Laurent de Sancartier, heir regent and current Lord Imperator Dictate stood aboard his command ship, gazing outward with a sense of the good old buccaneer days of the galaxy--ready to conquer whole systems, and lay waste to the Imperial Remnant and the Republic alike... save that his ship didn't work.

Angrily, the Lord Imperator turned to his commodore, his foot tapping impatiently against the hard metallic flooring of the bridge. The observation deck was several floors up, entirely encased in glass--but Laurent wanted to be where the action was, where the excitement reigned.

"My lord Imperator, we are currently just preparing for our final preparations on the shield frequencies. I am merely waiting on Engineer Braxail au Chante to deliver the final report on the shield delivery system."

"Be quick Commodore Laurier de Quinos, you have already tried my patience enough today." Laurent turned his back on the good commodore, his eyes already settled on the vastness of space ahead of him. The shield generator for the Nebulon-B Frigate had been fickle for he past week, but the engineer had promised an end to the energy conservation issues. Today marked the first day that the Spirit of Fire would be tested and her shields put to use. Laurent was lost in thought, neglecting to notice that the engineer had already stepped off the repulsorlift and was giving his report to the commodore. The commodore, on his part, was reluctant to break the silence that Laurent had created--but did so to get underway with the trials.

"We are ready My lord Imperator. The Soul of Water and Soul of Earth have moved into position in front of the Nebulon. Shield polarization has been confirmed and rechecked and the systems appear to be running at an efficiency rating of one-two-oh percent, above parameters as specified by yourself." The commodore seemed happy with his report, handing the datapad to Laurent to examine. The Imperator did not take it, simply glancing at the items listed on the pad before letting the commodore take it away.

"Be done with it, inform the Souls to charge they forward guns and commence firing..." Laurent turned his head back to the forward viewing port, watching as the Tartan patrol cruisers began the warm up process for their guns, targetting the Nebulon-B Frigate. It took mere moments, then the forward guns on the cruisers unleashed their first volley against the Nebulon. The viewing port lit up from the shield impacts, but they held strong. "Very good," Laurent stated, watching as the free-firing from the cruisers impacted the shields. Officers on the bridge were running through the systems, detecting surges and power outputs to make sure that no system failed during the exercise. A man at the front of the room was monitoring the rate of decline in the shield generators--a report that would be handed into the Imperator. If he didn't like the results, the engineer would undoubtedly die. "Very good," he repeated, smiling.

"Braxail, what say you I make you a Baron, and give you land on Nanta-Ri?" That made the man smile, "that is good--because governing is a difficult task, so you had better become equipped with it. But first, communications! Send to the Ghosts to prepare a salvo of concussion missiles. We need to test the capabilities of the shields under extenuating circumstances."

"My lord!" Braxail flailed with nauseating worry suddenly, stepping in front of the commodore and and placing a firm hand on the sleeve of Lauren de Sancartier's ironed and freshly pressed tunic, "we dare not test concussion missiles at this point. They would devastate the shields, and they have never undergone capabilities to that extent."

"Do no presume that because you are close to baronhood you may touch me," was all the Imperator replied, pulling his arm away from the engineer visciously, "you said yourself the shields are at 120%, or do you now change that number?" The answer would mean his death either way, of that the engineer could be sure. To say no meant he had lied to get a better result, to say yes would prove him a liar.

"But of course my lord..."

"Very well," Laurent turned away from him, "if a single salvo can bring down the shields, then the ship is worthless to me... communications! Prepare to fire... By the way au Chante, I would hope this works... Communications! Fire!" The salvo launched from the Broadside vessels, absorbed by the shields as the missiles exploded. The shields held, though some of the systems began to fritz and spark. Laurent paid no heed to it, watching the brilliant fireworks display against the emitters.

Then something happened, a rift in the shielding; a buckle--then the shields had fallen, and four concussion missiles tore through the aft sections of the ship, causing critical damage to the lower sections, though nothing crucial was hit in the explosion. The bridge shook, and Braxail turned to face Laurent with his eyes wide....

That was the last expression the engineer ever made as Lord Imperator Dictate Laurent de Sancartier pulled the trigger on the single shot antique blaster that he often carried as a sign of his aristocratic position. The engineer fell backwards, a hole burrowed through his skull--brain melting outwards unto the floor.

"Get me another engineer, get this ship repaired, and get those shields back up." Laurent glared at the Commodore, his look indicative that the man may be looking at a similar fate.

(( Profile coming soon. ))