RPlog:Back In the Fold

Observation Deck -I2SD Predator-

The sprawling deck is littered with several 'privacy' areas and recessed booths equipped with seating arranged to focus a person's attention on the yawning view ports opening onto the star-spattered depths of space. Extending outward from the top of the Command Tower, the observation deck provides one of the most spectacular views of the ship. Whether the vessel is in hyperspace or realspace, the mammoth hull of the ship, mottled by the numerous weapons embankments that it supports, stretches out before a viewer. A raised dais in the center of the room supports a low pedastal with a quadrasteel plaque resting on it. The plaque reads:

Kuat Drive Yards Imperator II-class Star Destroyer "Predator"

-=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Spiers

=> Lanil

=> Dareus

The doors to the observation deck open up, and Dareus walks in, finally back in uniform, somewhat that is. His flightsuit is half down, tied around his waist, so his upper section is only covered by his tshirt. There is an obvious bulge on his upper right arm, where some bandages can be seen easily from the end of his tshirt sleeves. He walks over to one of the viewports, and to Selene, occasionally having his eyes follow a TIE fighter that streaks past on guard duty with the rest of the 1st fleet. He pulls out a flask from one of the many pockets of the lower half of his flightsuit, and takes a long drink, leaning against one of the bulkheads as he looks out. A crewman walks up to Dareus, "No word yet, sir." and the Ensign nods, "Thank you crewman, keep me informed should anything arrive." As the young man walks away, Antoine takes another long drink from the flask, possibly cause of the news, or maybe cause he's finally back at home.

Sipping at a mug of Corellian Lum on the side of the table, the Imperial Commissar looks up from his datapad to see Ensign Dareus walking across the room. It's not hard to miss the man only being in half a uniform; whatever happened to himself down there must have been pretty bad.

The doors to the observation lounge part once again, and Alden Spiers quickly steps through. Clad in his rumpled Imperial naval uniform, he stands out like a sore thumb amongst the backdrop of civilians, technicians, and on lookers who've come to look through the vast expanse of the lounge's viewport; into not only the abyss of space itself, but into a reverie of their own private hallucinations. Truthfully, there was no solemn purgatory for him; indeed, he wasn't even assigned to the "Predator". His orders stated he'd be onboard the Strike Cruiser that was being sent to replace Strenge Lehmann's old command, the "Dauntless", and so he had his own reign of the starship, with most officers being planet side or taking advantage of the respite from the chaos that war brought on. Taking note of the men around him - there was an injured fighter jockey of some note, his attention is grabbed by the stark white tunic of an agent of the Imperial Security Bureau. Spiers detested them; their methods of enforcing loyalty, their strict adherence to the propaganda of a "master race", of human blood above all else. Nonetheless, he attempts to put on a rather congenial disposition as he heads toward the window.

Lanil looks up and finds himself face to face with perhaps the subject of one of the most confounding cases within COMPNOR ever, one former Commander Dareus, now Ensign Dareus. The Commissar doesn't seem particularly...welcoming...of the man, but then again what can be expected? "Ah, Ensign Dareus, so your sentence is finally up eh? I must say I'm impressed with the legal maneuvering you pulled. However know this: the previous Commissar was incompitent, and if you even think of pulling similar under my watch, I will personally escort you back to Kessel myself, and this time you WON'T come back. Had it been up to me at the time, I would have given you the same sentence then, or perhaps even death. Insubordination on the scale you caused is intolerable within the Empire, and the only reason you are even standing before me now is because the Command did not realize that. You sir, were most fortunante I was still with the Imperial Navy during your trial."

Spiers wasn't out to get himself black-balled by the Imperial Security Bureau so early into his posting in this sector. Nonetheless, upon hearing the demeanor used by the intimidating Imperial Commisar toward a brother naval officer, he feels compelled to act; stepping over to the two men, who obviously have quite a history, he turns toward Jast, obviously comtemplating his next words very carefully. Angering someone with such influence in the sphere of Imperial affairs would not be wise; then again, Spiers never had much respect for behind the scenes maneuvering or agents who's only job was to enforce loyalty and cause unnervement aboard ship. "Excuse me, sir," with an emphasis, coldly, on the sir. "Do you think that tone is appropriate here?"

As serious as Lanil was about continuing the downfall of Dareus' career, he smiles and nods, tipping his flask towards Jast, "Congratulations on your goals." He takes a short drink, not like he wants to get drunk; after the last 2 weeks, he'd probably snap the man's neck; but like that would get him a promotion...or would it? Still having somewhat of a smirk on his face, he looks back towards Spiers "Don't worry Ensign, ever since the Comissar heard about my bars and medals being stripped, he's made it a personal vendetta to continue killing my future." He pushes a chair with his foot, and motions for the Ensign to sit down, "Even though my insubortination saved the lives of 6 operatives who were on that convoy...if I remember right, several of those six agents were instrumental at Gastus." He turns his attention to back to Spiers, looking sharply at him in the eyes, with a face that definately used to hold the rank Lanil spoke of; "Make no mistake, even running through the jungles of a Sith Planet, saving the lives of Imperial Flag Officers, and having a drink with Lords of the Imperial Royal Court, will still not stop the hounds of the New Order from nipping at your heels." Looking back to Lanil, he simply adds, "I just spent a week of hell on an operation that not even you are aware of, for people I can't tell you about; in the service of His Imperial Majesty, I've earned my place back in the fleet, and rest assured..." taking another long sip of whiskey, as the ISB always seems to make people want to do, "I will get my rank and Command back."

Lanil simply sits in silence for a moment, then begins laughing. Quite odd. Stopping as suddenly as he started, he speaks, "You misunderstand me, Ensign. I do not wish to interfere with your career, oh no. If you are to get your command back, if it is the will of the Empire, then it will be so. If you are destined to fall flat on your face, then that too will come to pass. I am merely an observer, stepping in only when I am needed. I simply wished to give you a warning about your future actions, in relation to what your record attests to. You are not one to mess up often, Ensign, but when you do, it is BIG. Pray that next time will not be your last mistake." Turning around in his chair, he addresses Spiers, "And you Ensign Spiers, who are you to tell me how to do my job? Right now you're probably thinking 'Who does he think he is? Just because he's the Commissar, does that give him the right to degrade us so?' Well in a sense you are right, but it goes beyond that, Ensign. Before my career here with the ISB, I was a Naval Officer, as yourself. Even fought in the Galactic Civil War against the Rebellion. I have been at this a lot longer than you have, and have had not only the stres of a squadron, NOT ONLY the stress of an entire TIE detachment to command, but I had to deal with the intricacies of an entire Imperial Star Destroyer, as Executive Officer of the Conqueror, may she not be forgotten. So it is more personal habit and technique that I conduct myself the way that I do, rather than simply because I can." Pausing only to take a drink, he continues, "And none of us are immune from the will of COMPNOR and the New Order. Commitee for the Preservation of the New Order, gentlemen, that is what COMPNOR stands for, not only in definition, but in actuality. The only one truly exempt from it's fingers is the Emperor, simply by the fact that he is the Emperor, and dictates the path COMPNOR is to take. Many have assumed otherwise, that they are above COMPNOR...sadly, they are no longer with us to drink today." He hopes that the two officers will catch the hint.

Spiers accepts Dareus' offer of a chair, and only half-heartedly listens to the man's somber story, obviously not the first case of an officer being broken by the Imperial Security Bureau and obviously not the last he'd have to deal with. While he listens to the disgraced officer receive yet another dressing down at the hands of Jast, he grinds his teeth to restrain from saying something in defense. When Jast's admonation to him comes, he stoically listens, obviously absorbing everything, thinking about what his reply might be. Staring at the table for thirty seconds or so, he finally turns to face the elder, arrogant man. He had a sharp tongue; just because his rank or credentials didn't match up with the officers around him meant nothing. "Perhaps, then, sir, you should put more of your talents and experience to good use - backing up the reputation that you flagrantly flaunt - instead of tearing down the men who are valiantly going into combat and giving their lives for this Emperor. And if your attitude is born out of personal habit, as you so claim, then perhaps you should seek an adjustment." Looking toward Dareus, he continues. "None of us may be above the will of the New Order, and you may be the Commisar of this ship, but that does not mean that I, or any other officer under this banner, have to take your public humiliation. This is a naval ship, not an interrogation facility. Now, to be quite blunt, sir, perhaps you should go back to your cabin, make a note in our records of disobedience and do whatever it is you do - looking up some juicy nuggets of information, digging through classified files, that sort of thing."

Dareus stands up, and grabs a cup of coffee, he's had enough whiskey today, no point in getting drunk. "Jast, all of us had stress when we had our commands, you know that as well as me; so what, do you blame the stress of the Outer Rim Starfighter Corps for what I did?" He finishes filling up a steaming mug, then comes back to sit down, "No, I did that out of decency to SAVE IMPERIAL LIVES." He blows gently on it, then removes the angry tone from his voice, "Saving lives was the very same job you did so very well when you were in uniform." He sets the cup down on the table, and leaves it for the moment, "I damn well know I sat on Kessel for 10 years, prison DOES change a man. I've been out for over a year, and this time my career will have no mistakes, not even a blemish so I can retire an Admiral, like my old track was headed for." Taking a deep breath he looks at Spears, "I suggest you settle down Ensign, the only reason this conversation is so heated, is that me and Commisar Jast hit it off on the wrong foot; and it's never been quite the same." He grabs his cup, and takes a sip, "You don't want to end up having them as enemies."

Lanil makes a few notes in his datapad, before turning to address Dareus, "And your efforts in saving your fellow Imperials did not fall on deaf ears, I assure you. The natural order of things simply had to be preserved within the Empire, and you were forced to 'take one for the team' as it were. Imagine if word had gotten out about your crime going unpunished. The NR would have called us lazy, unwilling to prosecute our criminals, yet at the same time praising you for what you did in standing up to save the lives of the others. Not only that, but think what that would have said to the others within the Empire with dissadent thoughts: 'Oh it's alright, as long as you save the lives of your fellow man in the end, we'll overlook it.' No, that simply cannot stand." He looks back over to Spiers, "I was like you once Ensign, thinking that the only true heroes of the Empire were those fighting on the front-lines. And yes, I commend them whole-heartedly, theirs is not an easy battle, still we are fighting a POLITICALLY MOTIVATED battle, Ensign, and have been for years. My father and brother died in space at the hands of the emerging Rebellion even before the Battle of Yavin took place, even before you were born, and I swore I would see the Rebels brought down for that, whatever it took. So I have grown too old for the cockpit as a mainstream pilot, so what? I have moved on...surely you saw my attack on the New Republic Admiral on the holonets? I am still doing my part, I only hope when you get to my position in experience and time, you will have the same foresight I had to think: 'How can I continue to serve the Empire?' I know what we are fighting my friends, all too well. I am one of the few Imperials old enough to still remember the rule of the decrepit Old Republic with its politcal committees and such. The Empire was a blessing, and we must continue to serve it, however we can, until our dying breath."

"That's alright, Dareus," Spiers says taciturnly, obviously either completely oblivious to the thin ice he is now skating on, or simply naive enough not to care. Take your pick. "No need to protect me. I can take responsibility for what I've said." Turning to look up at Jast, he remains unconvinced. "The Security Bureau may be an integral part of the structure of the New Order - does that give its agents a right to use their political backing and authority to smash to pieces the morale of men who, quite frequently, will wind up giving their lives for the foundations upon which this great state was built on? You can rant about the old days and profess political with me till you're blue in the face. You still haven't answered my fundamental question. What gives you the right to intimidate your fellow officers? To publicly humiliate them? To imprison them on unconfirmed charges? Or is it because there is no sufficient reasoning that justifies your actions today, and wholly the actions of the Bureau, only the ramblings of bitter old men? When you are dealing with traitors, spies, saboteurs, rebels, perhaps then, but you deal with none of those here, only your fellow loyal servants. Next time, before you are so quick to pull the trigger on someone who has made the same commitments and sacrifices as yourself, you'll consider that." Pushing himself away from the table, obviously sastified with his parting shot, he rises. "Now, if you'll both excuse me, thank you for the banter, but I should be returning to Selene. I could be deployed at any moment."

Dareus shakes his head, politics, he hates it. It's not his strong point; he's here to fight the wars, kill the enemy. Maybe he shouldn't have stopped drinking. With the final words that Spiers states, he turns to him, they may be the same rank, but Dareus is far more experienced with the dances between the Bureau and the Navy, "You will be responsible for your words, Ensign; always remember that." He was by no way taking Lanils side, but he respects, and detests the man at the same time.

Lanil simply looks at Spiers, blinking for a second, then speaks, "You would be wise to heed the words of Ensign Dareus, he knows full well what those I represent are capable of. You are excused, of course, Ensign, but I leave you with this: You say my actions would be justifiable against criminals, traitors, and thieves? Sometimes the worst criminal is right under your nose, it just takes a bit of goading to bring him to the surface."

Dareus shrugs the whole situation off, "Either way, I'll hopefully be leaving the Predator soon." He takes another long sip of his coffee, holding it in his hands for a moment, then sets it back down, keying the datapad on, scrolling over his request for tranfer; hoping that it will be approved. Then again, it did go straight to the top; there were very few and far between people who could call shots in the navy above Grand Admiral Kreldin. Seeing that him being a prick is getting nowhere, he smiles a bit, and concedes his position to Lanil, "Anyway, I did enjoy your broadcast, I was able to see it on the way home....quite inspirational; especially since it probably wasn't hard to turn the Rebels words around on them..."

Lanil nods, actually quite glad himself that the method debate has subsided for now. "You're right, it wasn't. Like I said, they bicker and debate on decisions, and by the time it's ruled on, the issue has become moot." He chuckles to himself, "It would seem not only has Admiral Rodriga been reduced to exercising his 'gift' for sarcasim, but now there are rumors that he in fact is a loyalist to the Empire! A factual error no dobut, for it would take far more than that to convince me...but the political and social/gossip damage is well for us, don't you agree?"

Dareus nods, "Absolutely, every time we engage the enemy from now on, I absolutely know in my soul that each person we are fighting with, will be weighed down with a thought in the back of their mind....is this an Imperial trap, set by our own Commanding Officer." He laughs a bit at the thought; if anything, the words do sting just as much as full scale engagements that they have been fighting during this war, "The daamage will be felt for a long time through the ranks of the rebels." He turns his attention back to his cup of coffee, and he anxiously checks his chronometer...still no word, this can't be good for him. Impatience isn't something that would help him in this situation though.

The hectic debating of earlier having subsided, Lanil resigns himself to flipping through the various holonet stories on his datapad, ranging from more rumors about Admiral Rodriga, to the Blood Dragon pirate group staging an "open day" event. Yea, like that will fool anyone. Ah to be in the old times again, with the Empire at the forefront of civilization...although if Coruscant is won, that day shouldn't be too far off. Sighing to himself as if in a dream, he sips a bit more at his Lum and continues to read.

Dareus, now content that the heated argument is complete, and both men are finally behaving like civilised gentlemen, sits not too far away from Lanil; but equally glad that he has some time to himself; after a few minutes of reading the datapad through again; he finishes off his now empty cup of coffee, and goes to grab another; but seems to stop, and head to the viewport as he sees the giant silhouette of the Malevolent gracefully move past, "That is one beautiful ship...." he seems to say to himself. After a few minutes of contemplation, he continues his journey for another cup.

The turbolift doors open up, and out comes the party. Danik Kreldin is at the forefront, dressed in his white Grand Admiral's uniform, bullion epaulettes and shiny rank bars, and his dozens of medals and ribbons (which, amazingly, cover most of the side of his uniform). Behind him come a row of Imperial officers, dressed in full dress uniform, one of them carrying a case familiar to most members of the Imperial military. Danik, with his hands folded behind his back, strides across the observation deck, bringing most of the room to a stop and to attention at the sight of the old admiral, who seems rather renewed, and with a new addition to his belt; unfamiliar to most, besides probably Corellians, a Corellian Rapier, a highly elegant and, well, beautiful, rapier, is tucked into his sheath. The Admiral and his entourage move across the observation deck towards where one Antoine Dareus is sitting, converging upon his table like hornets. The officers come to full attention in a single file by the table, while Danik steps to the center and looks down on the pilot. "Ensign Antoine Dareus, please, stand up," he says, making a motion with his hand for the veteran pilot to stand up. "Today is a good day for you, my young friend," Danik says with a warm smile.

Lanil stands as well, but adopts a parade-rest stance, as he's not part of the official party nor being addressed. Eyeing the case and the uniforms the party is wearing, he can pretty much guess what is going on: Dareus is getting his medals and such reinstated. So be it. Let's just hope that the Ensign will take the Commissar's warning to heart as well.

Dareus seems a bit embarassed that he never noticed the Grand Admiral arriving, just due to the sheer business of his mind on many other things. Upon seeing Danik arrive, he does maintain military discipline; but stands up sharply with a warm smile, "Grand Admiral, I apologize, I had no idea you were on board." Quickly, he is standing at full attention, but glances down at himself, still glad in his flightsuit, which is pretty much laid out as an off duty pilot would have it. His eyes glance down to the beautiful rapier which is hanging from the Admirals' side, and another smile crosses his face as he thinks that he may very well recognize the weapon which only the best of coinesseurs had wanted to admire and hold.

"It's quite all right, Ensign," Danik says, offering the pilot a crisp nod. "I did not mean to take you by surprise; I am here, however, to return to you your medals, and to pin a new one on you," he says, noticing that he is still in his flight suit. Danik does not care, however; he will get his medals, nevertheless. He turns around to face the officer holding the two cases, and he makes a motion to call the officer forth. Danik then steps forward, and pulls a Star of Cimber out from the case as the officer opens it. He holds it in front of Dareus and nods his his head. "Your Star of Cimber is being reinstated, Ensign, along with a promotion to Lieutenant Junior Grade," he says, and then proceeds to pin the medal onto the flight suit. Sure, it's unorthodox, but Kreldin has always been somewhat unorthodox. He then hands the case to the newly promoted lieutenant, which now holds nothing but the ribbon for the medal. Then he takes the second case, and pulls out a Navy Cross, the highest medal for the Navy. "Lieutenant Junior Grade Dareus, for actions alongside myself and elements of the 501st Stormtrooper Legion, in operations on enemy Coruscant and on Ord Trasi, you are hereby being awarded the Navy Cross. Congratulations," he says, pinning the medal on and offering the Lieutenant his hand.

Lanil smiles to himself. LIEUTENANT Dareus must have promise, that much is certain, else why would the Grand Admiral promote him, much less award him the Navy Cross? True, his past crimes still sit on the books, but everyone can redeem himself or herself, given the opportunity. The old man pauses, catching himself. If he's not careful he could start thinking like a Rebel. Coming forward from the throng of onlookers in the back, he addresses the newly minted Lieutenant, "Congratulations, Lieutenant. The pilot fraternity is something that never leaves you." He gives a curt nod to Danik, "Am I right, sir?" A rhetorical question, he laughs and continues, "I would like to apologize, publicly, for my words earlier. I have simply had to deal with so much politic recently I have been overlooking the people behind it. If the Grand Admiral is willing to overlook your past, then so am I." He extends a welcome hand in not only congratulations, but also friendship.

An unusual pride wipes across Dareus' face as he extends his hand and takes the Admirals' firmly in his, shaking it graciously, "I was honored to be able to fight along side you and the 501st, Grand Admiral." He knows now, he's finally back in the ranks, and on his way back up. Just this afternoon he was wondering if he'd ever see his Star of Cimber, and now it comes back with the Navy cross as well, presented by the Grand Admiral himself. He shakes Lanil's hand as well, "Thank you Comissar, thank all of you." He almost feels like giving a speech, but he knows now is not the time. It was a complete, but most welcome surprise, to say the least. A question flashes across his mind, regarding his letter, but only for a moment; this was not the appropriate place, and definately not the appropriate time.

Danik nods his head. "You fought well, Lieutenant; it was a pleasure having you along my side," he says, looking over to Commisar Jast as he approaches. He offers the Commisar a smile and nods. "Indeed, Commisar. Once a pilot, always a pilot, indeed." He listens in to the exchange between the Commisar and Dareus, familiar with Dareus's past and Lanil's obvious interest in it. "Everyone deserves a second chance, Commisar; I was given a second chance myself, as you probably well know," he says with a smile. "And, I've considered your request, Lieutenant..." he says, looking back to Dareus. "And I've decided to accept. I'll let Captain Syris know you're on the way. I'm sure he'll be happy to have you aboard the Stolz." He looks over to the bar, stepping over there and ordering a Corellian ale. "Corellian Ale on the house for you, Lieutenant," he says, taking the glass as it arrives and handing it off to Dareus.

Lanil nods, thinking back to the days of the Neo-Imperialist Movement, "I remember that quite well, sir. I myself was too young back then to decide where I truly stood, but if I knew then what I know now, I would have stood with you." He laughs and continues, "In a way though, Admiral, you DID win...just look at where you are now." Listening to the exchange between Dareus and Danik, he speaks again, "So, I take it the Captain is settling into his new command then." He takes a sip of his drink, then looks back over to Danik, "Oh, Admiral, speaking of Captain Syris, I trasmitted the orders to him in relation to that matter we discussed earlier, and also sent you a copy, sir."

Dareus nods, and gracously takes his new decorations, placing them carefully and respecfully on the table, "I look forward to serving under the command of another fine officer." Obviously, tonight's events have now put a permanent smile on the young officers face. He had just gotten settled on board of the Predator, but oh well; he's more than happy to pack to help out with the 501st. He motions to the seat, "Please Admiral, I'd be honored if you would have a drink with me, and discuss the details of how you acquired such an auspicious weapon." He's had enough limelight for the night; the Admirals words and commendation are firmly set in his mind; now he would rather, schmooze as it were, with someone he'd be happy to follow into battle again.

Danik does not order anything for himself, however; he's already had an ale with Malif, and he does not wish to do overdo it. He looks to Lanil, and nods slowly. "Yes. I fought for the right side. Paid off in the end indeed," he says, grinning as he looks down at his rank bars and medals. He then perks up at the mention of the orders. "Ah, yes; very good. I received it earlier, thank you. I'm sure Captain Syris and his men will be more than capable of handling the task. Intelligence has already pinpointed his location.. it's only a matter of time before Woden is back in our hands," he says, stepping away from the bar table and putting some distance between himself and the others. "Oh, no drinks for me, Lieutenant; I've had my share just before, when I received this weapon you speak of," he says, grinning and patting the sheath that holds his rapier. "I've been looking for one ever since my father died; he had one, but lost it long ago. I received some intelligence that a man by the name of Malif was in the ownership of one such weapon, so I called him to a meeting aboard the Malevolence... and well, I'm quite the persuasive man, so we worked up a bargain and well..." he says, pulling the Corellian Rapier from his sheath, "there you go."

Lanil whistles appreciatvly at the blade that Danik unsheathes, "A fine weapon if ever there was one, and I should know; my mother and father ran a sword smithery for the various Old Republic Academies...that is before my father was killed by the Rebels and my mother became the traitor she was...bah!" Lanil obviously resents the fact that his own mother would betray the same Empire that he served, and his older brother and father had died for.

Dareus stares at the sword in sheer awe, "Ever since I was a boy on Corellia, I always wanted to be the person who found it. Such a thing of beauty and grace." He leans back, and takes a long sip of his Corellian Ale, "There is one more weapon that seems to be just as, if not more elegant; but they, even nowdays are not as rare." After Ord Trasi, he knew for a fact that the Admiral would know what he was talking about; even Dareus had the pleaseure of finally watching the weapon in action first hand. His fingers slide across his own new pride and joy, The Navy Cross, and back to his old friend, the Star of Cimber, which he thought that he had lost forever; the smile returns to his face as he looks throughtfully at them, and nods his head ever so gently in approval; knowing full well he would get himself more. He'd only just begun his now merciless crusade to redeem himself in the Empire; and with this new promotion, was proof positive that he definately was again becoming the model officer he once was a decade ago.

Danik ignores the slight slip up on Lanil's behalf; he's not particularly bothered by the fact that Lanil's mother was a rebel. Not everyone has a perfect family. As long as she's taken care of. Danik would do the same thing if he were in Lanil's shoes. Danik replaces the Rapier back into his sheath and nods his head. "Yes, she is a beauty; I'm gonna make good use of her," he says, grinning at the prospect of dueling with his new Rapier. But the thought of a Lightsaber, as Dareus mentions it, does bring warm feelings to Kreldin: he'll have to get his hands on that too, someday... up to his Master, of course. Speaking of Tyler, where has he run off to? He should probably check up on him. "Well, gentlemen, I must be off; duty calls. I'll send a notice to captain Syris to let him know you're on the way, Lieutenant; congratulations again," he says, and with that he makes haste towards the turbolift, his entourage of officers following closely behind.

Dareus stands up as the Grand Admiral leaves, then quickly takes his seat again. This had been one hell of a night for him. He qucikly pulls the upper part of his flightsuit back on, and zips it up. He removes the Ensign's rank pips from the uniform, and proudly replaces it with his new Lieutenants' bars, "Good Night Comissar, I'm off to pack for my new assignment." He carefully gathers his new medals, and other items from the table, and walks at a brisk pace out of the observation deck; a visibly happy and changed man.