Space was beautiful, really. Ming had looked to it many times before, many desperate times, for an answer to one of life’s problems, big or small. He had looked to it in times of war, to calm his racing nerves and allow him to focus. He had looked to it in times of peace, seeking a purpose and meaning amidst what seemed at the time an endless sea of political dinners and boredom.
Ming had found, through his gazings, that a person would see entirely different faces and answers in the void when looking upon it under a different light or circumstance. He also found it ironic, and slightly funny at times, that he still suffered under the firm hand of mild space sickness on occasions of particular stress. It had haunted him all his military career, but was finally clearing up as he grew through middle-age.
He had looked on space many different times, and had seen so many strange answers, but found that despite this he had rarely ever actually <!--EZCODE ITALIC START-->
looked<!--EZCODE ITALIC END--> at it, as he was now. Thinking back, Ming realised that the only times he had ever looked at space for what it was was in times like these. The calm before the storm always sparked some sense of irregularity in people, causing them to either distract from their duties or focus on them with a fiery intensity to that of the norm.
Ming was one such person who deviated from his tasks in a pre-battle situation. It was a flaw that had halted his military development as much as, or possibly even more so than the tendencies to space sickness. In the critical moments before the command to attack was given, the General could often be found staring blankly out of the front viewport of his command ship, in this case the <!--EZCODE ITALIC START-->
Pandemonium<!--EZCODE ITALIC END-->, hands clasped roughly behind his back, and his attention seeming to be focusing on the precise planning of the battle ahead.
Most of the time, though, his mind was wandering through starlines, and would only come back to reality for the battle’s beginning.
It was in this situation Ming now found himself. Staring helplessly out of the <!--EZCODE ITALIC START-->
Pandemonium’s<!--EZCODE ITALIC END--> front viewport, waiting for something to happen which would further the actions of both him and his fleet. Ming noticed that he was standing in an obscuring path, and, probably for the first time, disallowed his pre-battle stress to let him slip into a lofty manner of which would be no use when the time for combat came.
It was skilled timing however, that he chose this moment to come back to the bridge from his airy daydream. Captain Tulok approached Ming hastily from behind, and the General only had a second to regain his composure before the all-business Captain was upon him.
“General, sir.” Tulok’s voice was a mixture of dread and anticipation. Ming could already feel the ship moving beneath him, the up side of having tendencies to space sickness, so he was quick to assume the worst. “We have just received a coded transmission from Bastion. The fleet is being ordered to Muunilist.”
“Details?” Ming was, as before on the <!--EZCODE ITALIC START-->
Lorric<!--EZCODE ITALIC END-->, sceptical, but he hid the feeling for now.
“None other than what I’ve just told you, sir,” Tulok replied, nervous to get underway. “I’ve already ordered the fleet to re-align itself for Muunilist.”
They began walking swiftly back from the viewport, headed for a more secluded destination where they could speculate on the orders without being overheard by as many of the crew.
The pair stopped half way down the run of the bridge, lurking close to Ming’s favourite standing spot aside from directly in front of the viewport: the tactician’s terminal.
“What kind of a time frame are we looking at here, Captain?” Ming enquired.
“Well sir, we had not anticipated the New Republic to hit us so deep into our own territory, striking at Muunilist.” Tulok sighed. “Although we were already prepared for a hyperspace jump, our vectors will have to be re-evaluated. We do have a firm one, however, and should expect to jump within the next quarter-hour.”
“Do we know how far along the battle will be when we arrive?” Ming was anxious as to weather his fleet would be taking the position of front-line soldier or cavalry.
“We can expect to be arriving in the mid-stages of the conflict, sir,” Tulok’s obvious disappointment was easily mimicked by the General. “The transmission was sent to Bastion first, sir, from Muunilist, then relayed to us.”
“I just hope we get there in time...” Ming’s thoughts turned quickly to the Eclipse Star Destroyer he knew was under construction at the Muunilist shipyards, but reverted to the <!--EZCODE ITALIC START-->
Pandemonium’s<!--EZCODE ITALIC END--> bridge soon after.
“We will, sir.”
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Not long after, in fact in seemed instantly to the General and his Captain, the division under Ming’s command had left Carida far, far behind, and was travelling at incomprehensible speeds toward a battle that had already cost them more than they could know.
