Snippet #2780095

located in Fort Veritas, a part of The Multiverse, one of the many universes on RPG.

Fort Veritas

A heavily guarded military installation converted from an abandoned military building, Fort Veritas sits about a half a mile (and not quite a kilometer) away from the actual highway. It is surrounded by tall, reinforced walls with guard towers. To enter, you need to pass through the security station manned by fully armed military officers. A series of buildings in various stages of construction sit inside the walls. The central building is a low-lying, concrete structure that appears to be only one story. This is the headquarters of the Terran Armed Forces (TAF.)

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Božidar Dvořák Character Portrait: Andrew Pinheiro da Varona Character Portrait: Salma Y. H. Khayyam Character Portrait: Mitth'raw'nuruodo
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Hartblay's undress grays contrasted noticeably with Thrawn's dress whites, with Varona's combat blacks, and Božidar's civilian suit and tie. (A necktie that Božidar seemed only to tolerate minimally.) It was an odd sight, the mismatched uniforms with the lone civilian holdout, though Božidar knew Varona ​― technically a civilian now that he was Defense Minister and not Grand Admiral, the rank that only Fātiḥ Sayılgan had ever held in the Terran Armed Forces ​― had chosen uniform to send a not so subtle message about his position today. It occurred to ​Božidar that Grand Admiral Sayılgan's absence from the meeting might also serve as some message to the insubordinate Chiss. After all, Thrawn fell under Sayılgan's command, and Sayılgan under Varona and then Prime Minister Khayyam.

Varona struck an imposing figure, his long curls suggesting a bit of rebelliousness not typical of a career soldier, the sleek black metal of his wheelchair suggesting what sacrifices he'd made through his service, his combat blacks suggesting he had no time for nonsense, frivolity, or the shenanigans of recalcitrant upstarts and miscreants. With the sterile air of the base's conference room and the faint hum of the HVAC system churning in the background, the setup laid bare the lines of power. No need for such ostentatious shows and crass dick-measuring contests, as the intelligence director would often say. Varona tilted his chin back ever so slightly, dismissing the old crone's voice from his head.

There were about a half dozen things Varona could say, and he'd run through each of them before Thrawn's shuttle had even landed. Most of the scenarios he'd envisioned ended with him throttling or impaling the Chiss to great satisfaction. But out of respect (however little) to his colleague, Varona instead chose to keep it simple and at least physically nonviolent.

"What the ever-loving fuck do you think you've been doing out there, admiral?"

And only from Varona, and perhaps one or two other people at most ― the intelligence director among them, could the rank of "admiral" come out sounding like the most foul and degrading insult.

As if in afterthought, Varona dismissed Hartblay, who all but fled the room, the door shutting noiselessly behind him.