RPlog:To Corellia

A slim folder and datachips in hand, the Inquisitor's XO steps out of the turbolift and into the observation area. After a recent jump to hyperspace, the ports show the swirling blueshift characteristic of such travel, though the destination still isn't known to most apart from the bridge. In fact, it's precisely that which has brought him up from the command deck. Filing briefly through the names on the chip from the entrance, Valerius looks up and around, seeking for any faces to match the names.

Brek Halsmer sits in his accustomed place besides the observation window, nose-deep in a book, his helmet removed and set aside for ease of reading as well as to take in the view. His armored legs are folded one across another, hands embracing the holographic document, its faint glow caught on his face and in his eyes. Deep, contemplative lines are etched in his face, and parts of the title are visible through gauntletted fingers, enough so that the entire title can be easily discerned - THE PSYCHOLOGY OF GOVERNMENTS. He seems absolutely engrossed in it, to the exclusion of paying attention to any other part of the deck, only his rigid posture hinting at any kind of otherwise military bearing.

Sitting in one the booths by himself is Jonas, a single deck sabacc cards in his hand. Rather than building his usual house of cards, he seems to be playing a solo game, the cards arranged in a loose formation. He wears a bored expression on his face, and doesn't really look at the values of the cards in his hand as he plays them or the ones on the table.

Back on the Inquisitor, Rainier was forced to wear his uniform, as stuffy and dehumanizing as the drab thing seemed to him, and the man's mood had taken a turn for the worse. He found himself making his way to the observation deckk, the prospect of card games there, even in as quiet an area as that, a draw to the gambler in him. When the lifts open he takes a look about before beginning to make his way to one of the larger concentrations of crewmen, a pack of cards already retrieved from his jacket's inside pocket, the indentation it makes in the fabric a clear indicator of just how often he carries that pack with him.

Nearest the lift entrance, his first stop is the stormtrooper beside the observation window. "You look engrossed, trooper. The psychology of governments?" He reads aloud curiously as he approaches, his hands--and the things in them--clasped casually at his back.

"Yes, sir," replies Brek, shutting the book and glancing up with a short nod. His fingers lace together atop the book's edge, and he offers a faint, self-abasing smile. "It's a fascinating document. The work of half a decade by Corellian philosophers. They discuss the principles on which governments base themselves, and how the peoples whom they govern respond. I can't pretend to understand even half of it, but I can correlate some of it to my own experiences as a trooper." A short pause, within which the off-duty stormtrooper takes a breath. "It makes me look at my commanding officers differently, I'll grant you that, sir."

Passing as close as he was, it wasn't that hard to overhear the first part of Brek's words and the next part of it was taken care of as he suddenly veered off his chosen path towards the two. Finally when he comes to a halt before the XO and the Stormtrooper, Brek has finished speaking. "It makes you look at your commanding officers differently, did they not hold an honoured place in your eyes before? Or is it the opposite and that your opinion of them worsened?" The XO is not ignored, he can't, and the man snaps off a salute, "Sir, a pleasure to see you today."

"I'm sure what Mr. Halsmer meant was that it gave him a fresh perspective on the responsibilities and difficulties of military and civil authority," Valerius offers helpfully, shifting his eyes to Rainier. "And it's good that you're here, Lieutenant. You could say perspective is why I'm here." he says, being deliberately enigmatic--little games like that are one of the more exciting perks of command. "I'm sure that even the dialectic Corellian philosophy texts couldn't have kept you from noticing that we've entered hyperspace. Keen to know where you're headed?"

"I don't presume it to be my place to ask, sir," replies Brek obediently, simply nodding to Rainier in greeting and further nodding his silent assent to Valerius' own explanation of his meaning. He chooses to press on instead, laying the book beside his empty helmet. The stars are caught against the white visor, almost drowned out in the observation deck's own artificial lighting. "But I would like to know all the same," he adds, the merest edge of a smile on one corner of his lips.

Jonas opens his mouth in a small yawn, which he attempts to conceal to prevent himself from falling asleep. Upon spotting the group of senior officers, he turns, still bearing the same half-bored expression. "I'm hoping there's some kind of sortie imminent," the pilot complains. "My flight lead's been telling us squat, and we've been removed from active duty since just before we made the jump to hyperspace."

"Oh, I believe I have my idea as to where we're going given recent mumblings, Commander, are we to go in hot and heavy when we get there?" Rainier's words are interrupted when he spots Jonas' approach and the young man is given a nod, "RAzor Squadron is a prominent squadron and it will certainly have a role to play, although one hopes that there won't be a role to play to begin with." His only contribution to the conversation made, the man falls silent as he puts the pack of cards back in his jacket's pocket.

"Our destination, gentlemen, is the very planet from which Mr. Halmser's book originates. The Inquisitor is being deployed to Corellian space to extend our aid and presence to the ... situation ... there. Which brings me to another matter; this operation will undoubtedly call for the use of our trooper complement. I've found the roster somewhat lacking in experienced senior troopers to handle the situations that will just as undoubtedly develop. Lieutenant Rainier, maybe you know of some troopers, perhaps with recent field experience...?" Valerius smirks pointedly, grinning pointedly at Brek in a way that could only mean all the necessary signatures were gathered, their t's crossed and the eye's dotted.

Brek's long experience aside taken into consideration, he sees the last sentence coming from a kilometer away, and has time to compose himself before the glances swing toward him. His hand falls onto his book, and he simply looks up in silence, a calm smile on his features.

Jonas smirks as well, apparently catching onto the senior officer's implications. "Well, well, lucky you," he says to Brek, his eyes narrowing slyly. "I ought to buy you a drink or something. Only thing you have to do now is make sure you don't get blown up by any insurgents."

"Yes, Trooper Halsmer has shown himself competent enough at following orders and given that he is still alive he can presumed also competent enough at living through tough situations." Rainier's words perhaps not the appropriate ones for the situation at hand, but every Imperial party needs someone to rain down on the party after all.

"For the courageous execution of his Imperial Majesty's orders in enemy territory and in the face of constant danger--and for making sure Rainier came back in one piece--I'm happy to present with you with your promotion to Trooper, Senior Grade, Mr. Halsmer." Extending one of the hands from behind his back, Valerius offers over the associated paperwork to the trooper. "There you are. Stick that in a scrapbook, keep it up and it might be worth something one day."

"I'm honored, sir," Brek replies politely, taking a moment to scan the papers that are now in his hands. His brow quirks as he looks over the next couple of pages, and then he sets it down beside the book, eyeing it with an expression of faint bemusement. But when he looks up again, he is serious once more: "You and his Imperial Majesty can rest assured that I will continue to serve the Empire as best I am able." He raises one of his gauntlets up to his forehead, touching it in a brief salute.

The pilot quietly pantomimes clapping, but otherwise seems uninterested and picks up his cards, sorting them back into his deck. "Congratulations. You get command of your own squad and more responsiblities, and more dangerous missions. Just don't go getting yourself killed. I'd get depressed if my favorite buckethead got killed in action."

A nod is given Brek as if the assurance of his continued loyalty was given to him personally rather than Rainier having been a non-participant in the event. But the man was at times insufferable, and knowing his background it is a mercy that he is only so at times. The man turns back to the XO, "If you will permit me, Commander, there are some things I must attend to.", similar goodbyes are offered to the other two before he can leave which he does

Valerius returns the brief salute, offers his good-bye to the Lieutenant, then turns to watch Jonas sort the cards back together. "You'll be seeing your share of danger, too, cadet, don't worry. There's plenty of space traffic around Corellia to worry about."

Brek, after nodding a goodbye of his own, finds his book. Despite the slightly more troubled cant his own expression has acquired, he flips it open, finds his page once more, and becomes absorbed in his reading.

Jonas rolls his eyes and turns, muttering "Bookworm", and taking a seat at a nearby table and returning to his card game.