[EM0 - Military Dock] Reville

[Lt. Tyber Rook]

0600

The sun gleamed off the shined chromium plates of his beskar'gam. His eyes narrowed, looking through the t-visor of his helmet as the goggles filtered the sunlight down to appropriate levels. The sound of his jetpack thrusters were dulled by his helmet. The HUD bringing up the approach vector to the dock.

Tyber landed, cutting the thrusters, as the small detatchment of troops marched up the ramp, awaiting the arrival of the Ambassador's shuttle. He stood at parade rest, arms folded behind his waist, as the troopers got in line.

He stood out like a sore thumb, his custom armor a stark contrast to the generic plastoid of the rank and file. As the shuttle landed, and ramp lowered, he brought his right hand up to a crisp salute.

"Troopers, ten hut! Colonel on deck!"

[Col. Hala Moraal]

The colonel gathered up her datapad and cap, tucking the former under her arm, before she stood up. The shuttle wasn't much more than a military transport painted in the color scheme and insignia of the Empire. She rose and smoothed out her full dress uniform before striding out of the shuttle, her polished boots clicking faintly in the open air down the metal ramp. She walked evenly until she came in front of the lead officer, drew herself up, and returned the salute. There was a soft whirring from her right arm as it raised, then lowered. She then removed the datapad from underneath her arm, offering it to the lieutenant so he could view her orders if he wished.

"At ease," she said, cheating her head to the side slightly so the words would also be addressed to the guard behind the Mandalorian. Her eyes blinked once and turned back to the officer.

"You are Lieutenant Tyber Rook, correct?" she said, her lips setting into a polite half smile, letting her gaze scan the armor she had familiarized herself with from personnel files.

[Lt. Tyber Rook]

The salute dropped, the man returning to parade rest, as the troopers did the same. "Yes ma'am. Junior Grade. Special Forces. If you forgive the personal note, I would like to say it's an honor to receive you." He took the offered datapad, as was customary.

He had already memorized the itinerary and orders. He didn't need to make a show of looking them over. "General Unjin has already requisitioned our living arrangements while on detail here." His helmeted gaze fell on hers. He was grateful that it masked his anxiousness.

It isn't every day you come face to face with a hero and reason why you applied to the Academy.

"I trust the flight in was calm?"

[Col. Hala Moraal]

"Nothing to complain about," she said with a shrug. "Turbulence was minimal, and we came in with a pretty shallow approach vector so the gees were pretty light too."

She glanced downwards to look at the datapad, then extended her right hand to take it back. She removed the datacard with her orders and slipped it into a pouch, tucking the pad back beneath her arm. With a slight nod, she looked beyond him again and lifted her voice slightly.

"Troo-pers," she said, voice falling into parade cadence comfortably, "Di-smissed!"

Her smile grew slightly warmer and contented, and her gaze lingered on the guard for another pair of seconds before it returned to Tyber.

"Thank you for working with the general to get our workspace settled. Have you already been to the mess hall for breakfast yet?"

[Lt. Tyber Rook]

"No, ma'am. I dont like to meet my superiors on a full stomach." His voice slightly mechanized through the helmet, lending itself a certain impersonalness, though the Concordian accent could never be masked.

At the sound of the bootheels marching away, the officer reached up, pulling his helmet off, followed by slipping the body glove headsleeve back. The loose curls fell forward across his brow, as he brought the helmet beneath his left arm, cradled.

"The quarters aren't spacious. But they're spartan. Welcome to Ziost, Colonel." There was an easy smirk, but he quickly fell back to regulation indifference. "Officer's mess is this way, if you'd like some chow before your meeting with the General."

[Col. Hala Moraal]

She studied the face, comparing it to the one in the file displayed most prominently - taken during his enlistment. Then she gave him a slightly conspiratorial smile and leaned in slightly.

"At the very least, a cup of caff would be nice. A decent cup. The Navy doesn't have anything that hasn't been placed in vacuum containers and stored in a deep freezer. And I have it on good authority that they always use the oldest beans first, even if they'd last for years like that."

[Lt. Tyber Rook]

"I always heard they keep the same brewpot on at all times. Says it builds flavor." He chuckled a bit, before extending an arm out in direction, beginning to escort her. "I can assure you the caff here is decent. Especially now, considering the brouhaha coming in as well." His heels clicked against the durasteel plating of the dock, walking with his CO.

He tried not to focus on the fact that she had studied him. After all, he had seen his file photo. Six years in service certainly made a difference.

As they walked, the sound of servos accompanied his movements, the strength enhancement of the armor was anything but subtle.

"Intelligence reports still deem the Eagle threat as low level. Even with their latest proclamation."

[Ensign Pierce]

In the Mess there was a table of rowdy looking soldiers that were easily identified as Bex company. One of them noticing the Colonel enter stood immediately and said in a deep gravelly tone, “Officer on deck!”

He was large, nearly 2 meters in height and broad of shoulders, thick muscular build that strained the regulation uniform. The soldiers got to their feet quickly, though not with the crispness one would expect of an Imperial soldier.

[Col. Hala Moraal]

She gave him a quick nod and began moving in the indicated direction.

"According to the reports I've seen, everything is currently rated a low threat with the exception of the current rash of narcotics running through some of the less central systems," she said, with a thoughtful frown.

"Does something seem notable about the Eagle to you right now, or are you otherwise privy to some source?"

When they entered the mess and greeted, she gave another nod to the soldier who had made the announcement before turning to the nearby soldiers, replying with a crisp, "As you were."

[Ensign Pierce]

“Oy, you lot heard the Colonel, as you were you sorry shites,” he said gruffly and then took his seat.

[Lt. Tyber Rook]

"No, ma'am. My ears on the ground have been silent, so far. Just a personal distaste for terrorists. Of all threats to order, they are the most insidious, because they can infect even the most patriotic supporter." He spoke quietly as they entered the mess. When the Ensign called the Mess to attention, instinct kicked and he stood taller, a bit more to attention.

He took an account of the Company. Making a mental note, but the Colonel had already spoken. Scuttlebug had already made it's rounds.

He wasn't one to judge, though. After all, one look as his file, and there was a list of demerits and transgressions. Not all of them actually earned or deserved.

[Col. Hala Moraal]

"I agree Lieutenant, those people are dangerous. The ideas, though, are even more problematic. Defeating those are of even greater importance, and greater priority. The body of a terrorist is not the infectious portion. Besides," she said with a frown, "I dislike creating martyrs."

She went over to the sideboard and poured two cups of caff, handing one to Tyber when she returned.

"Would you like to join the ensign?" she asked, cocking an eyebrow while tilting her head towards the large human.

[Lt. Tyber Rook]

"Ma'am. I specialize in the acquisition and live retrieval of assests and targets of interests. Martyrs are antathema to my MO." There was a certain pride to his words, before thanking the Colonel as the cup was handed to him.

"Bex Company had some stories. I am not opposed if you aren't, Colonel."

[Col. Hala Moraal]

"Then I am eager to witness your craftsmanship Lieutenant," she said while her smile brightened, "and look forward to working with you."

She turned her attention to Pierce.

"Ensign, do you mind if we join you?"

[Ensign Pierce]

She turned her attention to Pierce.

"Ensign, do you mind if we join you?"

He nodded and smiled roughly and said, “Have at it ma’am… this lot don’t get this nice. What brings you to Ziost, you don’t look like the normal lot of Officers around here… else you wouldn’t be sitting with Bex.”

[Lt. Tyber Rook]

"Security Operations, Ensign. What with all the VIPs in system, Brass wants to make sure all hands are on deck and that everything is as smooth as possible." The Mandalorian spoke up, holding his mug in his hand, setting the helmet down on the table as they sat. A smile, noting the company.

"Gives a bit of leeway outside of normal officers. I'm sure the rumors are exaggerated, after all, we all serve to defend the Empire."

[Ensign Pierce]

“Well I ain’t complainin’ no ways, so welcome to you both,” he replied roughly and continued eating.

[Col. Hala Moraal]

"What exactly does a 'normal' officer look like anyway? Back in boot, I used to think it was the only person on base who was well dressed, didn't raise their voice, and never got in trouble. Then one by one, those preconceptions melted. Now? Officers just seem like people. More authority, more responsibility. And I suppose a slightly lower chance of needing to sleep in a field sleeping bag with the power cell running low on charge."

She smiled thoughtfully before taking her first grateful sip from her mug.

[Ensign Pierce]

Pierce didn't have a good answer so he looked at the Mandalorian to see if he had a response.

[Lt. Tyber Rook]

Tyber thoughtfully drank from his caff, then raised an eyebrow at the good colonel's comment. "Wait. You got a sleeping bag?" A slight moment to break the tension, and then he cleared his throat.

"But in all seriousness, the Ensign might be referring to the fact that most officers don't wear cultural heritage armor, or were literal poster children for recruitment drives early on in their careers." Another sip from his caff.

"Speaking freely, ma'am, a lot of officers tend to be more connected and scheming, so there's a certain picture in one's head when someone says 'Imperial Officer'." He looked to the Colonel.

"Comes with an official 'Imperial Sneer', too."