Karstask Building, Naval Headquarters

Posted: Wed Nov 02, 2005 4:33 pm

The breaking dawn threw harsh light through the window's of Cherokee's bedroom. The rising star crested the westernmost spires of the Imperial Palace past the Grand Concourse from the Lord Admiral's most recently procurred penthouse.

The concourse below shone brightly, ch'hala trees in full bloom, the concourse itself lit by the reflected light from the suborbital light collectors which shone down to bath the Concourse in light even during the dark early morning and late even hours when the towering monoliths of Coruscant spread their long shadows.

Cherokee stood admiring the view for a few moments, then tsking to himself, turned away and prepared for the day. He was not pleased with having to attend yet another celebration...a day long event being held at Naval Headquarters to celebrate the Imperial successes of recent missions. A time of calm in the galaxy where officers seemingly in need of something to do turned from the constructive pursuits of wartimes and looked to the celebratory exhibitions as fitting pasttimes.

If they need something to do, I can arrange for something for them to do, Cherokee mused as he stepped out of the shower and dressed in his dress uniform. He quickly had other concerns however as he swept his white hair back from his forehead, I'll be damned if my hair doesn't seem thinner today he thought, grimacing at the receding hairline and thin hair.

Cherokee's breakfast of poached Arrabsa eggs and boiled onions was waiting for him as he exited his sleeping suite. Nodding to the Naval guards standing sentry by the entryway, Cherokee unfolded the flimsiplast newscript. He knew he could just as easily watch the news on any of a thousand holonet channels, but Cherokee liked to do some things the old fashioned way. He liked the feel of folding the newscript and bending over it to read as he ate his eggs and onions and drank his morning drink.

There was little that was actually news these days however, one of the drawbacks of being a former Director of Imperial Intelligence was that the networks of contacts he had personally built during his tenure oft tended to show their loyalty to him by keeping him well infromed on the goings on in the galaxy. It was not often Cherokee experienced the feeling of surprise anymore, and oddly, it was something Cherokee almost missed losing. Still, Cherokee poured over the newsript and then stood, sighing to himself as he thought about the hours of drink holding and small talk that would be expected of the Lord Admiral of the Imperial Navy today.

Nodding to the guards, the preceeded him into the hallway and led him through the private turbolift to the rooftop landing pad where Cherokee's hoverlimo awaited him.

Mere minutes later, threading through the upper levels of priviledged travel lanes, the hover limo approached the Karstask building, the new Naval Headquarters Cherokee had assimilated to his needs in the past few months.

"Not even four months old and the blasted building has seen more parties than staff meetings."

Spending the morning in his office handling the inevitable piles of paperwork that had built up while he had been preoccupied and away leading the First Assault Fleet on it's most recent mission, Cherokee barely noticed the morning light slipping away. Noon arrived all too soon for his tastes.

Girding himself for an afternoon of libation, Cherokee strode into the Grand Hall on the fourth floor and headed for the Command dias at the head of the room where Naval Command and Fleet Commanders would sit.

He returned the salutes of the officers who were already present as he entered and resignedly took his seat, looking around the room at the gathered knots of officers and the emcee who stood to one side going over his notes for the speeches later this afternoon.