyro claimed it was against protocol for a flag rank officer to chauffeur his subordinates. When the dust settled, Vanto was driving as Thrawn's aide, and would give the vehicle back at the admiralty accommodation. 

Vanto grew up flying cargo donks and freighters. Yissa almost wished for Pyrondi to be back in the driver's position. He flew like a pirate. Even Thrawn took a white-knuckle grip on his seat. At least nobody yarked their dinner. Yissa and Lomar went back to their rooms while Thrawn, Vanto, and Faro went to the rarefied heights of the Admiralty Tower. 

Back in her room, she changed into sleepwear and flicked on the holonet, looking for some new series to buy. Holonet was sketchy and inconsistent, so the crews of the Seventh always brought back entertainment to while away off-duty hours. At some point she dozed off, awaking to the sound of an urgent voice-

"-the junior officers' hostel is being evacuated as we speak, with close to two thousand naval personnel from ensigns to senior lieutenants being evacuated for unknow- There's blaster fire on one- no, two of the floors facing the street. It's unknown if it's due to insurgents and-"

Yissa pulled her trousers on over her shorts as her comlink chipred. 

"I know. I saw. I'm on my way there." She told Lomar. "Tell Mom and Dad."  

~

Ilyana hated bugs. Even some of the insectoid sentient species gave her the whim-whams. Right now she was in her worst nightmare. Duct mites. Why did it have to be ducked mites? Blind, six legged, a ghastly grey-white, and carnivorous, they were from the deep lower levels of Coruscant, and now they were flooding out of ventilation ducts all over the hostel. 

Mite was not a statement on their size, either. 

She and the officers on her floor were shooting them, making their way to the emergency drop tube that would land them safely on the platform below. Dimly, from an open door with a half-eaten body jamming it open she heard-

"We are told that this is a hazmat situation, not an infestation of vermin. The sources were in error and likely suffering delusions from too many exotic intoxicants."

Oh. FUCK her. Junior officers were painted with the same sprayer as academy students. The only thing saving someone's ass was the fact that duct mites would burn to death rather than go outside. Temperature fluctuations killed them as handily as a blaster. And just before she and agral hit the drop tube, that's what Ilyana did, hooking her fingers under the headplate and jumping after her buddy. There was a keen pang of leaving her duffel behind, but her datapads were both secure in her undershirt.

~

The hologenic chaos that the networks were expecting did not materialize. These were naval officers, not a bunch of pampered civvies. Faro began to muster her officers from the moment her feet hit the platform.

"Chimaera officers, to me!"            

Other captains and commanders were arriving and bulling through the district security forces to round up their juniors, Thrawn's bellow alternated with hers, While Hammerly, Lomar, and Vanto played herders, getting everyone in one place. 

"Any sign of Agral or Pyrondi?" Karyn asked a pale ensign who's knees were shaking. 

"No, ma'am. They were up on floor 2314, I was down on 1609." 

"Drop tube coming down!"

"Is everyone out?"

"No, by headcount there's more than a thousand missing. Granted, some might still be out making bad adult decisions-"

"What was the cause of the evacuation?" Thrawn asked.

The evacked officers answer was duct mites, but the ISB supervisor's reason was hazmat, causing a mass hallucination of duct mites. One did not call 'bullshit' on an ISB supervisor and expect to have a career left afterward, or indeed, much lifetime left.  The droptube slowed, then let a cluster of junior lieutenants onto the platform. Karyn sprinted away as soon as she saw Agral's copper-bright hair. 

"Agral, is Pyrondi with- Don't get snippy, Pyrondi, you're an inch taller than Captain Piett, we could lose you under a table somewhere and what in the name of bright stars-" A duct mite, still smoking hanging by the headplate in her left hand. "Throw that away right this minute, it's disgusting!"

"It's evidence, ma'am. If this place is so lax in maintenance practices, then everyone needs to know it." Pyro argued back. The woman could take orders, but Karyn sensed a sticking point. "I'm not going to let some prissy bitch in a four-figure frock shit-talk my fellow officers. Some of them were dinner for these things."       

The ISB supervisor was speaking with the aforementioned prissy bitch, assuring her and the other press fleas that it was all some nebulous 'gas' - possibly introduced by insurgents - that caused hallucinations in the junior officers billeted there. And Karyn felt a certainty settle into her bones as she turned to Pyrondi only to see her combat face on, a firing solution already in place and her arm swinging. In slow motion, she watched the duct mite arc gracefully over the heads of the people in front of them and fly into camera range.          

Oh, as usual, shit. 

Several things happened at once. One of them was the insect splatting all over the ISB's white tunic and the reporter's expensive dress - why would you cover a potential disaster in heels and a party dress? The next one was a blue hand grabbing Pyro and yanking her backwards into the crowd. Another was Hammerly and Lomar moving at high speed to corral Agrall, who was getting ready to launch himself at the supervisor, and Vanto taking her arm and murmuring, "This way, ma'am." in that soft drawl just as all hell broke loose.