06-14-2010, 06:21 AM
CPW Havana
Moored alongside the Isis Omicron Minor
Alvarez was pouring over charts, spread out across the CIC situation table as he plotted the next move in his campaign.
Around him, repairs were underway from the recent battle with the LNS-Yorktown just outside Juneau Station in the Alaska system. The crew patching battle damage, and hot-swapping cooked systems and buckled bulkheads. An Arc-welder sparked and showered dancing, hot light, as it cut away a fallen support beam that had shattered the glass plotting board.
He reached out and picked up a pair of dividers, tracking the range and distance of the Liberty patrols, and how they connected to the Corsair ones.
Two Dreadnaught kills, the Havana was earning a stalwart reputation, a fierce fighter that was more than capable of tackling ships larger than it. Much like her current captain, small, but having teeth.
Commissar-Commander Gonzales was reviewing reports, sitting at one of the TNC stations, giving critical eyes to the exploits of TaskForce Bulldog.
Alvarez preferred Typhoons, to the large bulk of the Coalitions flagship, but there was no doubt she was competent in his hands.
We should sweep up next, Alvarez murmured, looking up at one of the overhead repeater displays that was displaying the current intelligence data of the Outcast sectors. Once repairs are complete, we should push onwards, give the casts something to worry about, eh Comrada?
He didnt wait for a reply, scooping up his papers and tucking them under his arm, as he walked through the doors to the CIC that pivoted for him, returning to his Office, to issue his own report to Commodore Guillentra.
Hermano-Captain, one of the many corsair Lieutenants that manned the Havana hurried towards him. Captain-Lieutenant Brooks has moored the Social.Credit alongside, you asked to be notified.
Tell him and the rest of Gold Squadron, to take some much earned rest, and get repairs. Well be setting onwards soon enough He turned and carried on, marching past Middle Eastern Marines, that stood with stoic faces, and steel eyes, watching for any kind of trouble on the warship.
Inside his office, he set the papers down, falling onto one of the large leather couches and rubbing his tired eyes. The Red-list Campaign was only just beginning, and he should be getting a report from Commander Broch aboard the CPW-Trotsky soon.
Moored alongside the Isis Omicron Minor
Alvarez was pouring over charts, spread out across the CIC situation table as he plotted the next move in his campaign.
Around him, repairs were underway from the recent battle with the LNS-Yorktown just outside Juneau Station in the Alaska system. The crew patching battle damage, and hot-swapping cooked systems and buckled bulkheads. An Arc-welder sparked and showered dancing, hot light, as it cut away a fallen support beam that had shattered the glass plotting board.
He reached out and picked up a pair of dividers, tracking the range and distance of the Liberty patrols, and how they connected to the Corsair ones.
Two Dreadnaught kills, the Havana was earning a stalwart reputation, a fierce fighter that was more than capable of tackling ships larger than it. Much like her current captain, small, but having teeth.
Commissar-Commander Gonzales was reviewing reports, sitting at one of the TNC stations, giving critical eyes to the exploits of TaskForce Bulldog.
Alvarez preferred Typhoons, to the large bulk of the Coalitions flagship, but there was no doubt she was competent in his hands.
We should sweep up next, Alvarez murmured, looking up at one of the overhead repeater displays that was displaying the current intelligence data of the Outcast sectors. Once repairs are complete, we should push onwards, give the casts something to worry about, eh Comrada?
He didnt wait for a reply, scooping up his papers and tucking them under his arm, as he walked through the doors to the CIC that pivoted for him, returning to his Office, to issue his own report to Commodore Guillentra.
Hermano-Captain, one of the many corsair Lieutenants that manned the Havana hurried towards him. Captain-Lieutenant Brooks has moored the Social.Credit alongside, you asked to be notified.
Tell him and the rest of Gold Squadron, to take some much earned rest, and get repairs. Well be setting onwards soon enough He turned and carried on, marching past Middle Eastern Marines, that stood with stoic faces, and steel eyes, watching for any kind of trouble on the warship.
Inside his office, he set the papers down, falling onto one of the large leather couches and rubbing his tired eyes. The Red-list Campaign was only just beginning, and he should be getting a report from Commander Broch aboard the CPW-Trotsky soon.