LOl you are killing me.. its "Vinegar Joe", my grandfather was a marauder in Burma...
Controversial Imaah “Chesty” Chehesti, General, Imperial Marines, Retired Today
- Thread starter david.wendelken
- Start date
LOl you are killing me.. its "Vinegar Joe", my grandfather was a marauder in Burma...
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oops.. i was mistaken...
Don't feel bad.
My Google-Fu is strong
I had not heard of either of them and now I got to read about both of them because of your comment.
So, Thank you.
I figured she was a name take off on Chesty Puller and didn't worry about it. She sounds kinda like my mom in that she didn't put up with much.
Back when I was in high school she worked in a bar. Due to local regulations only beer was sold. Some guy came in and got very drunk. He declared he was going to climb over the bar and start punching the watresses.
By the time my mother got done with him, verbally, he not only backed down, he apologized, then turned himself over to the police. Who came in the bar and asked about it. One of the other patrons told the police the guy had messed with the wrong woman. Apparently one of the knew her, and took the very drunk guy to jail.
I think he came back about a month later, apologized again, and never came back.
Back when I was in high school she worked in a bar. Due to local regulations only beer was sold. Some guy came in and got very drunk. He declared he was going to climb over the bar and start punching the watresses.
By the time my mother got done with him, verbally, he not only backed down, he apologized, then turned himself over to the police. Who came in the bar and asked about it. One of the other patrons told the police the guy had messed with the wrong woman. Apparently one of the knew her, and took the very drunk guy to jail.
I think he came back about a month later, apologized again, and never came back.
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Condottiere
SOC-14 5K
Staff Sergeant Khashi Mouse Khurlushasun, Unified Army of Rhylanor, apparently has an impressive vocabulary of Vilani swear words and phrases.
I heard that song the first time it came out on the radio.
My mother tried to sign up for the US Army when WW2 started, they turned her down. She told me after I was in the Navy that if a police officer hadn't been standing there, she would have decked the recruiter. She had been hunting rabbits and squirrels to feed the family before she started high school. She was a crack shot with a .22 rifle. She was just over 5 foot 5 inches tall, and never weighed more than 100 pounds.
david.wendelken
SOC-12
Correct!
They called him "Cider Joe" because he wasn't quite as sour as his old man, "Vinegar Joe".
david.wendelken
SOC-12
And on a related note, Marc Miller sent out a message to his Kickstarter backers that included this:
"For those of you that it affects, be thinking about your Free Trader name."
So, as Baroness of Byret/Mora, Imaah Chehesti set up a freighter to bring in things off the normal commercial schedule. That's because Byret is more agricultural so the most of the cargo ships only show up around harvest times.
I'll need a name for the first vessel in the fleet. I'm aiming for an Empress Marava class vessel. Somehow, it seemed appropriate for the Chehesti holdings...
I'm thinking about "Chehesti Hauler" or, dare I suggest, "The Chehesti Puller".
Any other suggestions?
MThompson016
SOC-12
M/V Chehesti's Puller is nice, but how about "M/V Victor of Gaugir" in reference to an accomplishment?
Given the bibliography of the character as related in this thread, M/V Chehesti's Puller is the perfect fit.
david.wendelken
SOC-12
Yes, I think so too!
david.wendelken
SOC-12
Approach Vector to Efate, Regina Subsector, Spinward Marches, 1108
“Pre-Jump Exit check completed, ma’am,” said the grizzled man in the navigator’s seat.“Roger, Imar,” responded the mature woman in the pilot’s chair. “Exit from Jump Space commences in 5 – 4 – 3 – 2 – 1 – Checkpoint.”
“Navigation controls operational, check.”
“Pilot controls operational, check.”
“Collision free trajectory, check.”
“Threat Level: Minimal. Nearest vessel 2 hours away, INS Philippides, a …” pausing as he pulled up Library Data on his secondary terminal.
“Naval courier, Marathon class” interjected the pilot.
“Naval courier, Marathon class,” echoed Imar. “How do you always know?”
“Transponder broadcasting, check.”
“Starport Traffic Control signal vector beacon, check.”
“Navigation to Efate Downport pre-calculation valid, ma’am.”
“Very good, Imar!” exclaimed the pilot. “That’s four in a row! It’s time for you to take your Navigator’s exam. Time for me to tell our two guests that we’ll be in Efate in …”
“Thirty seven hours, ma’am.”
The pilot flipped a commo switch and said, “Attention: I am pleased to announce we have arrived safely in the Efate system and expect to be planetside in twelve hours, give or take a bit for the starport landing queue. You may leave your G-chairs and move about.” Formality over, she added, “And bring the little ones up to the bridge if you would like, it’s a lovely view.” She smiled as she heard the excited voices of two children clamoring to go.
“Iris gates and passenger compartments unlocked, check.”
“Efate Downport, this is Detached Duty IIS 17362, ‘Laser of Love’, Imaah Chehesti, Captain, requesting berthing. Cargo permit #Regina1358592. Over.” She paused to wait for the response which, given the distance to the planet and back, would take a few minutes. “I really hate to go through the extra paperwork required to bring goods into this system. Now I really understand why merchant captains hated to bring cargo to Byret when I interdicted incoming flights to stop arms shipments to the rebels.”
“Ma’am, the INS Philippides just accelerated and changed vector to intercept us!”
“Probably a pre-landing inspection. But let’s be sure, shall we?” She flipped the commo back to external broadcast as she increased the velocity of the ship to maximum speed towards the planet. “Efate Downport, please confirm identity of vessel whose transponder code registers as the INS Philippides.”
About that time, the commo system lit up with a tight-beam message indicator as her guests entered the cockpit, talking among themselves. Smiling at the children, she put her finger to her lips as she flipped the switch to receive it.
“Detached Duty IIS 17362, ‘Laser of Love’, this is INS Philippides. Plot a docking course based upon our approach vector, soonest. Over.”
“Will do. Must re-secure passengers, including small children, before making sudden course changes. Estimated time to secure passengers and plot new course, seventeen minutes. Over,” she replied, in a crisp, authoritative voice.
“Negatory, ‘Laser of Love’. IIS Authorization code: AV42Q548YR. Over.”
Imar looked up at the pilot, “The code checks out, ma’am.”
She responded, “INS Philippides, we will change course and speed soonest.”
She looked over at the children and said, “Sorry loves, it will take a little longer to see your daddy on Efate. But we’re going to visit that nice navy ship you can see on the overhead display first! And then you can tell your daddy all about it! Ok? Now, go back to your cabins and buckle up again. Imar will make sure you’re properly secured before we change course.”
With that, she cut her maneuver drives and started to plot a new course. Imar returned, strapped in, and she changed course to intercept the Philippides. She was interrupted a few minutes later by the commo gear broadcasting, “Detached Duty IIS 17362, ‘Laser of Love’, this is Efate Downport Traffic Control Center. Do not, repeat, do not proceed to Efate Downport. Locate and dock with INS Philippides soonest.”
“Ma’am, I do believe the Navy is serious about entertaining us.”
“Laser of Love, will do. Over.”
Less than an hour later they were docking with a cutter from the naval ship. Fifteen minutes later she was being piped aboard.
A young ensign awaited her outside the airlock. Imaah saluted and addressed him, “Permission to come aboard, sir.”
“Welcome, General. It is a pleasure to meet you!” he exclaimed after returning the salute. He stepped forward to shake her hand. Finished, he stepped back and said, “The captain will meet you in his cabin. This way, ma’am.”
Imaah followed the young officer through doglegged corridors that were a hallmark of the Marathon class ships. She noted that the crew were at their stations and fully alert. It was obviously a well-run ship. The ensign knocked on a cabin door and, hearing “Enter”, motioned for Imaah to proceed into the room.
Imaah stepped into the cabin and noted the captain was a fairly young man, which wasn’t all that surprising given the small size of a naval courier ship. Captain was obviously a courtesy title due to his position on board the ship, he was probably an ensign first class. None the less, he was obviously also a first class ensign and that was a sure way to earn her respect. She saluted and stood to attention. “Captain?”
“At ease. General Chehesti,” he began, but paused, as if searching for words.
“That would be General Chehesti, retired, unless you are about to tell me I’ve been recalled to active duty, sir,” she said with a roguish grin.
“Ma’am,” he responded with an equally infectious smile. “I’m not about to tell you that. I cannot speak for others on that topic. But I am commanded to request – in the strongest possible yet still polite terms – that you immediately accompany me to Regina. His Grace, Duke Norris, wants to meet with you there.”
“In some haste it appears. Can you tell me why?”
“No, ma’am. I am not at liberty to tell you.” He paused again, then looked her straight in the eye for several long seconds. “But I forget my manners. Before we continue, I need to see to the comfort of your crew and passengers and apologize for the delay. My cousin served with you on Gaargir and spoke very highly of you. I…” He paused again. “The latest news is on the table,” pausing again, with a nod to the table in the corner of the cabin, “in case you are bored waiting for me to return.” With that he abruptly left the cabin.
Imaah stared at the cabin door in sheer astonishment. Ship captains simply did not act like that, even to active duty Marine Generals, much less retired ones. And seeing personally to the comfort of her crew and passengers? Being concerned someone summoned to the ship for (presumably) some urgent purpose might be bored? It made no sense!
Then it clicked. She went over to the table and saw a printed sheaf of news feeds. Next to it was an open classified document with the Imperial Seal upon the cover, signifying an official communiqué from the Emperor. A yellow-sticky-arrow was pointing to a list of names and titles. Her name! And her title!? Baroness of Byret/Mora! <excessive Marine expletive> spewed out of her mouth. What the hell was this list? The Emperor’s Birthday Honours List. Twice a year the Emperor published a list of those who had been granted (or revoked) Imperial noble rank and she was now a baronesss. Baroness!? What kind of <expletive> would make her a noble? Oh, God. Byret/Mora? The one planet in the Imperium that was chock full of people that would be glad to kill her. She stepped back, instinctively recoiling away from the document.
The captain re-entered the cabin. One look at her suddenly pale face told him his ploy had worked. He smiled, and began again, “Now, I need you to accompany us back to Regina immediately to meet with His Grace.”
“Yes, of course, Captain. But I have a responsibility to crew and passengers. Sgt Major Geshvii, my aide-de-camp, is not a qualified starship pilot and Imperial regulations require a crew of two or more if there are passengers aboard…”
“General, I will supply a crew to land your ship in Efate, take on cargo, conduct such business as is needful, and return with your ship to Regina. Sgt. Major Imar Geshvii can stay with your ship or travel with you, whichever you would prefer. In addition, His Grace commands me to inform you that, after arrival in Regina, we will deliver your ship anywhere in the Marches you instruct us to.”
She noted that he knew Imar’s first name, which meant he no doubt had read a full dossier on her. “Yes, Captain, I see. Geshvii will come with me. I’ll need to explain the change to my passengers. “ And, she thought, watch my back in case there that list has leaked out and the rebels on Byret come off planet looking for me.
Thirty minutes later they were en route out of Efate system heading towards Regina. It would take her six weeks to get to Regina in the Laser of Love. The Philippides would get her there in a week.
david.wendelken
SOC-12
Remembrance of Times Past
General Imaah Chehesti stood in her assigned stateroom on the Philippides – lately vacated by a midshipman who had been bumped into lesser quarters – and looked at the two worn and frayed marine-issued dufflebags with her name and rank stenciled on them. It was all she possessed in the world except for her starship, the Laser of Love. Well, that wasn’t even hers, it was just on loan from the Imperial Scouts. A few flight suits, a pair of full dress maroon uniforms, a little black dress with some wicked heels (which she still looked good in despite being 46!), a formal gown and shoes, swimwear, undergarments and toiletries in the first bag. The second held her service file and awards, an Imperial Marine-issue gauss rifle with generous amounts of ammo , her officer’s cutlass and an Iridium flask full of the finest bourbon. Not much for a lifetime of service.But enough.
More than enough.
And now there was Byret. An 8,800 kilometer diameter, vivid blue and green jewel set in the void of Imperial space. Huge grain fields interspersed between primeval forests, rugged mountains, and quartz sea-beds reflecting dazzling light back through clear, unspoiled water. And the air! Air so thick and pure it made you feel twenty years younger!
And then there were the Larianz… Watching them follow the air currents and hunt on the wing was an exhilarating sight
She browsed through the library data on the ship’s computer but she knew what it contained already. There did not appear to be much change in the last five years – at least not in the official records. The rebels had been quiet and appeared to have gone back to what work there was to be had – mostly unskilled agricultural jobs. The landlords and agribusiness combines had gone back to ruling through an officially impartial bureaucracy.
But what had happened to the prior noble family? She had never met them, they were absentee nobility that ruled thru a local factor. A look through the ships library data revealed they had been assassinated three years ago. No one was caught for the crime but what leads there were pointed back to insurgency members who were unhappy about the outcome of their rebellion.
david.wendelken
SOC-12
A Day at the Graces, First Heat
Imaah, the taciturn Imar Geshvii at her side, stood in silence in Duke Norris’ waiting room. Aside from the guards at the door they were alone.Norris knew Chehesti’s dossier by heart. He glanced thru Geshvii’s to learn the relevant points.
Norris was a handsome man and a born leader. Smart too. It was obvious at a glance even if she didn’t know his ability as a Naval Intelligence officer. It had been Norris’ idea to give an award to Senators Zhumacte and von Rainhault for their political obstruction during the Byret campaign which made a laughingstock out of the opposition party in the Moot for quite some time. The price her career had paid had been well worth it. He was standing next to an attractive young woman.
“Imaah! I’m very glad you chose to visit me!” He glanced towards the young woman. “My daughter and heir, Seldrian.” Ah, yes. Seldrian was a clone of Norris, which explained the resemblance.
“May I call you Imaah, General Chehesti? Father has spoken so highly of you that I feel that I already know you well.” Imaah nodded, unsure of how to proceed.
The Duke spoke up. “Imaah, I know how you like to be briefed on a situation. First the objectives. Then the facts. Then hypotheses with a plan to verify the key ones, where possible. Then the proposed plan of action. Short, sweet, and to the point. Have I remembered it well?”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Good. Objectives. Stability and prosperity of the Imperium in general and the Spinward Marches in particular. Improved freedom for Imperial citizens. Weaken political opposition to the course of action we both know needs to be taken to secure the Marches from the Zhodani threat.”
“Facts. The sector Imperial Naval Admiral, Santanocheev, is an idiot and an ass. Worse, he is inept. We are bound to lose when war breaks out with him in charge. Agreed?”
“Absolutely, sir. Santanocheev stinks worse than the regimental latrine during an outbreak of hemorrhagic diarrhea. And it’s my birthday, sir, so I’m feeling charitable towards the oaf.”
“Good to see you haven’t lost your touch with words, Imaah!” Norris smiled and continued, “Fact: To really win the war, the Zhodani need to besiege and take Mora. Hypothesis: They will need a breadbasket to support their units in Mora sector during the siege. They won’t be able to count on shipping bulk foodstuffs that distance. They will need something closer. “
“Byret,” interjected Imaah.
Seldrian’s face lit up. “Father, I told you she would make the connection quick as can be!”
“Yes, Imaah. Byret. I need someone who can prevent the Zhodani from feeding their forces in the sector from Byret’s bounty. I need someone who can take a technologically backwards guerilla force and deny them the use of that planet!”
“Your Grace, that technologically backwards guerilla force spent several years trying to kill me. Most of them would probably like to give it another go. Byret is in Duchess Delphine’s demesne, Santanocheev is her do-no-wrong nephew. They won’t be providing any help. And it doesn’t sound like I’ll have the Imperial Marines and Army to back me up this time.”
“No, Imaah, you won’t. But we need the job done and you’re the only one we know who can do it. Plus, of course, it puts you right in the middle of Delphine’s sphere of influence. She won’t be able to leave you out of councils without losing face as you’re very popular with Imperial Citizens across all social spectrums. That will give us an inside track into her councils. More accurately, it will after you assume your title of Baroness of Byret.”
Imaah looked at Norris long and hard. “Baroness? Oh, well, that makes it all better.” She paused. “Are you serious? If the rebels don’t kill me, the wealthy plantation owners will. Don’t you remember how I got them to sell their startown property for a fraction of its worth? And if they don’t kill me, I wouldn’t put it past Santanocheev to do so. I don’t think the Duchess would help him but I don’t think she’ll oppose it either.”
“Imaah! I’ve put intel assessment teams on Byret. You’re better thought of by the rebels than you realize. First, you beat the living snot out of them. Second, you did it without killing many of them or, more importantly, their families. Third, you turned that property into a source of education funds and funds for war orphans for the rebels. They appreciate that. I made sure of it. They know you’ll give them a fair deal just like you did last time.”
“The plantation owners know you can defeat the rebels if need be. They think that means they can squeeze their workers that much harder for extra profits. They admired how you made such a big profit off them. Greedy bastards that they are, they don’t really believe you used all the profits to help orphans. They think it’s just a public relations scam.”
“Duchess Delphine and I disagree on many things. Loyalty to the Imperium and to its loyal servants is not one of them. She’ll do her duty by you.”
“Santanocheev – well – watch your back.”
“Your Grace, to do it right will take a lot of money. More than I’m ever likely to have.”
“That is already taken care of. I will be loaning you some of my key staff. My seneschal will help you assemble a staff of your own and my chief broker will establish commercial trade routes on your behalf. It will take a year to ramp up but you’ll have a steady income stream to work with. I’ll make sure that no one interferes with it, which leaves you free to focus on Byret.
“Until, of course, you crack that nut. Then you can focus on your other estates.”
“Other estates, Sir?!”
“Of course, Imaah! By Imperial tradition, you will have a Knight’s estate on your birthworld of Twana in Vland sector. You will be the Baronet of Junidy in Aramis subsector, a Marquessa on Efate, and the Vicountess here on Regina. I doubt you will be bored in your retirement.”
“Bored! There’s an active or dormant insurgency on every one of those systems except this one! Are you expecting trouble here, too?!” exclaimed Imaah. Then she got over the shock and they saw her brain kick into gear again. “Of course. As Vicountess here I can get access to you whenever I need to. It gives us the perfect cover for a sustained relationship and frequent communications. That, and a high enough rank in your own power structure that I’ll first become a target for co-opting instead of assassination by Santanocheev. That might buy me a year or two.”
Norris chuckled. “I’m not sure he’s all that patient, but other than that, you’re on the money. If you don’t have anyone else in mind, I suggest you set up my daughter Seldrian as your heir. That will discourage Santanocheev and could well buy you some extra time. At least until you have an heir of your own. “ He paused while that sunk in, then added, “As Byret stabilizes, I’ll be able to set you to work in other trouble spots.”
“Why Byret first? Why not Efate? Santanocheev has really committed Imperial Forces to… Oh. Of course. You expect him to fall flat on his face, which will leave the way clear for me to smooth things over with clean hands.“ She paused and looked at Norris, who nodded in affirmation. “Then I will take my cue from you as to what I should protest about and how loudly. Keep me informed”
At this, Seldrian interjected, “And thank you for volunteering, Imaah…”
The response was immediate and reflexive, “<universal soldier expletive>. Miss.”
“I can try, Imaah, but I’m not sure I have the anatomical versatility to manage that…” laughed Seldrian. “Unless you have any more questions, I think it best for you to spend some time with our staff getting briefed on your new positions and responsibilities.”
“Very well, miss. Your Grace.” With that, Imaah saluted, turned and marched out the door, ramrod straight.
His Grace, Duke Norris, shrugged wryly and handed his daughter a one credit coin. “You were right, she didn’t make it thru the interview without reverting to ‘salty speech’. But what an effort!”
*****************************
“Imar, remember when we met at 147th Imperial Army Field HQ on Gaargir?”, asked Imaah as she re-entered the waiting room after her meeting with Duke Norris.
“It’s not a day I’m likely to forget…,” he replied with some anticipation.
“I would rather be there than here! You might want to go your own path, it’s bound to be healthier.”
Imar stood and looked her in the eye, and quietly said, “Whither thou goest, I shall go also.”
Imaah looked at him in surprise, with newly opened eyes. “Oh.” She blushed. “Oh!”
Imar extended his elbow for her to hold, she assented with surprise at herself, and they walked out arm-in-arm.
david.wendelken
SOC-12
A Journey into the Past and Present, Byret/Mora 1097, 1108.
The Navy ship groaned out of jump space into the fringes of the Byret/Mora SDIZ, the Space Defense Identification Zone. The rest of the fleet winked back into normal space around them. Consternation or elation would arrive planetside at the speed of light, the Navy would arrive some days later after topping off their fuel at the system gas giant. Chehesti watched both the ship’s captain and the fleet admiral competently go about their duties and left for the gym. She already knew her own forces knew the plan and were ready and raring to go.She changed into exercise gear and started her warmup routine. A Navy orderly silently arrived at her side with a note, which said, “FLASH FLASH Naval courier waiting in system. ETA 32 minutes. Await arrival before proceeding.” Chehesti snorted in a most un-ladylike manner and thanked/dismissed the orderly and proceeded with her work-out in the corner of the gym floor. Most of the gym was in use for martial arts training for the marine battalion on board ship.
A sweaty 40 minutes later a young naval officer entered the room in full dress uniform, perfectly attired. “God save me from ‘The Immaculate’ staff officer,” she muttered under her breath. The officer recognized her immediately and, just as quickly realizing that she was aware of him, stood smartly to attention. Chehesti walked over to him with the loose, limber walking style she unconsciously slipped into when going on the attack. (Her junior officers referred to it as “Panther Mode” and shivered.)
The young officer saluted. “Lieutenant Norris, Intelligence branch. Your orders from Admiral Santanocheev, ma’am.” He handed over a sealed packet.
“Norris…,” said Chehesti thoughtfully, taking in the custom fabric and tailoring of the uniform and its implications. “Norris? Your father the Duke of Regina?” The officer nodded yes and got a snort of annoyance in reply.
Chehesti began to read. The activities of the gym faded into the background as Chehesti read the new orders with increasing incredulity. Words failed her – a first. It was an exhaustive list of prohibited actions so complete as to make fighting a war basically impossible.
She looked at the lieutenant, “You know what is in these orders?”
“Yes, ma’am, I do.” He remained totally, ramrod straight at attention, with no facial expression whatsoever. For some reason, this annoyed Chehesti to no end.
“Did you have a hand in crafting these – these – orders?”
“If being in the room screaming in anger qualifies for that, ma’am, then ‘Yes’,” answered Norris.
“So you’re in the doghouse with Santanocheev and sent to this backwater, too? Hmmm… At ease.”
Chehesti leaned back against the bulkhead of the gym and idly thumbed thru the sheafs of paper, glancing at them now and again. Her eyes were staring off into space in thought. Norris remained facing into the gym, ever watchful of Chehesti’s every expression and movement yet fully aware of his surroundings.
The martial arts lesson reached the climax for that day, that of the instructor taking on multiple assailants at one time. He was a master of his art. He seemed to weave around or among his several assailants, totally at his ease, as if he weren’t even in a battle at all. Each charge or grapple attempted against him went astray, he was either just not where expected or multiple assailants ended up attacking one another by mistake. Chehesti subconsciously cocked her head and her eyes came back to conscious focus. Her face lit up. She turned back to Norris who was carefully watching her, then looking at the martial exercises, then back at her, several times in a row. She saw the light of comprehension enter his face and he saw her notice.
“Norris,” she barked, “you know what’s good about being in the doghouse with me? You get to play with The Dogs of War, that’s what! I’ll tell Santanocheev you’re on my staff now. And I’ll tell you what you’re to tell him from then on, eh? Let’s go plan a lack of Havoc on Byret!”
******************************
Imar nudged Imaah, who was locked in quiet contemplation and whispered to her. “Dearest, we will soon be leaving jump space to arrive in Byret. The captain has given the alert. We need to strap in.”
“Dearest!” She smiled over at Imar. “Dearest! What a wonderful sound! Is everyone else strapped in?”
david.wendelken
SOC-12
david.wendelken
SOC-12
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