Vindicator-class Heavy Cruiser Hawkwing
-Length: 600 meters
-Crew: 2,551
Vindicator-class Heavy Cruiser Hawkwing (Imperial Navy)
-
Ams Jendob
- Moff
- Posts: 5
- Joined: Thu Feb 13, 2014 10:34 pm
Vindicator-class Heavy Cruiser Hawkwing (Imperial Navy)
Captain Ams Jendob, Vindicator-class Heavy Cruiser Hawkwing
-
Ams Jendob
- Moff
- Posts: 5
- Joined: Thu Feb 13, 2014 10:34 pm
Re: Vindicator-class Heavy Cruiser Hawkwing (Imperial Navy)
Blue smoke drifted into the ventilation grille as Captain Ams Jendob exhaled the fragrant vapor from his lungs. He walked over to the small desk provided in the office cubicle and lazily flung himself into the chair before replacing the cigarra in his mouth. The ashtray in the corner had been emptied, but the ash discoloration on the thick glass showed its heavy use.
Patrolling around Orinda was hardly exciting. Deep in Imperial territory, even Rebel raids were rare. In the last half year, the number of times battlestations had been ordered outside of drills could be counted on a single hand. Of course, Orinda was far from the pacification corridor that Zend had recarved up the Perlemian in the wake of the Rebel assault less than a year before. To think the terrorists had managed to get to the space over Anaxes...
Wouldn't that have been the ultimate irony, though, he mused, taking another drag of the cigarra. Save Coruscant from the warlords, just to watch Organa prance through the Imperial Palace.
His fist involuntarily clenched at the thought of that mission and he violently shoved it away. That was another time, another man. Oh, don't fool yourself, Jendob. Why do you think you haven't been at the front since you transferred? That mission was to have been his last. His odds of surviving were so miniscule... indeed, he was only alive due to factors that Isard and her analysts didn't see. And could never know about.
And, really, it was his last as an agent. Even as the fires caused by falling debris were still being extinguished, he'd demanded an audience with the Director. She was not overly pleased with an agent being so forward. In hindsight, Jendob was mildly surprised he'd left Headquarters in a single piece. Not that it had stopped Isard from suggesting he might not... but he'd just been decorated by His Imperial Majesty himself. Isard had countered Jendob wouldn't be the first handily martyred hero. Somehow, though... after the bluster, and the resignation masked as a reassignment, Jendob had left. He'd known he was done.
He hadn't counted on the cruelty of Iceheart, though. Well, I was losing my step. Ams Jendob no longer was a secret agent for the Empire, and so Ams Jendob would no longer be a secret. He was worked into the accounts of the battle--a footnote here, a single sentence there--and his ability to maintain a covert presence was forever destroyed. An image of the newly-minted captain being decorated by the Emperor sealed his fate. Jendob had even seen some holonews footage on the flight to his small apartment. Felt the stares. With a trillion registered citizens on Coruscant and a decent plurality being human, lookalikes were not uncommon. The human genome only had around three billion base pairs to encode information, with hundreds of billions of humans just on a single planet... but they knew.
So, he was shuffled around. A brief stint as an instructor at the Coruscant War College was decidedly unpleasant, even if the Empire's easing of restrictions on the recruitment of female officers had at least made for a pleasant view from the lectern. Not that he could even try to find enjoyment in that aspect; far too young, too inexperienced, and too eager to climb the ranks on a pile of those who were foolish enough to help. The creation of Zend as a Grand Admiral only spurred further ambition from both sexes, as now it seemed anyone could gain the white uniform. Mercifully, he was finally posted to a ship command: the warlords and the Rebel thrust meant a lot of dead commanders. Ships were being built faster than they could be crewed, at least until the CSA/IGBC put a stop to the Empire's deficit spending. So, the assassin became a cruiser captain. Why not?
There was something refreshing about it. A flat, brutal honesty that a life of espionage could never have provided. He'd always been a cog, but now it was as made as plain as the prefabricated and mass-produced corridor sections of his vessel, the always polished deckplates, the monochrome green-gray horde of officers milling through the cruiser... shift after shift, day after day. There was no hobnobbing with industrialists--often as a prelude to shooting them, or at least a treacherous member of their organization--nor the danger of being in a deep cover Rebel cell or crime lord's outfit. It was less bloody, less often... and even when death came to call, it was distant and removed. A puff of plasma amid the vacuum as a fighter patrol skirmished, or a starship hundreds of kilometers away fell to his ship's cannons.
If only she'd been quicker to pull the trigger.
Jendob took another hard pull on the cigarra. He was still on duty; using alcohol to solvate his moods would have to wait. He flicked the activation key on his terminal and skimmed the duty reports. A TIE Interceptor squadron leader had accrued enough time in grade for rotation, but was requesting a deferral to remain at his post. Well, this is certainly worth my time. Isn't this what I have an executive officer for?
Patrolling around Orinda was hardly exciting. Deep in Imperial territory, even Rebel raids were rare. In the last half year, the number of times battlestations had been ordered outside of drills could be counted on a single hand. Of course, Orinda was far from the pacification corridor that Zend had recarved up the Perlemian in the wake of the Rebel assault less than a year before. To think the terrorists had managed to get to the space over Anaxes...
Wouldn't that have been the ultimate irony, though, he mused, taking another drag of the cigarra. Save Coruscant from the warlords, just to watch Organa prance through the Imperial Palace.
His fist involuntarily clenched at the thought of that mission and he violently shoved it away. That was another time, another man. Oh, don't fool yourself, Jendob. Why do you think you haven't been at the front since you transferred? That mission was to have been his last. His odds of surviving were so miniscule... indeed, he was only alive due to factors that Isard and her analysts didn't see. And could never know about.
And, really, it was his last as an agent. Even as the fires caused by falling debris were still being extinguished, he'd demanded an audience with the Director. She was not overly pleased with an agent being so forward. In hindsight, Jendob was mildly surprised he'd left Headquarters in a single piece. Not that it had stopped Isard from suggesting he might not... but he'd just been decorated by His Imperial Majesty himself. Isard had countered Jendob wouldn't be the first handily martyred hero. Somehow, though... after the bluster, and the resignation masked as a reassignment, Jendob had left. He'd known he was done.
He hadn't counted on the cruelty of Iceheart, though. Well, I was losing my step. Ams Jendob no longer was a secret agent for the Empire, and so Ams Jendob would no longer be a secret. He was worked into the accounts of the battle--a footnote here, a single sentence there--and his ability to maintain a covert presence was forever destroyed. An image of the newly-minted captain being decorated by the Emperor sealed his fate. Jendob had even seen some holonews footage on the flight to his small apartment. Felt the stares. With a trillion registered citizens on Coruscant and a decent plurality being human, lookalikes were not uncommon. The human genome only had around three billion base pairs to encode information, with hundreds of billions of humans just on a single planet... but they knew.
So, he was shuffled around. A brief stint as an instructor at the Coruscant War College was decidedly unpleasant, even if the Empire's easing of restrictions on the recruitment of female officers had at least made for a pleasant view from the lectern. Not that he could even try to find enjoyment in that aspect; far too young, too inexperienced, and too eager to climb the ranks on a pile of those who were foolish enough to help. The creation of Zend as a Grand Admiral only spurred further ambition from both sexes, as now it seemed anyone could gain the white uniform. Mercifully, he was finally posted to a ship command: the warlords and the Rebel thrust meant a lot of dead commanders. Ships were being built faster than they could be crewed, at least until the CSA/IGBC put a stop to the Empire's deficit spending. So, the assassin became a cruiser captain. Why not?
There was something refreshing about it. A flat, brutal honesty that a life of espionage could never have provided. He'd always been a cog, but now it was as made as plain as the prefabricated and mass-produced corridor sections of his vessel, the always polished deckplates, the monochrome green-gray horde of officers milling through the cruiser... shift after shift, day after day. There was no hobnobbing with industrialists--often as a prelude to shooting them, or at least a treacherous member of their organization--nor the danger of being in a deep cover Rebel cell or crime lord's outfit. It was less bloody, less often... and even when death came to call, it was distant and removed. A puff of plasma amid the vacuum as a fighter patrol skirmished, or a starship hundreds of kilometers away fell to his ship's cannons.
If only she'd been quicker to pull the trigger.
Jendob took another hard pull on the cigarra. He was still on duty; using alcohol to solvate his moods would have to wait. He flicked the activation key on his terminal and skimmed the duty reports. A TIE Interceptor squadron leader had accrued enough time in grade for rotation, but was requesting a deferral to remain at his post. Well, this is certainly worth my time. Isn't this what I have an executive officer for?
Captain Ams Jendob, Vindicator-class Heavy Cruiser Hawkwing
