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[oom] Eiattu - Palace
Nov. 18th, 2006 01:43 amPlourr was in the middle of an informal audience with the governor of one of the planet's largest provinces when the aide interrupted and murmured in her ear that something had happened. She told him to define 'something,' and he had said the magic word: the Priamsta. She excused herself from the audience and left her office (something the palace was still atwitter over; princesses didn't have offices), and that was when she'd been told that Nental, one of Eiattu's larger cities, was in the process of being attacked by a group thought to be led by the rebelling nobles.
They were smart; going after the governmental buildings, the royally-operated or loyalist-run businesses rather than the ordinary people. Wouldn't do to alienate the people they were trying to gain control over, after all.
"I want Zee Squadron moving at all possible speed to Nental for air support. Who's in charge of the city's Guard? I need him on the comm ten minutes ago," Plourr snaps, cape and outer tunic lying crumpled on a table, sleeves rolled up to her elbows. It's still chaotic in the impromptou war room but less so than when she'd first entered and started setting things to rights.
She talks over the general buzz of voices, moving quickly from terminal to terminal and person to person, answering questions without hesitation and often in the middle of other sentences. "Someone tie in to the--yes, do that--to the newsfeeds; see what they're reporting, if we're not getting through on the official channels."
She bends over a terminal alongside a low level tech, named Zhaleian if she's remembering correctly at all, and he brings up a holo of a local reporter, standing on what looks to be a building roof. The dull whine-whump of heavy blaster and cannon bolts can be heard, and occasionally flash in the distance over the female reporter's head. Plourr watches and listens, her face tight and well under control, but furious.
They were smart; going after the governmental buildings, the royally-operated or loyalist-run businesses rather than the ordinary people. Wouldn't do to alienate the people they were trying to gain control over, after all.
"I want Zee Squadron moving at all possible speed to Nental for air support. Who's in charge of the city's Guard? I need him on the comm ten minutes ago," Plourr snaps, cape and outer tunic lying crumpled on a table, sleeves rolled up to her elbows. It's still chaotic in the impromptou war room but less so than when she'd first entered and started setting things to rights.
She talks over the general buzz of voices, moving quickly from terminal to terminal and person to person, answering questions without hesitation and often in the middle of other sentences. "Someone tie in to the--yes, do that--to the newsfeeds; see what they're reporting, if we're not getting through on the official channels."
She bends over a terminal alongside a low level tech, named Zhaleian if she's remembering correctly at all, and he brings up a holo of a local reporter, standing on what looks to be a building roof. The dull whine-whump of heavy blaster and cannon bolts can be heard, and occasionally flash in the distance over the female reporter's head. Plourr watches and listens, her face tight and well under control, but furious.
