#admiral sartan

[contentment-of-cats]

Fic Bit: The Seventh

In the days before the Clone Wars, the Outrider Fleet was a confederation of system and sector fleets that banded together to combat smugglers, pirates, and slavers at the edge of the Outer Rim and Wild Space. Brought under the umbrella of the GAR, it soon became the Seventh Fleet. It was generally viewed as a destination posting for the odd, the inconveniently brilliant, the politically unastute, and those square pegs who stubbornly refused to be whittled, hammered, or lathed into round holes.

Under the Empire, the Seventh remained a 'pocket fleet' - still assigned to the out-fars, and often a place where female officers, enlisted, specialists, and technicians ended up. It was the place to end a career, not begin one, and if one failed to adapt to the isolation, long hyperpace jumps, and frequent action - a place to end one's life and ensure one's dependents survivor benefits. Anyone caught being exceptional in the Seventh was usually reposted to a better positioned fleet, thus to hopefully wreath their captain in glory. It was not until the transfer and subsequent - if slow - promotion of Karyn Faro that a change began to manifest.

Faro came into the GAR from the Corellian Defense Force not as an officer, but as a Gunner's Mate and Junior Sergeant. As the clones were retired from service, officers became in short supply, so Karyn was given a choice - demobilization, re-enlistment in the Corellian SecFor, Merchant Services, or OCS at Corulag. It took her two years to complete a three-year course, and then go to the ass end of the ass end of nowhere as an ensign in the Seventh, junior weapons officer, and with about as much respect from the bridge crew as the ship's tooka. When the Chimaera was folded into the 96th Task Force, then-commodore Sartan noted that Faro had a knack for winning the 'how long will they last?' pool. The junior officer also was highly accurate in winning the pot for the dead pool. Faro's picks had staying power, and were generally skilled officers who fell off-center in the psych exams.

Sartan kept her close, letting her look over the cadets and transfers, her uncanny ability allowing him to staff up, and then spread out to the other ships in the task force. Though a lowly commodore, Faro's picks began to filter into the Seventh - cementing the oddball reputation, but also pulling victories out of their asses. The admiralty and IHC didn't give a high-flying fuck how those victories were achieved, as long as they were achieved. He assumed command of the Seventh as Fleet Admiral, keeping the Chimaera as his flagship and finally promoting Faro to full commander. The selection of naval officers and crew became her open job.

If anyone suspected just a breath of Force ability, they kept it off their tongue. This was the situation that Thrawn stepped into, and in front of a wall of resentment that Faro didn't get the captaincy. Sartan chucked up a few prayers that the 96th wouldn't give him more trouble, and sent them on their way to Ibriho - a little run against a pirate fleet pushing old Venators - and thought not for the first time that he was getting too old for this shit.

[deathgatesideblog]

Marit and kids: --I feel like she’s gonna end up getting along better with a LOT of the kids, especially when they first come to live with them --Like she’s gonna be super awkward because kids but she’s also gonna be the normal one who’s like “yes, I know Haplo and Alfred are weird as hell, they’re harmless I promise they just want to take care of you” --Alfred’s going to want to absolutely coddle them (probably so will Haplo, though he won’t give in as much) and the kids will be super freaked out and Marit will boss them around and give them chores and stuff and they’ll be like “finally someone that makes SENSE” --But I feel like she’ll also become good at giving the Alfred Talk. You know, the one that goes “yeah he’s a Sartan and we all kinda hate the Sartan but you get used to him and you probably shouldn’t be mean to him, go vent that all out on Ramu” --I think the kids will really admire her and want to impress her and crave her attention like kids do with their parents and she won’t really know what to do with that.

[rivalgates]

Excerpt, "Quest"

It was a cold and dreary night.  Even for the rainy season in the subtropical nation of Sartan, the air was damp and chill.  It was the sort of night when children volunteered to stay indoors and pets refused to set foot out of the house.  Such were the conditions in Fraylic, the capitol city of Sartan, when a lone figure strode boldly down the center of the street in the area known as Old Town.  In the largest city in the medieval world of Lavacia, the original stone boulevards had decayed over time leaving grooves, cavities and numerous signs of neglect.  The buildings bordering the street fared no better.  Time and lack of maintenance had left the once-pristine neighborhood in a dilapidated state, giving shelter to those without means and those without conscience.

The fine mist had settled into an icy fog which clung to the ground and swirled as the figure passed its folds.  Even in the poor lighting, it was clear that the individual was a markedly tall man, with broad shoulders and a thick build.  A gray woolen cloak covered him from the top of his head to his feet and was buttoned closed in the front.  The sound of his boot heels unabashedly striking the ground was the only sound, save for the trickle of water running down the sides of the street.  Then a second set of heels sounded on the road ahead of him.  Moments later, a man of normal stature skulked into the street and came to a stop at its center, where he turned toward the oncoming person and folded his arms.

The first man came to a stop not more than ten paces away from the one blocking his path. Then he spoke. “You certainly chose an obscure place for this transaction, Mr…”

The second man answered. “My name is of no consequence here, but yours is Dirk Grithinshield. I suppose you would have preferred to do business in your sizable store in the merchant district, but I find this setting more to my liking.”

“Your odds are better as well,” Dirk commented dryly.  “You can tell your men surrounding me to come out.  We are alone, and I already know where they are hiding.”

“You are mistaken,” the man said halfheartedly.  “The agreement was that we each come alone.”

“Indeed, that was the arrangement,” Dirk confirmed.  “You can tell that I have not been followed.  However, I can see the breath of your men hiding there, there, there and there.”  Dirk pointed at places in a circle around him.  “It makes me wonder if you have kept your word on the rest of our bargain.”

The man waved, then four armed men stepped out of the shadows and moved closer to Dirk. “You’re observant, Grithinshield.  I’ll give you that.”

Dirk sighed in a tone that suggested that the situation did not surprise him in the least.  “I could inquire further about your expected deception, but I want this transaction to be over with as soon as possible.  Do you have the key I seek?”

The man was angered that his actions were anticipated and that they had not intimidated Dirk as he had hoped.  “I have the key, but I didn’t hear any coins jingle as you were walking.  That makes me wonder if you have the money on which we agreed.”

“I am quite prepared for you, good sir,” Dirk answered.  “The money is close by. Now, since you appear to have me at a disadvantage, and I am the one who has kept his word so far, you will show me what I am purchasing first.”

The man scowled and produced a golden key from his pocket.  Begrudgingly, he tossed it to the waiting right hand of Grithinshield. Dirk ran his fingers down its length and looked at its handle in detail.  Then, he tossed it back to the man who caught it in midair in an effort to defend his face.

“That is a poor attempt at a forgery,” Dirk said sternly.  “Not only is the key warped, but you can see a glimpse of the iron underneath, where it was held as it was dipped in a coating.  The key I seek is solid gold.  Your credibility is dwindling by the moment and I am mildly annoyed.  Show me the real key, if you have it, or you will not see a single gold pharring.”

The man became angrier, but not being a fool, he had to give Dirk his due.    Reaching into another pocket, he produced a different key and threw it to Dirk as his men closed their range.  Dirk again caught it with his right hand and looked it over as before.  He spent more time examining it than the first key.  “Exquisite,” he noted.  “The craftsmanship is as fine as any forgery I have ever seen.  Whoever made this for you should be commended.”

The man became furious.  “Are you calling me a liar?”

Dirk tossed the key back and answered.  “You just heard every word I said and at no time did I call you a liar.  I merely stated that this is a forgery.  The good news is that it is an exact casting of the original key.  That means you or whoever made that have or had the real one at some point.  My guess is that you have at least one more buyer in line and that you seek to maximize your profits.  It is a bold plan, but one which will not work on me.  Now I will ask you one last time.  Toss me the real key or I leave and you get nothing.”

The man began to curse to himself, as Dirk had clearly seen through the ruse.  After he found himself exasperated, he removed a gold chain from around his neck.  A key hung from its links.  With disgust, he threw the chain to Dirk.

After only moments of examination, Dirk proclaimed, “This is what I came to purchase.  You have finally held up your end of the bargain.  So I shall hold up mine.  Among the refuse on the right side of the street, is a sack with your money under an old crate.  I scouted this area earlier and placed it there.”

A quick search by the nearest man found a hefty sack filled with gold.  The man nodded the substantiation of the sum to his leader.  “It seems you have lived up to your end of our accord.  I can see how you earned the nickname of ‘The Honest Trader.’”

“Such titles are hard to achieve and even harder to maintain,” Grithinshield noted.  “All the fine words in the world will not make up for you having a reputation for impropriety.  We made an arrangement and you eventually fulfilled your part, so I fulfilled mine.  Our business is concluded.  I bid you good night.”

The leader drew his sword.  “If only it were that simple Grithinshield.  You’re a smart one, there’s no denying that.  For example, you were right that there is another buyer interested in that key.  Since I have your money now, I will be requesting you return the chain and key to me.  My admiration for your abilities compels me to let you live if you do so.  But in the end, why should I be satisfied with one fortune when I can sell the same item twice and have two hoards?  You were foolish to come here alone. 

[contentment-of-cats]

Fic bit: An Axxilan's Progress: Political Correction

In the Empire there is a way to communicate the middle digit salute without actually making the gesture or otherwise conveying one's displeasure to those who might make one's career or life hard or end one's career or life altogether. Simply deny whatever request is forthcoming and append, 'Thank you and long live the Empire' to said denial. This makes it politically impossible to complain, though the request may be discreetly refiled at a later time. Likewise, one cannot open the request with the salutation lest one's motives for the request come under scrutiny. There's a line, sometimes invisible, always moving in relation to a variety of factors, and watching one's step is a survival skill.

Sartan of the Seventh is certainly a canny man, and uses such considerations and tactics to straight-arm Piett's (frequently) requested transfer to Death Squadron. Also in play are the rules and regs of the Imperial navy governing such transfers. The transfer is for a particular person at a particular rank from current post at current duty station to new post at new duty station. It stands to reason that as much as Vader wants Piett on the bridge of his warship, Sartan just as much desires to keep Piett where he is, doing what he does, and has worked out a strategy to keep it ticking over. This results in a game of tooka and skitteri between the Seventh on the Outer Rim and the First Fleet of which Death Squadron is a part. Sartan demotes, promotes, disciplines, medicals, and moves Piett around the Seventh at will.

Send the request to the White Widow? Piett's on the Chokehold.

Ask for the expedited transfer of Captain Piett? S.CP. Piett is now Senior Lieutenant Piett due to decking his admiral.

Ask for the transfer of S.LT. Piett? He's been promoted to Commander. Please resubmit with correct information re rank and station. Thank you and long live the Empire.

In other worse, fuck you very much in multiple positions with no lube and fuck the hoppalong you rode in on. He's mine and I am keeping him. Flit off.

Vader might use his regular tactics, but there are other issues to consider. Sartan, as mentioned, is a canny man. He is also Seswennan, meaning he's related to half of the IHC by blood and that includes the head of COMPNOR. He is related by marriage to the Tagges. During the ascent of the CIS, he was instrumental in bringing the independent sectors and their armed forces in on the side of the GAR. He worked closely with General Anakin Skywalker, and both were men who went out and Got It Done. Vader and the Jedi can agree on two things - distaste for sand and an appreciation for those who shut the fuck up and Get It Done. The Outer Rim and Wild Space need Sartan.

While an operation is under way to obtain Piett via good old-fasioned skulduggery, violence, and abduction, Sartan will crater the works out of pique. Vader just has to put something on offer that Sartan wants more than Piett.

And he is certain he knows just what... or who... that is.

"Get me Grand Moff Tarkin."

[contentment-of-cats]

An Axxilan's Progress: Ripple

No action takes place in a containment field. Death Squadron was the post of choice for ambitious officers. Nobody lacking five years of naval experience even got assigned. The qualifications for senior staff were stringent, but invariably someone knows someone else and they end up being piped aboard anyway. The IHC also found it an expedient way to remove certain officers without the awkwardness of inquests. However, there were highly competent and effective officers who would do anything to avoid being reassigned.

Sartan was willing to take a punch as often as needed to keep his Flag Captain, demoting or promoting as needed. When he put on the white of a Grand Admiral, he was nursing a real beauty mark of a black eye as every single time Fir Piett poked his nose above lieutenant commander there was a communique from personnel demanding his transfer. Moreover, other officers were starting to copy the methodology. Most flags and not a few captains if gathered in one place would appear to have been in a dive bar brawl. If one wanted to keep one's best officers, a little pain was involved. The 'Piett Maneuver' began to spread into the Army and it really could not be allowed to stand.

Vader consulted with Tarkin. The man fully approved of Piett's focus on piracy and smuggling along his methods of dealing with them. For a man of Tarkin's ambition, he was quite clear-headed about what he termed 'strategic demotions.'

"There is a general sentiment, my Lord, that Death Squadron is for gloryhounds, the well-connected, and the determined ladder climber." Captain Veers was a man to speak his mind. "They are using the ICMJ to get what they want. The flags want to keep their best men, the best men want to stay where they feel they are of better use."

"And since the regs state that a transfer order must include current rank, the admirals are playing a shell game. The Grand Admirals are a good idea, but they are canny men, focused on results, and are mentoring like-minded men." Tarkin added, "Piett is willing to be demoted to zygote if it will gain him what he wants, or even to be discharged so that he can go back to chasing pirates around the Hegemony."

It was agreed. All they had to do was wait and Veers would handle the ops. Ascension Week meant a lot of celebrating, and Piett was reliably going to be at an establishment near Royal Imperial Academy called Dorto's. Buckets of beer, platters of meat for Outer Rim diets, and dancing - frequently on the floor, but also on top of the bar and tables as well.

Veers had heard the descriptive 'kicking and screaming' to characterize extreme reluctance, but never through he'd actually get to see it. In addition to kicking and screaming there was also biting and stabbing. Lots of stabbing. Where did all those knives come from? And that holdout blaster? And the ghostpepper bomb? Then there was the doonium pipe and highly effective blows to the knees.

Short was also angry along with fast and Max earned four broken toes, but brought in his man.

[contentment-of-cats]

An Axxilan's progress

When he joined the Axxilan Defense Forces, it was not out of any great sense of patriotism. Axxila had been mined over two thousand years to the point where entire continents were unstable, the air so polluted that you needed a full resp-suit to breathe. It was a ghost world, and Firmus' da's dying wish had been to see his son off of it.

It was the pirates who insured that Pollus Piett did not even get to die of the disease that was killing him, peaceful and quiet in a bed and tranked to the eyeballs. Instead they let him cough out his lungs in a bloody foam, in agony, unable to dodge the kicks and blows. Then Firmus took a A510 shattering cannon and blew those ships and their crews to smithereens. He ordered no quarter, kill them as you find them, and take the heads of living and dead. The Axillan Defense Fleet was born.

The pirates did not take kindly to this development but Firmus was shortly taking ships, cargoes, and many heads. He despised the Republic openly for not protecting the worlds that supplied it, lavishing resources on the Core and Colonial worlds while ignoring the Expansion, Mid and Outer Rim worlds. The Cuitric Hegemony was openly Separatist, and Republic took some notable beatings from their Hegemony forces, which by that time included Captain Piett. Eventually, Piett and other officers were convinced by Anakin Skywalker and Pensar Luc to turn on the Hegemony and CIS. Piett and nine other captains brought down the Hegemony in three weeks and in a furious eight-month campaign defeated the CIS. He and the others declined to join the GAR, though in Firmus' case he did not meet the minimum height requirement - being too short by four inches.

At the start of the New Order, Luc was appointed as moff of the Sector and he created the Axillan Antipirate Fleet with loyal, steady officers to keep the peace inside the Hegemony's borders. The Imperial Navy made an offer to Line Captain Piett, who declined by pointing out that he was still short. The Naval Chiefs convened, and for good measure dropped the height requirement to five feet nothing.

Piett did not bite, but went about quietly doing his job.

The Empire eventually moved to incorporate and standardize the AAF into the Imperial Navy, thus getting him anyway. At first, Piett served in the 7th Fleet aboard his Arquetiens-class Chokehold under then-Rear Admiral Sartan. It was his speed, chasing down pirates and smugglers, and he was damned good at it. Shortly he moved up to command of one of the first Imperial-class to come of the ring at Kuat, and named her the Enforcer. Then, for reasons unknown, Death Squadron came knocking. That particular task force already had a reputation of running through officers the way the mess ran through pit'za on Zhellday.

Piett declined and when that wasn't good enough asked Sartan what would ensure that the 'no' would stick.

"Well, my lad, short of punching your admiral in the jaw-"

"Sir, I am being perfectly serious here."

"I know, Captain. Now. As I was saying." The man caught Piett with his gaze and slowly tapped one gloved finger on his jaw. "Short of punching your admiral OOF!"

The sound of a body hitting the floor is like nothing else. Piett was gently cuffed and taken away, pled guilty, and was demoted to lieutenant commander - but Sartan still kept him in the hot seat on the White Widow. Death Squadron was informed of Piett's demotion and unavailability as he was now demoted below the requested rank. Thank you and long live the Empire.

That could have been the end of it, but of course it wasn't.

[contentment-of-cats]

WiP bit from Bridge Nerd Rising

Jashin and Sparky stood at attention in front of a row of flag officers, Grand Admiral Sartan handing two insignia boxes to Thrawn and he in turn handed them to Faro. Truthfully, after defending their theses it was almost too much to crawl back to the suite to fall over and sleep. The decision came down when they'd passed out watching Hammerly and Vanto play Pirates and Privateers. Thrawn only woke them for dinner, sent them to bed after and told them in the morning. The promotion ceremony would be held the next day on the steps of the Emperor's own palace. Granted, they were not there for a valor promotion, but for work in their primary NOS - naval operations specialties. They were very much just faces in the crowd, stepping forward only when Faro nodded. 

With nearly 9,000 officers aboard the Chimaera, they were also not the only ones Thrawn, Marinith, and Faro had to promote. 

First came the new cap insignia, the removal of the junior lieutenant plate and the mounting of the new one on the magnetic points in the uniform. You could be blown to bits, but your rank plate would be in place unless you were disintegrated. Next were their cylinders, the old ones removed and the newly programmed ones replacing them. He and Sparky came to attention, then stepped back into formation until everyone was done. Motti stepped forward and spoke.

"For valor and expertise, for your lives of dedication and sacrifice, the Empire is grateful. Long may you serve."

Thank the bright stars that he wasn't going to go on. The crowd of newly promoted officers roared back, "Long may you serve!"

Kepis flew into the air and some of the senior officers broke their stone faces enough to chuckle. The crowd broke up and it was a pretty good mess for the Chimaerans and Seventh Fleeters to make their way back to their commanding officers. His family was still up in the stands, and waving to them. Sparky'd been his buddy since the first year at Royal and the Agrals accepted her as another Corellian. The officers bunched around their superiors who had a Look on their faces.

"We're going to meet Emperor Palpatine. Just the promoted officers from our task force." Faro called everyone to order. "You come to attention and bow your head, you keep it bowed unless you are spoken to. You address the emperor as 'Your Majesty.' You fuck up and I kill you."

"Faro."

"Yes, sir. You fuck up and I won't kill you, I will make you wish you were dead, then I transfer your ass to Death Squadron."