Two Roads Diverged...

[Vansen Tyree]

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

This post occurs a few days after the events of Raids, Rogues and Arithmatic

Star Cruiser Valiant - Orbiting Mon Calamari

- - -

Vansen Tyree stood at the viewport of his quarters aboard the Valiant, and sighed at the prospect of it being the last time. His service aboard had been shortlived; only two years had passed since they'd reassigned him from the Liberator after Endor, although the relative isolation of their lone hit-and-fade missions upon Imperial supply lines had made it feel longer; certainly long enough for the ship and its stark Mon Cal interior to start feeling like home.

As he stared out at the starfield, one of the construction facilities that orbited the Mon Calamari homeworld drifted into view. Inside - her grey hull a stark contrast to the white of the surrounding vessels - lay his new command, the engineers making the last few modifications to her before she was finally launched. Not as large as the Imperator Star Destroyer that Vansen had commanded for the Empire, the Dauntless-class Heavy Cruiser still dwarfed the Valiant's meagre 505 meters, and her crew was near ten times the size. The datapad that Admiral Reshmar had presented him with during their meeting told him that Alliance Command had named her the Horizon; it also told him that he was being bumped up to Line Captain, but he was trying not to think about that.

As if a larger ship and a larger crew wasn't punishment enough, Tyree was to have command over four other ships as well. The datapad called the unit - a Nebulon-B, a Liberator Cruiser, a Corellian Corvette, and the Valiant - the 103rd Interdictor Squadron. Vansen thought '103rd Excessive Paperwork Farm' would have been more appropriate; '103-EPF' made for a much punchier abbreviation as well. The Captain had asked why he couldn't command the unit from aboard the Valiant; Reshmar's answer had been infuriatingly logical, although the specifics illuded Tyree for the moment.

At least his mission objective was the same, and he supposed his suggestions that the lack of support was hampering the effectiveness of the Valiant's operations had been taken onboard. If he'd known what the outcome of such complaints would be at the time, he would have known to keep his mouth shut. What on Rendili were these Rebels thinking, doling out promotions and rewards to Officers with initiative? Give him the political pandering and backstabbing of the Imperial over that any day: made it much easier to keep your head down and avoid notice.

Vansen bowed his head slightly, and actually managed a laugh at the irony. It was funny to consider how well his mind had adapted to his changing circumstances over the years. It took the Clone Wars to make him think of himself as a Commander rather than a pilot; a decade of service to the Empire to think of himself as an Imperial rather than a Republican; then the distruction of a planet to think of himself as a Rebel. It was funny to think that he viewed each new stage in his life with outrage, up until that stage threatened to end. There was probably a word for people like him - the ones resistant to change. Lucky for him, his resolve against it had been less strong than with others: he felt truly sorry for those so stuck in their ways that they couldn't see what was happening in the galaxy around them.

The door chimed; Vansen vented one last sigh from his lungs before turning to face the entrance to his quarters. Back to business he supposed, retrieving the datapad from the corner of his caff table and clasping it behind his back. "Come."