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Riene Zend
Moff


Joined: 18 Jun 2009
Posts: 118
Location: Arquebusier

 Post Posted: Sat, February 27th 2010 04:07pm    Post subject: Star Destroyer Fusilier
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The day was drawing to a close, but there was still much work to be done. Fatigue was beginning to wear on the young Chief Marshal, but Riene knew her mother would be most disappointed if she permitted only minor fatigue to impede the performance of her duty. And that... that was a punishment more cutting to her than every other prescribed by the Imperial law codes.

So, she labored on, scanning reports and various other pieces of data that kept her up to date on the status of the Stormtrooper Corps. And what better place do so than on board the flagship of the Corps. Her flagship. The Fusilier was one-of-a-kind, built from the keel up to serve as a mobile training center, officer academy, and command ship. Riene would have liked to think her mother had her in mind when it was built, but it predated her taking the reigns of the Corps by about five years. In any case, the vessel more than suited her own needs and allowed her Stormtroopers a degree of training that probably surpassed any in the known Galaxy.

Carida used to be the main training world for Stormtroopers, thanks to its high gravity and varied climate that allowed the Empire to train tough and versatile troops. Of course, that all changed when some Jedi child decided to vaporize the planet... and of course got off with nothing more than a guilt trip for also killing his brother in the process. Riene shook her head as she pondered that old line of thought: the Rebel terrorists had actually annihilated more planets than the Empire, and killed more than twenty times as many people in the process. Indeed, the vaunted Jedi Order was responsible for an act of genocide against the Caridans. And yet, Alderaan was considered the pinnacle of all crimes and atrocities? It made no sense to a logical, thinking person.

Riene would enjoy rubbing the noses of the Rebel slime in that fact when the Empire reigned supreme across the Galaxy. It might even be worth sparing their lives in order to remind them, every remaining day of their miserable lives, that they actually spilled more innocent blood than Tarkin. She especially hoped to have an Alderaanian to remind—and eventually break—with that knowledge. It would prove a very useful propaganda tool to snuff out any lingering fires of rebellion once the Republic serpent was decapitated.

But before the terrorists could be dealt with, the traitors had to be punished. The so-called Imperial Remnant would be crushed before the might of the Empire was brought to bear on their pathetic democracy-worshiping allies. However, Riene held a touch of pity for them. Most of the populace and military didn't realize they were serving a loose coalition of warlords. They saluted the Imperial seal and the Imperial anthem, just like her. They battled pirates and smugglers and kept order. Their only crime was ignorance. Unfortunately, for many, redemption would cost blood.

Still, enough would come around to make overthrowing the weak and corrupt Moffs an easy affair. With the Empire finally reunited and under proper leadership...

Riene snapped herself out of the reverie of Star Destroyers tearing through Mon Calamari-built starships, her legions storming the capitals of countless worlds. Before such grand dreams could come to pass, she had to be sure those legions were prepared. The starships were her mother's domain; as for the Army's troops, Riene had no time for them. She considered them to be mostly nothing more than peacekeeping units to hold ground after her men moved on. The only branch that had her respect were the armored units: they approached combat with the same zeal as her own troops and provided invaluable support to them. While enemy armor in the Unknown Regions had often been primitive, the sheer bulk of indigenous tanks and walkers made the use of infantry blasters against them a poor tactic. However, it was amusing to her that the AT-ST—a light walker that was usually deployed in four-walker sections for modern combat—was viewed with awe and terror by most the True Empire's natives. The AT-AT had only been deployed in battle on rare occasions; usually, the enemy surrendered or committed mass suicide shortly after.

Zend swore again; she'd always been an imaginative person. When applied in battle, it led to many success and was directly responsible for why her mother committed what appeared to be a blatant act of nepotism and made her Chief Marshal. But, other times, it could be a nuisance, distracting her from more mundane duties. Pushing the grandiose fantasies out of her mind once more, she set her sights on the long list of files and reports...

Four hours later, it was finished. Riene leaned back in her padded chair. Now she was truly tired. Fortunately, the office was part of her quarters on board the Fusilier. The room itself was significantly larger than her quarters on the Arquebusier, but since she spent so much time on that august vessel—and indeed had grown up in that very room—it held a special connection to her. Her immediate berth was viewed more like a vacation home or long-stay hotel room: it had a bed, refresher, closet, some decoration, and everything she needed to carry out her duties as an administrator and commander.

She made her way toward the refresher, loosening her uniform on the way. Once she was within the clean, white-tiled cubicle, she shucked her black outer garments into a laundry chute. The remainder of her apparel fell next, to be sent down at a different time. There had been some problems, apparently, with sending down her service uniform at the same time as lighter-hued undergarments. Prior to that incident, Riene had never owned—nor intended to own—a matched set of black underwear. And after a small side trip to an incinerator, she no longer did. But it was was certainly aggravating to have to take time out of her busy schedule to replace something so basic and simple.

Disrobed now, she padded into the sonic shower and let the ultrasonic waves blast her body clean of impurities. When the five-minute cycle ended, Riene grabbed a clean, light gray T-shirt and matching shorts. She knew some officers slept in robes or even actual pajamas. But she'd broken herself of such luxuries: robes and silky things didn't mix well with armor. By wearing such utilitarian clothes to bed, she could be prepared for a crisis in much less time.

She almost reached her bed when the door buzzer sounded. She cast a wearily angry gaze at the hatch. “Who is it?” she growled.

Rather than a voice, a series of electronic tones issued forth. Normally, it would be cause for joy. But Riene was too tired to frolic about.

Her hand slapped the door control. “What do you want?”

The black-clad officer at the door seemed mildly put off by his superior's appearance and demeanor. A tall man, with brilliant blue eyes and hair the color of wet sand on a beach, he knew Zend rather well. “I just thought I'd discuss the details of our infiltration operation, ma'am.”

Riene grunted. “Unfortunately, the Grand Admiral has scuttled that plan. And I do mean that both ways.”

A disappointed expression washed across the man's face. Riene supposed she shouldn't be quite so hard on him. He was her former regimental commander, one of the closest things to a friend she had within the Corps. “I haven't had the chance to change her mind about the actual operation.”

He nodded. “I see. Well, my men are ready should the order come through.”

Zend nodded. “Very well, Colonel. Oh, by the way...” She trailed off.

He looked at her quizzically, then she grabbed his head and planted a quick kiss on his mouth. “Maybe another time, Jon.”

“As you command,” the colonel smirked slightly and departed the doorjamb.

Riene shut the door behind her and crawled into bed, mind and body exhausted. But it was all worth it: the years of waiting were over. She would see the Imperial Remnant and New Republic burn at her feet. That wonderful, comforting thought helped her drift off to sleep all the quicker.
_________________
Chief Marshal Riene Zend

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Last edited by Riene Zend on Sun, May 02nd 2010 09:43am; edited 1 time in total
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Riene Zend
Moff


Joined: 18 Jun 2009
Posts: 118
Location: Arquebusier

 Post Posted: Sun, May 02nd 2010 06:24pm    Post subject:
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Riene looked down, her blue eyes wide and fierce. Her athletic form was shaking, as if cold, yet glistened and dripped with sweat. Her chest heaved as she breathed deeply, pressing against the strong hands that reached up to her. Her own hands were wrapped about half-way around each forearm, and she began to sink into those strong arms.

Victory over the rebel scum had brought its own rush, but Zend found nothing wrong with a private little victory celebration. So, once she'd been debriefed by the Grand Admiral, she quickly tracked down her dear colonel for a debriefing of another sort. Even though the man was over a decade her senior, Riene still found him very attractive. Granted, she could've had someone closer to her age—and indeed she had a short-list of playmates for when that was what she desired—but none of them could match her former commanding officer in skill and stamina. And Riene didn't feel like playing with a pretty boy; she needed a real man for a proper celebration of this magnitude.

As she fell into his arms, Riene thanked her dear colonel with a kiss on the lips. The gesture was incredibly significant, coming from Zend. While other couples may have preferred to sloppily exchange saliva while physically engaged, Riene reserved the loving touch of her lips to the few men she truly cared for. The rest were mere playthings; they were getting enough out of the deal and Zend wasn't going to imply an emotional connection where one didn't exist.

He lightly touched her damp, blonde hair, stroking it softly. A gentle nuzzle at his cheek noted her appreciation, but the words she whispered in his ear were far from gentle. Their celebration had gone on for some time and perhaps he had a bit too much stamina this time. Some profanely-phrased commands spelled out what Riene desired of him, as well as ideally speeding things along.

The colonel held her tight, his intense blue eyes locking with hers. His sandy-brown hair was almost coffee-colored from sweat. He'd looked out for her when she was under his command, even reciprocating her interest in what was at first a strictly physical relationship. But he knew she cared for him, and he for her. And so, he squeezed her just a bit more tightly against him and did his best to carry out her commands...



Riene exited the sonic shower, clean but quite tired. Her lover had declined the offer to use her refresher; instead, he'd quickly dressed himself while she'd showered and waited for her to bid him farewell. Zend donned a bathrobe and embraced the colonel warmly. “Thank you for coming by, Jon.”

He lightly touched her cheek. “Anytime, Riene.”

She stood on the balls of her feet, elevating herself a bit to give him a final, lingering kiss. Then Colonel Jon Ritch departed from her quarters. Riene walked back to the refresher, changing into her usual nightclothes: a t-shirt and undershorts. She glanced briefly at a small, transparisteel cabinet. However, she opted against the nightcap; just because the hated Republic had had its military leader destroyed earlier didn't mean the game was over. Their second command tier had to be cleared away... as did the civilian Chief of State. Then, with the terrorists and the traitors decapitated, taking back the Galaxy would be an easy matter.

Riene sat on the edge of her bed, idly touching the immaculately tucked-in sheets. They were crisp and cool, unused and undisturbed since her return to the True Empire's space. She wondered if perhaps the bed should have been used for her prior activities, given the chafing on her legs and forearms where they rubbed against the carpeted deck. Live and learn...

She pulled the sheet back and slid underneath. The cool fabric was a soothing comfort to the mildly rug-burned areas of her body. Her duties for the day were done, her responsibilities and relaxations finished. She'd already planned out what she needed to accomplish the following day.

Zend put her head on the pillow, and in moments, was fast asleep. A few murmurs escaped her lips as she dreamed pleasant dreams of conquest and power and passion.
_________________
Chief Marshal Riene Zend

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Last edited by Ams Jendob on Sun, May 26th 2013 11:37am; edited 1 time in total
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