Jack isn't the only troubled kid that General Pitchiner has had under his watch, even if this particular one has managed to earn a soft spot somehow. So he has patience enough when protocol isn't followed, but the respect is still there, or effort is still made. The corner of his eyes turn in a small smile, and he nods. Of course. His chin tips upward in response to Jack's suggestion, and though he doesn't say yes, or even nod, there's a playfully reproachful agreement in his expression.
The General loses sight of Jack soon enough, another officer taking his attention. The word to move out is giving shortly, and the fleet is on its way.
The tip of Orion's sword was far enough to wage battle, but close enough to be uncomfortable. While the dream pirates marauded in most every galaxy now, the army had yet pushed back enough that they didn't manage to make it to the most populated stars. The fleet arrives at the location, met with some of the Star Captains that had rendezvoused.
But there was nothing to greet them. The sleek, sinister ships were nowhere to be seen, only the emptiness of space.
Maybe they had arrived early enough that the dream pirates hadn't been detected. More likely, they'd discovered, somehow, that their plans were found out, and had altered course.
Many of the soldiers were at their stations, manning guns or awaiting deployment in their individual schooners. Some were in forerunners, checking nearby. But as time and silence dragged on with no sight or tell of the fearlings, murmurings and misgivings spread through the crew, many of whom were in file on deck. General Pitchiner stood tall at the fore of them, sword at his side and a calm demeanor, though an unknown anxiety settled in his stomach, discomfited him. Something was amiss. He trusted his navigators, and they had double-checked both the original report and their current location - there was no mistake.
"Lord Pitchiner!" The panicked voice shattered the silence and startled many of the crew who went promptly for their weapons before relaxing. "Sir-- the dream pirates--" A young ensign stumbled to a halt in front of the general, barely remembering to salute.
The dread in his stomach spread upward and clutched at his lungs, making it difficult to breathe. "Speak," Pitchiner said with a rare curt impatience. It was something that should have been whispered urgently in hushed tones, not announced to the entire crew, but the panicked, inexperienced boy's voice carries. "General Pitchiner, sir, the dream pirates -- they've gone round the asteroids defenses somehow -- they're headed for your home, sir."
He's always kept his calm, for the most part, only getting as heated in battle as would be expected of a soldier, and he does so now, mostly. But the colour drains entirely from his face, and there is a split second where he freezes. He speaks to the officer at his right. "Get the fleet turned about, now. I want every ship going faster than it's ever gone before, understood?"
The general addresses the rest of the crew, tone an unnervingly low one that can somehow still be clearly heard. "To your stations. Be ready to engage."
He stands in the middle of the deck as men and women rush around him with an urgency different from the normal raucous of active battle, wordlessly watching, mind on anything but the sailors around him. His wife, his daughter, his home. They knew, they knew and they had tricked him. He had been fooled by the most childish of tactics and now his family was in danger. His hands clench into fists until his knuckles are stretched white, but his countenance remains stonily impassive.
no subject
The General loses sight of Jack soon enough, another officer taking his attention. The word to move out is giving shortly, and the fleet is on its way.
The tip of Orion's sword was far enough to wage battle, but close enough to be uncomfortable. While the dream pirates marauded in most every galaxy now, the army had yet pushed back enough that they didn't manage to make it to the most populated stars. The fleet arrives at the location, met with some of the Star Captains that had rendezvoused.
But there was nothing to greet them. The sleek, sinister ships were nowhere to be seen, only the emptiness of space.
Maybe they had arrived early enough that the dream pirates hadn't been detected. More likely, they'd discovered, somehow, that their plans were found out, and had altered course.
Many of the soldiers were at their stations, manning guns or awaiting deployment in their individual schooners. Some were in forerunners, checking nearby. But as time and silence dragged on with no sight or tell of the fearlings, murmurings and misgivings spread through the crew, many of whom were in file on deck. General Pitchiner stood tall at the fore of them, sword at his side and a calm demeanor, though an unknown anxiety settled in his stomach, discomfited him. Something was amiss. He trusted his navigators, and they had double-checked both the original report and their current location - there was no mistake.
"Lord Pitchiner!" The panicked voice shattered the silence and startled many of the crew who went promptly for their weapons before relaxing. "Sir-- the dream pirates--" A young ensign stumbled to a halt in front of the general, barely remembering to salute.
The dread in his stomach spread upward and clutched at his lungs, making it difficult to breathe. "Speak," Pitchiner said with a rare curt impatience. It was something that should have been whispered urgently in hushed tones, not announced to the entire crew, but the panicked, inexperienced boy's voice carries. "General Pitchiner, sir, the dream pirates -- they've gone round the asteroids defenses somehow -- they're headed for your home, sir."
He's always kept his calm, for the most part, only getting as heated in battle as would be expected of a soldier, and he does so now, mostly. But the colour drains entirely from his face, and there is a split second where he freezes. He speaks to the officer at his right. "Get the fleet turned about, now. I want every ship going faster than it's ever gone before, understood?"
The general addresses the rest of the crew, tone an unnervingly low one that can somehow still be clearly heard. "To your stations. Be ready to engage."
He stands in the middle of the deck as men and women rush around him with an urgency different from the normal raucous of active battle, wordlessly watching, mind on anything but the sailors around him. His wife, his daughter, his home. They knew, they knew and they had tricked him. He had been fooled by the most childish of tactics and now his family was in danger. His hands clench into fists until his knuckles are stretched white, but his countenance remains stonily impassive.