Imperial Naval Headquarters

[Marrek Tan]

Admiral Tan slammed his hand into his desk roughly, scattering papers everywhere. He was watching the holonet. The Senate meeting. A deep frown creased his young -- comparatively -- brow. His father, Nasatweed Tan, had been much older when he'd gotten this far along.

But Marrek had shown something his Father hadn't. A certain brilliance, maybe? Or that tactician's hotheadedness, that caused him to make split-second decisions. -- Or maybe someone higher up had screwed up.

He didn't look, really, like his Father. -- In fact, if his looks were to be compared to anyone's, they were more like his Father's favorite old rival, Zekk Alvarion's. Certainly, his bone structure, and his eyes, and his hair, his nose.. none of those were Zekk's. But the way he carried himself, his clothing, his style, his manner of being, if you will. They were all reminiscent of the bastard Marrek had heard all about.

While the older Tan had held to the strict, old Imperialistic style of straight-backed, everything-in-order, stiff-collared suits, and "bounce-a-dime-off-your-bed", Marrek was a bit more laid back. His suit, while well-taken-care of, might show a few wrinkles here or there. His hair hung down in his face.

It would be nigh on impossible to call him a Tan, by looking at him. But seeing him in action? You'd know who his father was. He retained the military intelligence, the brightness that allowed them both to carry through a battle, and to grace a system with the Imperial logo.

-- But this wasn't about that. The Senate meeting, as Marrek watched it, declared that the recent battles that the Imperials fought -- were fighting -- were rousing the Republic to action. Decisive action. A vote was to take place. And it looked like they were done delegating.

A Republic gone to War wasn't something that boded all too well for the Imperials, for all their ships, and all their tactics. The Imperials had had the jump on the Republicans a few times, here or there, but now they wanted an all out war -- at least, so it seemed. A few wanted to attempt a truce, which would, in all honesty, give the Imperials a chance. A large chance. Time.

Time which, in the right hands.. could prove devastating...

He sank into his chair, exhaused, and ran a gloved hand through his messy hair, sighing aloud, "Th' bast'rds aren' g'tt'n' aw'y th's time."

He paused, before calling in a droid from outside his office, and giving it explicit instructions -- He wanted the tactical readouts of the Battles of Thyferra, Korriban, and Geonosis. He wanted to know what had happened, when, where. Who had issued what order. Everything he could.

The droid hurried away to get the information -- what was available at that time, anyhow, and Tan sighed again, Where are our blood-suckers?