Finding a Solution for the Future

[Park Kraken]

Kuat Drive Yards

With the Decimator safely in drydock in one of the many orbiting yards around and beyond the main planet of Kuat, Park was left with little to do other than work on his report of the recent actions and the reason that he had decided to put his ship into drydock for a refit.

He was scheduled to meet with a KDY design team later in the day to discuss the desired modifications to his ship, but for now he was on his way to the mansion of the Moff in charge of the local sector to discuss...politics...among other things.

As the shuttle weaved in and out of the docks and shipyards, Park allowed his gaze to wander around, taking in the splendor of the Imperial Mark II Star Destroyer Rampage, one of several such vessels assigned to defense of the shipyards, cruising on the outer perimeter with a small starfighter screen deployed around her.

A large shape caught his eye, and he looked up at the massive prow at a nearly finished Super Star Destroyer sitting in the drydocks, the name Dominion being inscribed upon her hull. The huge shape began to fade away as they approached the planet proper.

Minutes later, Park had exited the shuttle and was seated in the waiting room of the mansion.

'I hope I won't be kept waiting long' thought Park, who was really anxious to finally meet this mysterious moff he had heard so much about.

[Quenn Yeartel]

An unassuming figure in the deep dark red tones of the telbun dress-code slipped into the reception area of the Moff's ample mansion, and went to meet the Imperial waiting there with eyes befittingly downcast. Not until he was face to face with her did she lift her eyes to stare right into the strangers' and meet his gaze.

"Admiral Kraken?" She said, with a rich voice full of clipped tones, in her best Coruscanti accent. "If you follow me please, Moff Quenn has asked to bring you to his private office."

Indicating her head to the left, she waited a moment to see if he would follow, then started off into that direction, leading their high-ranking guest to the "imperial" office her Master had told her to bring the man.

The office was a pompous affair in deep crimson, the walls pannelled in dark wood, and the matching furniture. The desk alone stood out: on four fat matte metallic legs sat a slab of carbonite topped by a thick transparisteel plate, the carbonite clearly showing the outlines of a man writhing in agony at the moment of being frozen, his facial features stuck in the middle of a scream, but shock and outrage still obvious underneath it all. The carbonite slab lacked the distinctive access panel that usually showed the freeze status - the man was obviously not going to return to life. This had once been the Moff's predecessor, and the last of an ancient line of Kuati nobility: Kuat of Kuat himself, who had been dethroned and dealt with in the chaotic days following the Emperor's death, when the remaining Moffs had seized their power and Yeart Quenn had manipulated himself into a position to become one of them. It was said he himself had pushed the nobleman into the carbonation chamber. Keeping his triumph over the Kuati aristocracy right under his nose was a very telling insight into the Moff's mind's workings.

It left his telbun unfazed. In the early days she'd been horrified to find it there, having been unable to think such tales true, and had felt her share of guilt and fear and loathing over the poor wretch's fate, but it was the past. And now she was telbun, and nothing mattered anymore besides her master's well-being.

Privately she was wondering what an Admiral would want, and if she would be allowed to attend the meeting. Aloud, she said, "The Moff will be with you presently. He is being held up by a meeting at KDY. Can I offer you a refreshment?"

[Park Kraken]

The thought came unbidden into his mind.

Pompous piece of Bantha Fodder....

Of course, he only assumed that the Moff was toying with him, trying to make him understand who the superior man was here, by having him wait. If he was truly the Moff's superior, than any meeting with his subordinates in KDY could be put on hold and postponed.

Instead, he had to wait out here, with this skank of his, the lowly telbun. He could barely hide his contempt for her within his own eyes, as the only thing worth noting was her diminutive beauty, and even that was barely present. He did not desire sex however, he prided himself on the control he had over his loins.

Rather, it was power that interested him the most. Power like that controlled by her master, and by that other Moff, Miranda Tarkin. Now there was a woman, a person born into a society that assumed women were made to be man's servant. She rose up from that, to her current position, through a battle that was no doubt difficult and cruel. She preserved, and he admired her greatly for that.

This telbun though, she submits every chance she gets, and it disgusts him.

But so be it. If she wants to play the part of the dog, he will not deny her.

"Yes, something to drink would be nice. No liqiour. And a light snack. Do not take too long in retrieving it," he said. It will be interesting if she will at least partly rebel in her duties to take a little longer than normal to serve him. Perhaps she is not completley as broken as she appears to be.

Sighing to himself, Park settled down into a comfortable chair. Hopefully the moff won't take too long in his posturing, for Park really is a busy man at the time being.

"Well then, nice office you had here," he muttered out lightly, glancing at the carbonite portrait of Kuat.

[Quenn Yeartel]

She looked at him for a long moment before replying to his request with nothing but a nod. Then she walked out as gracefully as she could, all the while intent not to show her anger.

Something in the Imperial's eyes had told her all too well what he thought of her. "Whelp of a Nackcrog!" she muttered angrily, once outside. "You're not fit to lick the master's boots! And you think you're better than me...?"

But a mere three minutes later she was back in the office, setting down a silver tray on the desk in front of him, an oblong glass filled with a sparkling purple-colored liquid and a bowl of vweilu nuts on it. Her face betrayed not a single emotion other than languid boredom with this task, but inside she was filled with glee: the glass contained a measure of ruba juice, peppered with a good dose of her own spit.

"Ruba juice, Admiral. The Moff is presently on his way, he has bid me to tell you."

[Park Kraken]

With this thoughts turning towards the meeting at hand, Park didn't pay attention to the color or content of his drink as he picked it up and took a sip. Rolling the liquid around in his mouth, he detected something off of the drink. He raised one eyebrow tenativley as he recognized the taste for what it was, and with the same eye glanced towards the little telbun, standing there with the model of perfect innocence.

'I see. Point one for the telbun.'

He could have remarked about her station or her servitude to strike back at her, but he decided not to. He had much more important things to attend to.

'Another time,' he thought while still looking in her direction.

He settled the ruba juice on the table and stood at stiff attention as the door chime sounded...

[Yeart Quenn]

Moff Quenn entered his "Imperial" office at a brisk pace, head held high and the brass buttons on his hastily donned uniform polished to a shine. The uniform with the rightful insignia and code cylinders of a Moff stood in in an odd contrast to the shiny, almost greasy black hair that covered only half his skull and fell into his face while the other side of his skull was covered with a milky plate of some plastoid material. Below his lower lip sat a small but precisely cut square of dark hair which gave the man a somewhat whimsical look.

At that moment when he came into the office, a small smile was etched onto his face in a way that made it look like it was in the wrong place. Indeed, the Moff wasn't one to smile often; and even with this smile, it lacked any kind of warm sincerity.

"Admiral...." Quenn drawled out the title in a way that made it sound slightly ridiculous, and another pause seemed to indicate he was searching for his visitor's name in his mind. "... Kraken, isn't it?"

With that he held out a gloved hand to his guest.

[Park Kraken]

His eyes glanced over to the moff as he entered the room. The small smile he was about to let out died on his lips when the moff appeared. He had heard rumors about the moff and how he looked, but meeting him in real person, he seemed a little...false was the closest thing he could find for a description.

When the moff spoke though, little chills ran down from the top to the bottom of Park's spine.

'Not a good idea to judge this one on appearance alone. Not a good idea at all,'

Park accepted the proffered hand, and found the Moff's grip to be most strong.

"Moff Quenn, how pleasent it is to finally meet the driving force behind Kuat Drive Yards. I come to you today for a favor to ask, a favor that would increase the profitiability of Kuat, and increase the efficency of the Empire in killing Rebels," began Park, getting right to the point of the buisness at hand.

'Now is the time to see if this moff is willing to play ball...'

[Yeart Quenn]

Quenn's left eyebrow rose a notch at this.

"Well, well,..." he said, in a voice dripping of sarcasm. "You don't waste much time, do you?"

Stepping behind his desk, he stood there for a moment and looked down at the carbonated remains of his predecessor. A slow sneer crept on his face, then vanished as he remembered his visitor who he saw was still standing at attention in the middle of the room.

"Sit!" he commanded imperiously, very much aware of the fact that the rank he held was higher than that of the man in front of him. "I'm always interested in increased efficiency."

[Park Kraken]

Park settled gently into the chair that was offered, non too quickly as to seem earger to be subordinate to the Moff, but still complying with his command.

He decided to begin his presentation with a slight nod out the window, towards the nearly completed Dominion, before speaking.

"Moff Quenn, an important part of winning a battle is being able to bring at least equal, if not superior firepower to an area of engagement of the battle. While vessels out there like the Dominion are the ultimate in battlefield power, they are too few in number and take far too long to complete to meet the many smaller and more rapidly cobbled together vessels of the Alliance navy," began Park, keeping his motions quite as he spoke, but keeping his gaze steady out the viewport.

He then turned to meet the Moff's eyes.

"The solution then, it would seem, is to build a larger number of smaller vessels to meet the smaller vessels of the alliance. However, new construction of even smaller numbers of vessels would still take time, while the alliance runs around with it's existing navies of ships, therefore I propose taking a number of older Victory class destroyers, laid up in mothball fleets around the Core, and refitting them in your yards," Park then paused, to let the moff absorb this and ask any questions he may have before continuing.

[Yeart Quenn]

Quenn raised a lazy eyebrow, and drawled: "My dear man, that smacks of desperation. Any good rebel would start cheering at the first sight of a limping fleet of antiques, and think you were coming to surrender."

He sneered at the thought of it. What a preposterous idea! He had absolutely no interest in wasting KDY resources and personnel on refitting jobs - not when almost seventy-fice percent of the yards were occupied by more lucrative and larger orders already. Putting them on hold for a couple of mothballed ships wasn't even possible - or at least not feasible, unless someone higher up than this simpering idiot of an Admiral ordered him to. Which was a valid question to ask, now that he thought of it.

"Do your superiors know you're here or did you come up with this brilliant plan all by yourself?"

The way he phrased it made it all too clear that he expected it to be Kraken's brainchild, and that he didn't think this had anyone's approval other than the admiral's own.

[Park Kraken]

The question caught Park off guard. It's not that he was suprised by the question, it's more of not what he was expecting.

But, he did have one other idea in mind that may arouse the moff's support for the idea.

Profits

So while it was probable that the moff worried that the yard's profits would decline while refitting older ships instead of building new one's from the ground up. Which simply wasn't true, but it seemed the moff needed to be informed on that little fact.

"While it is true that the profit per say of building a new ship from the ground up would be more than that of refitting an older ship, refitting comes with it's own advantages and profits to be found. The older systems and weapons stripped from said vessel could be sold to a third party for a hefty profit, while the refitting time compared to that of a complete new build means that in the time it would take to complete a new vessel and comission it out of the yards, two refitting jobs could have been completed and re-comissioned into the navy. Therefore refitting vessels could be just as profitable as new construction," explained Park, before moving on to the next part at hand.

"As to who is responsible for creating the idea at hand, I was the one who originally came up with the concept, but that does not mean I want to take full credit for implementing the idea, should it prove be such a resounding success among military and political circles like I project it should," said Park, one eyebrow raising tenativley as the implied benefits of impleneting the idea to one's career came into play.

"And finally, the Rebels own refitted ships are limping and antiquated only because of improper resources and poorly planned and executed refit work at their own shipyards. The only reason the Imperial plan would go down this path is if perhaps KDY was not up to the job of refitting these vessels for excellent and fearsome frontline service?" asked Park in a mocking tone.

With one speech lasting less than five minutes, he had laid down the profitiability of the project to KDY and to the moff's career, and had challenged the moff and KDY's reputation for excellent work.

'Now, let's see if this moff is a Herbivore or a Carnivore and goes for the kill...'

[Yeart Quenn]

Apparently the man was either immune to sarcasm or completely oblivious of it; Quenn suspected the latter. He let him ramble on about this project of his - and wondered whether he'd need to spell it out to the dim-witted buffoon - while tapping out the Imperial march with his fingertips on the transparisteel plate of his desk.

The inbuilt sensors relayed his tapping to his aide outside. He hoped the telbun would come with an adequate excuse to curtail this tedious meeting.

But then the Admiral's last words did catch his attention. Preposterous attempt to challenge KDY's integrity! Did this puffed-up navy jock really believe he would get them like that???

Apparently he did.

"Admiral," he drawled, "my dear man, you're doing KDY a fine disservice. The way it is, the company would gladly refit those vessels for you, if - and I say if in capital letters now: IF we didn't already have our docks full of ships in various building stages, ordered by men far superior to you. And since they are so very superior to you, and I do have strict orders to comply by those orders, AND it appears you haven't run this wonderful idea by any of those men, I would have to be honking mad to put my name down for this scheme of yours."

He really hoped the telbun would appear now.

[Park Kraken]

Park glanced down at the floor for a few long moments, working his jaw and hiding his eyes from the Moff's view while a million thoughts a minute raced through his mind.

'The moff won't play ball. He won't agree to the idea I've proposed. Damn him.'

His fist clenched at his side, tightening into his chair.

'Those ships would be so crucial and useful in fighting against the Rebellion. I can't let it end like this. I musn't let this idea die today.'

Slowly, Park forced himself to relax, settling back into his chair, his fists going pale as they loosened off of the leather, the material squeaking in protest.

'Perhaps I came on too strongly and forcefully for the moff's liking. Yes, that must be it. Perhaps I can still convince him to help while I formulate another strategy.'

His head came up then, staring into the moff's eyes with a little hardness, before softening into a more respectful glare.

"Moff Quenn, I thank you for your time in meeting with me today. Although as you state is it not in KDY's current capacity to being production of these vessels, perhaps in the meantime I could talk with some of your senior designers to talk about the design of these ships, while I seek the approval of higher ups within the chain of command for these ships?" asked Park in a more respectful and curteous tone of voice.

[Quenn Yeartel]

Quenn caught only the last few words of the Admiral's reply as she slipped back into the Master's office, but the atmosphere in the office was telling her enough. It seemed things hadn't gone well for the visitor.

How terrible for him. She could barely supress a delighted grin.

It seemed the Master didn't really need her to intervene, but she looked at him for a sign in case he wished her to do something. His face was set in an odd mix between exasperation, glee and - after the Admiral's last speech - annoyance. Her left eyebrow rose a notch as she looked at him. He nodded back almost imperceptibly. That was her cue.

"Admiral, will you follow me please? I will arrange for these meetings if you are willing to wait a day or two."

[Park Kraken]

"Certainly," replied the admiral, glad to finally be leaving the presence of the moff.

However, he did hope that relations between the two of them could be neutral at best.

"Moff Quenn, I must take my leave now," said the admiral, offering a bow from the waist before straightening to follow the concubine out of the office.

'Perhaps being treated with respect that accords more of a lord instead of a ranking military officer will assauge his ego a might bit..'

Well, he had the meetings to look forward to at least. He also already had an idea in mind of how to get the approval for his ships passed through...

[Quenn Yeartel]

'Talk about pointless statements....' she hid the smirk at her own thought, and felt herself confirmed in her assumption that the admiral was one who liked to have the last word in everything. 'Pompous cholocalt!'*

In her mind she considered the possibilities of simply killing him and dumping him out of an airlock, but the man was fairly high up in the hierarchy of important people, so that would be a big no. Not even the Moff would be able to save it as a situation. Still, it was a tempting idea...

It wasn't far to the quarters she had picked out for the Imperial. As blood red as the office had been, the spartanic suit of rooms held but the bare necessities of living accommodations whilst somehow yet appearing oppulently designed.

She keyed a code into the pad at the door and it irised open. "Step in, and make yourself comfortable. I will have refreshments and dinner brought to you upon the hour."

She watched him walk in, and waited until the door had shut behind him. Then she stuck out her tongue at the closed door, turned, and walked off again, mentally going through the motions of deciding which of the engineers would make it into the group of fools the Admiral would get to meet.

*rude Kuati name for the behind, can also be used to describe the whole person

[Park Kraken]

As Park walked alongside the Telbun, he reconsidered his opinion of her. To be able to serve so loyally under that moff...

To be able to take his fury when he is mad or angry, to be able to willingly marry him and bear any children he might have, to be with him for the rest of her life...

Park found his opinion and respect of the woman rising several notches, to where she wasn't far behind Miranda on his fantasy 'Wish to Marry' list.

Fantasy indeed. If he even was caught trying to flirt with her, he might as well step outside the nearest airlock. The pain of death would be far less than what the moff would have in store for him should he find out.

He was brought out of his musings when they arrived at his quarters. He nodded when she spoke, then offered a crisp military salute, one more of respect than anything, before turning and entering into his quarters.

* * *

After scanning the room for bugs, listening devices, and holocams, Park settled into a chair he had dragged over to the communications console and keyed in a name and password to access the holonet.

Park proceeded to type in a length message asking permission for his program to move forward, including a list of cons and benefits, and recommended that if a program had to be scrapped, that the Carrack cruisers and Lancer frigates be put on hold or cancelled until the project was completed.

Firing that program off torwards his old buddies in Imperial HQ at Coruscant, he proceeded into the refresher. He would be meeting with the technical engineers soon and wanted to be as clean and presentable as possible, even if they weren't.

[Yeart Quenn]

Good luck finding someone who'll approve of this scheme, he thought to himself as he was watching the departing Admiral. His face no longer hid the contempt he felt for the man - spineless bootlicker!

The Moff walked over to a hidden pannel in the wall, opened it, and took out a crystal tumbler and a dusty bottle of cognac. He watched his hands tremble - a sign of the level of annoyance he felt - as he doled out a shot of the dark-gold liquid. With the tumbler in his hand, he walked back to his desk and sat down behind it.

"Let's see how far you get with this," he said out aloud, imagining the Admiral still sitting in the opposite chair. "You're in for a rude awakening, I think."

And then he spent the rest of his afternoon phantasizing about the sort of response the late, lamented Emperor would have given Kraken. Of course Palpatine would have let him watch. It was an exciting - and thoroughly arousing - fantasy. At the end of it he had to call his telbun.

What a wonderful opportunity for him to try on the Emperor's costume - as long as the telbun would get her hands on a passably good copy of that idiot's Admiral's uniform! But she would - she was telbun after all, and resourceful.

A little stiffly and awkwardly, he walked back the short way to his bed-chamber, every step full of anticipation of what was to come.

[Park Kraken]

Splashing some water onto his face, he slowly looked up into the mirror, rivulets of water running down his cheeks and nose.

Those eyes, his eyes, shined and at the same time were dull. He had seeked many changes when he made the decision to get away from Imperial Palace and out into open space.

One of the reasons he had made the change had just come back to slap him across the face.

It was much, much easier to blow up Rebels than it was to negotiate with people who are supposed to be on your side but only see their own side, their power in their own eyes.

A long but barely audible sigh or growl escaped between his teeth. He stood up straight, toweling his face dry, before heading out of the refresher to change into a fresh olive green uniform and adorn his rank bars.

He had a meeting to keep with the engineers, and nothing, not even a stuffy old moff and his cranky telbun was going to diminish his earginess for the project he had to accomplish, for the glory of the Empire.

* * *

With an almost silent swish, the door to his quarters closed behind him. He started heading down torwards the engineering docks, trusting the telbun to find and keep pace with him if the moff wanted to keep an eye on him...

[Quenn Yeartel]

"Now where do you think you're going?!?" she muttered under her breath, as she was watching the Imperial exit his quarters. The telbun had been sitting naked in a chair inside the comms center of the master's suite, her legs up on the console, and her fingers dipping into a bowl of fried chalki every now and then. It had been good entertainment, so far, watching the Admiral.

He was very uptight. Even under the shower. Very uptight.

Quenn allowed herself a small giggle, then lazily picked up her comm and raised the two guards stationed down the hall from the Admiral's current position. A word from her - the master's trusted telbun - was enough to get them to step into the way and barricade the passage.

"You're not going anywhere, that's where," she mumbled, and swung the chair around, alighted onto her long legs, and rapidly began redressing herself, albeit in something a little less.... covering.

As she watched the Admiral's steps falter in the face of the two guards' steady refusal to budge, she grinned and sprayed scent at herself out of a bottle standing nearby, then grabbed another handful of chalki and walked off, chuckling to herself.

"Lessee if we can loosen you up a bit, Admiral...." she said to herself, mischievously, and exited into the direction of the Admiral's current location.