fandomhigh | Macro-Tactics, Monday, Period One

Class was held in the Danger Shop -- not because Kerrigan was intending to render any large landscapes this time, but because it made it infinitely easier for her to project a few smaller things, maps, simulations, that kind of thing. As it stood, the room was large, metallic, in possession of a few screens, chairs, and a massive round table in the center of the room that, for the moment, was still a dullish black.

"I'm Lieutenant Sarah Kerrigan," she announced, the rank she hadn't held in years rolling easily off her tongue. "Welcome to Macro-tactics. Some of you have taken classes by me before; to you, I'm saying you're in luck. We're going to be a little less hands-on for this one."

She tilted her head, eyes flicking over each and every one of the students present. Memorizing, perhaps. (Really, she was listening) "Macro-tactics. The art of war from a top-down perspective, if you will. Remember that when you engage in a war, if you're at the head, you're the one putting lives on the line, and people are going to die for you. If you can't deal with that, get the hell out of the War Room."

There. That might give their ethically-inclined brains a little shock to the system.

"What we're going to be talking about is resources. Troop placement. Extensive maneuvers. You have to be able to manage every detail of a strategy from the top without getting involved yourself. Most wars aren't about whose strategies are the most perfect, but about who makes the least mistakes, so here's lesson number one: don't make them." Her lips widened into a smile. "So learn to do the impossible, kids. It's always interesting."

She leaned back. "I'm your very first teacher of the semester," she said, "Which means none of you should be sick of introductions yet. Name, I don't care about your class, and give me one battle, personal, historical or fictional, that interests you. And why. Nobody cares if you can drop a name. Oh, and do tell me if you think you'd be capable of sending men into battle."

Then her eyes flicked to one last section of the room. "Frost," she said, "See me after class."

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

With responsibility.

And/or be listened in on. It's how we roll.

You know how this goes: name, an interesting battle (and why it's interesting), capacity for sending men into battle to die for you.

Not that Kerrigan won't judge the last one for herself.

Kerrigan's available during and after the class, lurking near the back of the metal room and eying the screens critically.

Let me know down here if Kerrigan can or cannot read your student!

Might be slowish for a bit, as I'm up for intros at school, too.

Karla's got her shields. She's not fully shielded, but she's definitely not broadcasting and if someone unfamiliar comes snooping around, she'll notice.

Karla

Leia Organa

Karla was there, trying to figure out which battle to talk about. Her Realm had been at peace for almost 50,000 years. She didn't know much about what had happened then.

As for personal battles? They were personal.

"Leia Organa," Leia said. "A battle I find interesting is the Battle of Geonosis, since my parents were there and it was the beginning of the Clone Wars, which led to the fall of the Republic and the current political situation in my home galaxy." She shrugged a little. "I haven't had to send men into battle to die yet, but I know I will have to. I don't believe in needless sacrifice, but I'll do what I have to to restore peace and justice to the galaxy."

Leia's not anywhere near a Jedi yet, so she's not shielding, but she'd probably be quite a bit fuzzier and harder to read than your average person.

"Karla," she said when it was her turn. "And I can't think of one that suits. I'm a Healer; battles just mean more work for me, while I do my best to keep people's insides from becoming their outsides."

She considered Kerrigan's last question for a moment, the ticking countdown until she formed her Court growing louder for a minute. "I don't know how well I'll handle sending people out to die for me. But it's something that will have to be done, which means that it is something that I will do. I'm here so that when I have to, I can do so with the fewest casualties."

Edited 2010-08-30 05:52 (UTC)

James of Krondor

His mind wandered.

Every time he tried to focus on which battle he should discuss (Armengar, fortified city overrun by magic and sheer troop numbers? Highcastle, outnumbered by the remainder of the army what attacked Armengar, defending a tiny mountain fort? The battles with the Black Slayers, beings of evil that would not stop unless consumed by fire or removal of their hearts), he kept thinking about another 'battle' in the joy shop in town.

Without so much as a glance in her direction, he used his ordinary senses to keep sentry on that blonde.

"James, Squire to the Prince of the Kingdom of the Isles," he started. "I was at the Battle of Armengar, where an army of thirty thousand men, Dark Brothers, giants, trolls, and such sieged a walled city almost designed for defense, and won past the gates." He smiled, bitterly, remembering. "We had a few surprises for them at the last. And I would rather keep the men alive than use them as wall fodder."

James is readable.

Shane Gooseman

Cloud Strife

Totally readable. He's always numb though, so I wonder what's there to read.

Oh, Kerrigan; Cloud had almost missed that mildly threatening speech.

Almost.

Still, charisma or not, Cloud didn't regret signing up.

"Cloud. The fight in Fort Tamblin. A single man defeated the strongest defense point single-handedly." What could he say? Zack was inspiring like that.

"And...I haven't sent anyone to fight for me yet, but if I had to, I would do it."

Cally's not leaking thoughts, but doesn't have any Keep Out screens; if anything she's consciously trying to sense other telepaths around. She'd notice, though, unless Kerrigan was deliberately cloaking her presence.

Cally

Cally certainly didn't have an easy answer to that question prepared; she hadn't expected to be in this class, let alone answer such a question. She couldn't help sending a look composed of equal parts curiosity and wariness at the instructor as she did her best to think on the spot.

"My name is Cally; my people don't have battles. We're isolationists, and so far, no one from outside has tried to change that." So far. How long would it be, though? The Federation wouldn't ignore them forever, no matter what the current council believed. It took a breath and the realization that not being at home meant she didn't have to be circumspect in her views, for Cally to add, "I don't entirely agree with that policy; there are battles worth fighting, even if they're not our own."

Cally found herself staring - probably impolitely, but at least it was a class and she was meant to be looking anyway - at the instructor before she even began speaking. There was power there, great power being held in check, and it wasn't entirely human, no matter how ordinary the woman looked.

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