WIP bit 18
"Agral! Pyro!" Lomar bellows across the room. "We ordered - come eat!"
Yindan's is an old haunt of academy days. Platters of food and pitchers of premises-brewed ale beckon those who've had only mess-hall food for an entire deployment. The midshipmen scurry out of the way of actual officers and Ilyana asks when they started making the cadets this damn young.
"They all look... twelve," Jashin says, breaking the crowd in front of them while Ilyana picks up four pitchers from the counter and follows.
Half the Chimaera's bridge is tucked into a round corner table piled high with platters of finger foods and emptied pitchers of brew. They are made welcome, plates filled, and ale poured. The Ascension Games have come and gone, leaving the Chimaerans much to celebrate, but little time to do it in. Tonight might be the only night out as Thrawn and Faro are tucked up with Colonel Yularen at ISB headquarters instead of the usual amount of voluntold socializing at the Allisandre, the Diplomat, and the Admiralty Tower.
The crew is jammed hip to hip and in some places in each other's laps. Yissa wraps an arm over and gives her a kiss. "What kept?"
"A bunch of Royal and Skystrike fucknuts who wanted to know how a 'girl' managed to beat the boots off them in an undergunned Arquetiens instead of an ISD." Ilyana rolls her eyes. "With men, it's always about size."
"Oi. Some of us get by on skill." On Coruscant, Ilyana was Jashin's beard to his family - who all but disowned him when he reupped his commission last time. "Lots and lots of skill. Loads of it."
"And modesty, too." Major Quach leaned over and swiped some bokbok wings. "Got room for the other side of things, bridge ladies?"
"He's jealous that we've got the best looking and deadliest fems in the district," Yve sniffed. "Help me unfold the rest of this table if you want to sit."
The table went from a half-round to a full circle, and benches extended to make more seating. Ilyana was too busy eating as she always got the whimwhams before an engagement.
"Pyro, you did great." Quach loaded his own plate. "But why an Arquetiens? The ISDs got roasted and cracked, so why go smaller?"
"Like I said, bigger isn't better. You have to have someone focused on getting the job done instead of swanking around." Thrawn would get it. "If you can't get it done with a big ship, you're not going to get it done with a bigger ship."
"Oh? How very interesting. I do enjoy a ripping exchange of ideas with my former students." That soft, querulous voice shot a bolt of freezing cold down her spine. "Pyrondi - thesis, please."
Oh. Fuck. Me.
The entire naval section of the table looked fit to piss themselves as Pyrondi turned to behold Professor Partagaz in the white tunic and black trousers of the ISB. "Major Partagaz, sir."
The man stood, relocated himself to an empty chair, and sat with a smile. "You were a quiet one back then, Senior Lieutenant, and I read your promotion board thesis. It was quite impressive. I expect no less of you now. Thesis, please."
