Chapter 53
Jim Vassilakos
I’m sure ve could all learn to do better, Nizlich thought to herself. Apparently, she mispronounced her W’s even in her thoughts! But I couldn’t help but realize she was also thinking about me.
I’d zoned out during the Captain’s Mast, so much so she’d given me a kick under the table. For an XO to kick their CO, under a table or anywhere else, was inappropriate as well as highly ill-advised. But she’d been thinking about the contents of my formerly secret stash, and she was concerned those psi-toys might have taken a toll on my mental capacity, what with me being in such close proximity. Indeed, it reminded her of the way Captain Jenkens used to stare at people including herself from time to time, just the way I was staring at her now.
I blinked, snapping myself out of it.
“So you believe them?” she asked.
Conrad Rader
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Jim Vassilakos
I’d appeared to zone out during the Captain’s Mast, so much so she’d given me a kick under the table or at least bumped my leg. She’d been thinking about the contents of my formerly secret stash, I suddenly realized, and she was concerned those psi-toys might have taken a toll on my mental capacity, what with me being in such close proximity. Indeed, it reminded her of the way Captain Jenkens used to stare at people including herself from time to time, just the way I was staring at her now.
I blinked, snapping myself out of it.
“So you believe them?” she asked.
“I believe they didn’t start the fire,” I replied. “And they are doing an admirable job of covering for an unnamed conspirator. Well, admirable might be a strong term, but they are at least trying.”
“Unnamed conspirator?” What unnamed conspirator?
I couldn’t help but smile.
“I told you about the radioactive rum, remember?”
She nodded, thinking that Josefeen must have been feeding me intel, stuff I couldn’t share, and, in a way, this was more or less the actual case.
“Junior officers and crew get up to the craziest things,” I said, “but it is the camaraderie and support that carries through. I know you all have the impression of me being a rules stickler, but it is far too early in my tenure to start cracking down. And after all the events of the past few days, I have little in my inventory to justify it. The punishment for what they admitted to is sufficient to remind them that doing stupid things will have consequences. I know who and what to watch for using my… uh, personal channels, and I impressed upon them the futility of trying to appeal to my personal sense of honor to get away with things in the future. Believing them was never the issue.”
Stefani, however, was still confused. Inventory? Personal Channels? What did it all mean? But it was not her place to probe, and she sensed asking further questions might only irritate me. Still… unnamed conspirator?
She’d been thinking that the mysterious female Vargr they’d talked about was probably an employee of the nightclub, and the club decided to hide her from the police for a very obvious reason. Either that or Mystery Dog-Lady simply fancied Vargr #6. Was he particularly handsome? Being human, Stefani couldn’t say. Probably has more to do with smell anyway.
The idea they’d made her up to protect Manda wasn’t even on Stef’s radar, and perhaps it was better that way, but it didn’t change the fact that Stefani now felt she was on the outside looking in. She sensed I trusted her, but there were still things I couldn’t tell her. There was no need to know on her part, or at least that had been somebody’s judgment, probably mine.
“I see,” she said. “Vell, sir, do you have any instructions? Is there anything you need me to do?”
(Bear in mind, Gus and Nizlich are presently alone, everyone else having already been dismissed.)
As both of you probably know by now, Lee has announced that issue #593 will be the final issue of A&E, the upshot being that Lee’s rules on the maximum chapter length for fiction is no longer in force, so we can go over six pages, meaning that instead of starting a new chapter, as I'd originally intended, I think all the above will just be tacked onto the end of Chapter 52, which I’ll repost for edits once this scene is finished. In addition to that bit of insider trivia, I need Conrad to tell me what Gus wants to do with the spare hour and a half he has until SPA Highport Director Mazarin Scarletti is due to arrive. Of course, I’m assuming Gus will invite Chief Engineer Onneri Martinsen and Dr. Kosy Willin, but that would take all of a minute, which leaves another eighty-nine to be accounted for. Conrad, if you need a short list of options, let me know.
Conrad Rader
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Jim Vassilakos
“Stefani, you have been instrumental in my transition to this command. In a just world, you would have been promoted to command, and I would have been shuffled off to another Fleet staff assignment.”
“Oh no, sir… please.”
“I can tell you have questions about this, and I will read you in as soon as I can. Preferably in a secured briefing room with several large drinks.” I looked around. “Sadly, no large drinks.”
I leaned back and tapped on my temple with my finger. “Yes, in a just, intelligent world, it would all make much more sense.” I then made the hand sign for undetected hostile. “But now, I have some time before Director Scarletti, and I feel like putting in an appearance in the way of a surprise inspection, just so people know I do indeed work on my birthday. Who’s in need of a shot of fear-driven panic?”
We’d already inspected the Missile Pod, the Fighter Pod, and Forward Comms. That left the Marine Pod, the Exploration Pod, and Intel, the last of which wasn’t subject to surprise inspections (Navy regs gave them special privileges). And with the Exploration Pod being swapped out, that left only….
“I suppose our Marines vould enjoy a little panic from time-to-time.” Indeed, due to that hand sign I’d just flashed her, she was feeling a little panicked herself.
---
Chapter 53
Major Fa’Linto was all handshakes and smiles, but inside, I could sense a whiff of annoyance. I’d called his Marines down the well yesterday to enforce my Section 678 interdiction, during which they weren’t allowed to shoot anything, which meant to them that it had all been a political exercise, and then today I put them on a Bravo-99, which entailed prepping equipment and manning various vehicles only to receive the order to stand down. Stefani had fortunately attended to that final detail or they’d still be on high alert.
As he showed us around — mostly barracks, galleys, lockers, and showers — his people came to attention, a fact that led me to tell him we didn’t actually need to inspect the showers.
“I’ve already used one,” I said.
“Oh, right.” The Combat Master had said something to him about me having heard the name “Captain No-Show,” which made the Major’s jaw involuntarily tighten.
“Don’t let your people use a derogatory nickname for anyone in command.”
“Does that include you, sir?”
“What do they call me?”
“Major Trigger-happy.”
Fa’Linto felt a complex wave of emotions before shrugging. “That’s okay. They can call me that.”
“I believe you’re already familiar with our gym,” he said, showing us into the room where yesterday I’d attempted to clear my name. The Combat Master was there in his wrestling gear, standing with a small group, all of them fixated on the two soldiers grappling behind a flexible transpex shell. Although translucent, the shell formed the walls of an imaginary room inside the gym, walls the two fighters could use to slam each other against something vertical but slightly bouncy — fewer injuries that way. He didn’t turn as we entered but instead kept his full attention on the soldiers at practice, but then one of his people, a young woman with what looked like a bionic hand, noticed us and came to attention.
“At ease,” Fa’Linto said.
“Halt!” the CM called out to the two fighters. “Take a break.”
The shell began to slowly retract itself into the ceiling, Fa’Linto smiling. “I believe you two have already met?”
“Captain,” the CM said with a nod.
Conrad Rader
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Jim Vassilakos
“What is your considered opinion of the combat readiness of this division?”
I could feel Fa’Linto bristling that I would have any call to consider his division less than stellar. The Combat Mater considered my question, taking in the just barely suppressed annoyance of the Major and the flat, calculating gaze of the First Officer, all of us combat veterans. I was hoping he knew what I was going for. Always testing, always pushing. That, at least, was consistent behavior from me.
“My considered opinion, sir, is that these Marines will be ready to board an errant zho you rammed, forgetting that you were flying a cruiser instead of a fighter. Sir.”
I held the command face as long as I could, until a chuckle broke through and then a laugh.
“As the Emperor wills, I will try to keep in mind that my ship is now a little larger. But I make no promises. Marines!” I addressed the wider gym. “I apologize for the unsatisfying nature of the last two calls to duty. But I commend you all on your response, professionalism, and though you did not get to shoot anything, you did carry the honor of the ship and the Emperor. I am very proud I have the opportunity to serve alongside you.”
I turned to Fa’Linto and saluted him. “No concerns here, Major. Carry on.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
“Commander. I believe that I need to go get ready for dinner. Set up a secure meeting room for after.”
* * *
I’d invited Dr. Kosy Willin and Chief Engineer Onneri Martinsen to my private dinner with SPA Highport Director Mazarin Scarletti, and so the three of us gathered in order to greet Maz outside the same airlock, P.A. #1, where Sublieutenant Jimenez had deposited me earlier in the day. It was the airlock closest to the Special Galley opposite my quarters, and Dr. Willin suggested we save any tour of the ship for after dinner. “It’s healthy to walk after eating,” she said, invoking her medical expertise, although in reality she was just curious how I’d respond.
She’d known about the surprise party for much of the day, but Nizlich had only just visited sickbay to personally ask her to see to it that I arrived between 1930 and 2000 hours. The surprise part — or rather non-surprise part, which the crew incorrectly presumed would be a surprise — would happen in the fighter hanger, as it was among the largest rooms on the ship, and of all the hangers, it was the one least occupied given the number of fighters that were still planetside undergoing maintenance.
“So I need to get him into the Fighter Pod's hanger? How am I supposed to do that?”
“Ask the SPA Director if he’d like a tour of the ship.”
“And what if he doesn’t?”
“He’ll cooperate,” Stefani said. “He already knows about the party.”
“Oh, well that certainly makes it easier. And I assume you’ve told Onneri?”
“I’m about to.”
Kosy nodded, now understanding that she wouldn’t be alone on this all-important mission, but there were still potential problems, especially considering that I was, after all, the Captain. What if I simply decided to turn in early?
“What if the Captain isn’t feeling well,” she asked. “He’s on probiotics, you know… due to the crew stew.”
“He’s fine now,” Nizlich said, momentarily averting her gaze. I couldn’t sense what she was thinking, as this was Dr. Willin’s memory, not hers, but in that brief moment, I could sense Kosy’s intuition telling her something was off. There had been a slight flutter in her stomach, some part of which was probably due to the fact that she really liked Stef. There was a certain hyper-awareness that had been activated the moment my XO strolled into her office, and it extended until Stef left sickbay in order to brief Martinsen, Kosy sighing silently to herself, her gaze lingering on the doorway even after Nizlich was gone, but the upshot — what was important right now — was that Dr. Willin could apparently sense when Stef was holding something back. Either there was something wrong with their new Captain, something she didn’t want to discuss, or….
“You didn’t tell him, did you?”
“Tell him vhat?”
“About the party.”
Stef pressed her lips together, somehow managing to grimace and smile all at once. Either the good doctor was telepathic without realizing it or she had made a lucky guess.
“Are you kidding me?! You told the Captain about his own surprise party?!”
“Ssh!” Nizlich shot her a pained look. “He doesn’t like surprises, okay? He made that crystal clear.”
“But…”
“In any case, the party’s not for him. It’s for the crew. It’s for morale.”
“So the Captain knows we have to end up in the fighter pod? Wouldn’t it be simpler if we just dispensed with this whole charade?”
“Aside from me and him,” Stef said, “you’re the only one who knows he knows, so can you please keep it under your hat?”
“Oh, dear Cleon. I can’t believe you’re making me do this.”
But she was, in fact, doing it. She would do nearly anything for Stef, who I suspected had no idea how she felt.
“I like to walk after dinner,” Onneri chimed in after a rather long pause. That much was true. After dinner, he would often walk the engine rooms, listening to the hum of the power plant, his gaze darting to various panels and gauges, searching for anything that might be amiss. All the machinery he worked with, as complex as it was, was easier for him than dealing with people.
As for the surprise party, needless to say, he’d initially intended to skip it, but then Nizlich cornered him just minutes ago and told him he’d need to make sure I got there.
“Why me?”
“Have you not bothered to check your messages?”
He’d frowned and consulted his wristcom, finally noticing the dinner invitation I’d sent.
The truth was he hated parties, and he especially hated mandatory ones. Maybe he could sneak out right after everyone yelled, “Surprise!”
In any case, he was pretty sure I disliked him or at least distrusted him. He assumed this was due to his hesitation with respect to informing me about the suspected misalignment between the sink array and the lanthanum grid. Flight officers, in his view, were prone to overreact to issues involving jump drives. But it wasn’t like this problem appeared out of nowhere. The grid had been damaged, and though his people had repaired it to the best of their abilities, it was still a field repair, and so it shouldn’t have come as a great surprise that the ship’s jumps had become wobbly. The real problem was that the jump governor wasn’t detecting the fault, which meant it would most likely happen again and again, and this wobble could potentially get worse.
The engineer the IISS sent up told him flat out the pod had to go: “I’m not signing off on a patch and pray, when I know damn well the next jump this ship makes could be its last. It’s not worth the risk, and if you cared about your crew or your ship, you’d feel the same!”
Who in Cleon’s stinking bowels did she think she was?! All he’d said was the pod could be saved. With a few weeks of work, they could have reinstalled the grid over the damaged section, and yes, there might still be a jump-wobble, and if so, that would obviously have to be ironed out just like you’d do on any shakedown cruise of any new ship entering service. But scrapping the whole pod? Even as a safety measure, it was blatant overkill. Then again, it wasn’t his money, and swapping it out would make his job a lot easier. Still, on some level it made him feel like a professional failure.
“Oh, here he comes,” Dr. Willin said, and sure enough, the airlock door slid open, and out came SPA Director Mazarin Scarletti.
Conrad Rader
“I like to walk after dinner,” Onneri chimed in after a rather long pause. That much was true. After dinner, he would often walk the engine rooms, listening to the hum of the power plant, his gaze darting to various panels and gauges, searching for anything that might be amiss. All the machinery he worked with, as complex as it was, was easier for him than dealing with people.
As for the surprise party, needless to say, he’d initially intended to skip it, but then Nizlich cornered him just minutes ago and told him he’d need to make sure I got there.
“Why me?”
“Have you not bothered to check your messages?”
He’d frowned and consulted his wristcom, finally noticing the dinner invitation I’d sent.
The truth was he hated parties, and he especially hated mandatory ones. Maybe he could sneak out right after everyone yelled, “Surprise!”
In any case, he was pretty sure I disliked him or at least distrusted him. He assumed this was due to his hesitation with respect to informing me about the suspected misalignment between the sink array and the lanthanum grid. Flight officers, in his view, were prone to overreact to issues involving jump drives. But it wasn’t like this problem appeared out of nowhere. The grid had been damaged, and though his people had repaired it to the best of their abilities, it was still a field repair, and so it shouldn’t have come as a great surprise that the ship’s jumps had become wobbly. The real problem was that the jump governor wasn’t detecting the fault, which meant it would most likely happen again and again, and this wobble could potentially get worse.
The engineer the IISS sent up told him flat out the pod had to go: “I’m not signing off on a patch and pray, when I know damn well the next jump this ship makes could be its last. It’s not worth the risk, and if you cared about your crew or your ship, you’d feel the same!”
Who in Cleon’s stinking bowels did she think she was?! All he’d said was the pod could be saved. With a few weeks of work, they could have reinstalled the grid over the damaged section, and yes, there might still be a jump-wobble, and if so, that would obviously have to be ironed out just like you’d do on any shakedown cruise of any new ship entering service. But scrapping the whole pod? Even as a safety measure, it was blatant overkill. Then again, it wasn’t his money, and swapping it out would make his job a lot easier. Still, on some level it made him feel like a professional failure.
“Oh, here he comes,” Dr. Willin said, and sure enough, the airlock door slid open, and out came SPA Director Mazarin Scarletti.
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Jim Vassilakos
Conrad Rader
I looked up the word "onneri" in the Vilani lexicon, but there are NO WORDS in there that start with the letter O. That seemed awfully strange, and I'm not sure what to make of it. In any case, it makes me wonder what sort of name Onneri is. Timothy, I don't suppose you'd remember how you came up with it? And what is the correct pronunciation, assuming it's not pronounced as it's spelled?
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Timothy Collinson
I looked up the word "onneri" in the Vilani lexicon, but there are NO WORDS in there that start with the letter O. That seemed awfully strange, and I'm not sure what to make of it.
In any case, it makes me wonder what sort of name Onneri is. Timothy, I don't suppose you'd remember how you came up with it?
And what is the correct pronunciation, assuming it's not pronounced as it's spelled?
Timothy Collinson
This was my thought process to that scene; its an odd name combination, I bet it's a family thing,
he's an engineer and enjoys precision, I bet people pronounce his name wrong all the time,
oh hey I'm a telepath now, I wonder what he's thinking about, oh hey, social anxiety from something people do wrong all the time, and it's an easy fix cause I can 'read' how he pronounces his name, it's like Sioban being shevaun,
what, he doesn't like me? He's barely had time not to like me, let's fix that...Brought to you by my weird brain. Not OOnehri, but uh-nehRI and the dash is a little glottal tick
Timothy Collinson
(Conrad, that was really nice work you did on that last one.)
Jim Vassilakos
Conrad Rader
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Conrad Rader
Jim Vassilakos
“Maz!” I stepped forward to greet him. “Welcome aboard!”
“Nice ship you’ve got, Gus.” He offered a gloved hand, and as we shook, he glanced toward my two officers. “Have we met?”
“I would like to present my Chief Medical Officer, Dr. Kosy Willin, and I am sure your people have worked with my Chief Engineer, Onneri Martinsen.”
“Ah, yes…”
I caught Onneri’s relief as well as a touch of surprise when I’d pronounced his name. He was used to it being butchered any number of different ways: with a long O, with a double-O, with “near” in the middle, and so forth. The correct pronunciation was ON-nuh-ri, with a glottal tick between the first two syllables. Of course, nobody would guess that from the way it was spelled, so he had to teach nearly every one of his 170+ staff how to say it, and then he had to correct them when they forgot. It was either that or accept it being mangled on a daily basis. He’d heard a rumor that some of them were referring to him as Ornery behind his back, and it made him smile. If they wanted to think of him as ornery, that was fine, so long as they didn’t mispronounce his name like nearly everyone he’d ever met.
Hence, when I began the introduction, there was this familiar feeling of resigned annoyance as he considered whether he should correct his commanding officer, but then I said it correctly. I’d heard Nizlich say it twice, so it wasn’t too hard. Regardless, this anxious annoyance, which had been at the forefront of his mind, immediately evaporated into surprised relief.
“I hope you’re hungry,” I said as they finished shaking hands. “So tell me, how is the SPA reacting to all of the events of the past few days?”
“Oh,” he said, the pupils of our eyes momentarily locking upon one another as we walked. “I assume you’re talking about the interdiction.” I could sense a telepathic tendril at my proverbial windowsill. Maz was a psion?
Conrad Rader
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Jim Vassilakos
I was pretty sure I felt a telepathic tendril poking its way in at my proverbial windowsill, and so I immediately closed the drapes, Maz frowning slightly as he no doubt realized something was blocking him from getting into my head.
“Was there something else that snarled traffic around the Heron downport?” I asked, feigning ignorance with respect to what just happened. Josafeen, after all, would be extremely upset if I went willy-nilly revealing my newfound capabilities to every psion with whom I happened to cross paths. “I distinctly remember several messages to my Comms about freeing up traffic patterns. But that’s all right. It’s not like anyone was trying to shoot me. Oh, wait. They were.” I smiled.
“Someone tried to shoot you?” Maz asked.
“Someone did shoot him,” Onneri said.
“Someone shot you?” Dr. Willin gasped.
“He was tased,” Onneri clarified. “I think that counts.”
“You were tased?” Maz and Kosy both asked in unison, as if of one mind. “When did this happen?” Kosy added, Maz continuing to focus on her as Onneri replied, “Yesterday.”
“Why wasn’t I informed?” she wanted to know. “Have you been to sickbay? Did you lose consciousness? We should run a full neurological scan, just to be safe.”
[By this point, Gus & Friends have probably reached the special (i.e. captain's) galley almost directly opposite his quarters.]
Conrad Rader
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Jim Vassilakos
“I have been a little busy managing the crisis that erupted out of that incident,” I said, as we passed through an iris valve and entered officer country. The Special (i.e. Captain’s) Galley was just around the corner along with a public fresher consisting of two toilets and one sink. “I will report for a work-up tomorrow,” I promised, “but I have maintained command in situations that were far worse.”
“Oh?”
I began describing what it was like coming out of a misjump when half the crew were puking their guts out and the other half were trying to work through mental fog and hallucinations.
“I was lucky to be one of the pukers,” I said. “In any case, here we are.” I motioned to the galley and then to the fresher. “There’s a sink in case any of you want to wash your hands before eating.”
“That’s always a good practice,” Dr. Willin said, going in.
I poked my head into the galley, noting that the eating table had been elongated, and instead of four chairs, as I’d expected, there were five. Although the “surprise” party was scheduled for later, I half-expected some enterprising crewmembers to manufacture an earlier surprise. I’d done it on occasion, and I remembered the blistering dressing down it earned when I’d once caught my supervisor right before a disciplinary hearing. She didn’t appreciate having to go into it covered in glitter and caught an “insufficient gravitas in a procedural hearing” lecture from the XO, so I got the full brunt of her official ire: three weeks of cleaning backup sensor lines.
Dr. Willin came out of the fresher, exchanging places with Maz. Onneri, meanwhile, fixed his gaze on the carpet.
(Would Gus like to draw open his psionic curtain while Maz is in the fresher?)
“So where did this happen?” Dr. Willin asked.
“The misjump? We ended up on Forrodhkhokh. It’s near the spin-rim corner of the Uthe Subsector. The jump-sickness was so bad, I had to sideline a third of the crew for mental incapacity.” Some of those people would later die in raving psychotic breaks, but just as I was pondering whether to mention this, Josefeen rounded the corner.
“I’m not late, am I?”
Conrad Rader
“I have been a little busy managing the crisis that erupted out of that incident,” I said, as we passed through an iris valve and entered officer country. The Special (i.e. Captain’s) Galley was just around the corner along with a public fresher consisting of two toilets and one sink. “I will report for a work-up tomorrow,” I promised, “but I have maintained command in situations that were far worse.”
“Oh?”
I began describing what it was like coming out of a misjump when half the crew were puking their guts out and the other half were trying to work through mental fog and hallucinations.
“I was lucky to be one of the pukers,” I said. “In any case, here we are.” I motioned to the galley and then to the fresher. “There’s a sink in case any of you want to wash your hands before eating.”
“That’s always a good practice,” Dr. Willin said, going in.
I poked my head into the galley, noting that the eating table had been elongated, and instead of four chairs, as I’d expected, there were five. Although the “surprise” party was scheduled for later, I half-expected some enterprising crewmembers to manufacture an earlier surprise. I’d done it on occasion, and I remembered the blistering dressing down it earned when I’d once caught my supervisor right before a disciplinary hearing. She didn’t appreciate having to go into it covered in glitter and caught an “insufficient gravitas in a procedural hearing” lecture from the XO, so I got the full brunt of her official ire: three weeks of cleaning backup sensor lines.
Dr. Willin came out of the fresher, exchanging places with Maz. Onneri, meanwhile, fixed his gaze on the carpet.
(Would Gus like to draw open his psionic curtain while Maz is in the fresher?)
“So where did this happen?” Dr. Willin asked.
“The misjump? We ended up on Forrodhkhokh. It’s near the spin-rim corner of the Uthe Subsector. The jump-sickness was so bad, I had to sideline a third of the crew for mental incapacity.” Some of those people would later die in raving psychotic breaks, but just as I was pondering whether to mention this, Josefeen rounded the corner.
“I’m not late, am I?”
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Jim Vassilakos
“I’m not late, am I?”
“Of course not,” I replied. Nonplussed by her appearance, I riffled through my memory wondering if I invited her or if I was in for another “training” session. Josefeen being here changed things. I drew open my psionic curtain and sent the memory of the probe I’d just felt as well as my reaction. «I think Maz might be a psion.»
«Oh, he is.» She was pleased with how I’d handled being probed, both that I detected the intrusion and erected my natural shield without giving away that I even noticed. Not every mind was easily read, and so Maz, Josefeen believed, would come away with the assumption that either mine was one of those that were naturally hardened or, more likely, that the Navy had outfitted me with a subdermal psi-shield. There was one problem with this analysis, however, but before I could discern what it was, Maz emerged from the fresher.
(Gus had to open the curtain to open his connection to Josefeen. Does he close it again now that Maz is present?)
“Hello again,” he said to her. “Josefeen, right?”
“Yes, and it’s so nice to see you again, Director.” Maz’s posture sagged a bit as they shook hands, almost like a child being scolded, and deciding it was his turn, Onneri peeled his gaze from the carpet and headed into the fresher. “Are we waiting for dinner or something?” Josefeen asked.
“We’re washing our hands,” Dr. Kosy Willin explained.
“Oh,” Josefeen said. “Rather pointless for me, I’m afraid. There’s no washing that’ll get the blood off my hands.” Then she laughed and entered the galley, Kosy and Maz both staring after her, wide-eyed.
Conrad Rader
--
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Jim Vassilakos
I fixed a smile on my face and gestured for them to follow her. “After you. I would apologize for my Intel officer, but she likes to push buttons to see what falls out.”
“Push, pull, untie, unzip,” Josefeen clarified.
“Oh dear,” Kosy said. “Is this going to become one of those conversations?”
“No,” I replied. “It will not. Although I can’t stop Naval Intelligence from treating people like vending machines.” [You can adjust this, if you like.]
“I can’t help it,” Josefeen said, eyeing Maz. “Just like you can’t.”
“The terrible part is that it mostly works,” I went on, for the moment ignoring whatever private subtext was going on between them. “So what does that say about us, eh?”
“It’s quite alright,” Maz said, scraping a hand through his blond hair [Timothy, would you care to add something to this description. Bear in mind, he might be slightly nervous with Josefeen’s undivided attention so clearly focused on him.] “I fully respect the Navy, and while its guest I will certainly adhere to all of its various rules and protocols to the best of my ability.”
Onneri came in, frowning as he sat. He obviously had no idea what we were talking about, only that the issue of rules and protocols had somehow surfaced. It was my turn, apparently, so I went out to the fresher and washed my hands, hoping maybe it would get my head straight.
[If Gus wants to say anything like, "I'll be right back," or whatever, feel free.]
Clearly, Josefeen must have telepathically conveyed something to Maz while they’d shaken hands, perhaps a stern warning for him to keep his telepathic tendrils to himself while aboard Navy ships. Obviously, they knew each other to be psions. Much of the upper nobility were psions, and apparently some of the agency directors as well. Why were we fighting the Zhodani again?
I searched my eyes in the mirror, looking to see some evidence of change, something to signify that I too was a psion, but there was nothing new. I looked the same as I had last week, before any of this started. Well, perhaps a little more tired than normal. I took a deep breath, dried off my hands and made sure my uniform was straight.
Time to be social and then indulge the crew.
As I exited the fresher, I saw the steward, a rather frail-looking fellow, quietly approaching, his data slate firmly in hand. [Timothy, if you want to enhance this description, feel free. I'm drawing from "X" in the "Four Stewards" file you sent on 2021-09-03.] Following rather closely was a robotic grav-tray with a bubble top. It looked like some appetizers and drinks were about to be served.
“Sir,” he said, “Lt. Abbonette asked me to show you this.”
He handed me a data slate, and there was a login screen with the outline of a left hand print. I placed my hand on it, and a message appeared.
With your permission, I’d like to help you take an important step in your training before this booster wears off. As I distract him, you go in from the opposite side. I’ll signal it’s time with the word “distraction”. Good luck and be stealthy.
What does Gus think to himself, if anything, and then, after that what does he do? One thing you can work into the scene is that there’s a button at the bottom of the slate’s screen with the word “Erase.” When Gus presses it, the slate will go back to the login screen. Then the ensign, after collecting his slate, will enter the special galley with the pre-dinner refreshments. He'll probably follow you in rather than going ahead of you. I think we're dealing with a regular sliding door, so nobody has to hold it open or anything like that. You can describe this process, if you like, but as per Gus’s orders from Chapter 16 (page 101), there’s not going to be any fish among the appetizers, nor will there be any during the main course. It will turn out that because the kitchen had short notice on several of the dinners, they are busy working on those meals now, and so all the main courses will be served in a few minutes, once everything is ready. Everyone’s drink will be served at this time, but the appetizers will include only those items Gus and Maz would have pre-ordered. Others might show up shortly, if the other crew ordered anything, but Gus wouldn’t know about that at this point in time. In any case, if you’d like to describe the appetizers as Gus re-enters the special galley, feel free. He will notice that Josefeen is sitting to Maz’s right on one side of the table, which has been slightly elongated since the dinner with Reggie. Instead of being square, it is now more rectangular. Those present are sitting in the four chairs along each of the two longer sides, so going clockwise from 1:30, there’s Josefeen and Maz, and then going up the other side of the table from 7:30, there’s Martinsen & Dr. Willin. So Gus’s choices are to sit at either of the two short sides, either at 12 o’clock or 6 o’clock, which means that if he intends to follow Josefeen’s instructions, he should probably sit at 6 o’clock, with Martinsen on his left and Maz on his right, rather than at 12 o’clock, between the two ladies. Although, Josefeen did begin her “instructions” with the words “with your permission”, so this is obviously Gus’s call to make. He’s the Captain, and he can, in fact, sit wherever he pleases. Anyway, I just thought I’d give you this background so that you have something to work with.
Conrad Rader
I fixed a smile on my face and gestured for them to follow her. “After you. I would apologize for my Intel officer, but she likes to push buttons to see what falls out.”
“Push, pull, untie, unzip,” Josefeen clarified.
“Oh dear,” Kosy said. “Is this going to become one of those conversations?”
“No,” I replied. “It will not. Although I can’t stop Naval Intelligence from treating people like vending machines.” [You can adjust this, if you like.]
“I can’t help it,” Josefeen said, eyeing Maz. “Just like you can’t.”
“The terrible part is that it mostly works,” I went on, for the moment ignoring whatever private subtext was going on between them. “So what does that say about us, eh?”
“It’s quite alright,” Maz said, scraping a hand through his blond hair [Timothy, would you care to add something to this description. Bear in mind, he might be slightly nervous with Josefeen’s undivided attention so clearly focused on him.] “I fully respect the Navy, and while its guest I will certainly adhere to all of its various rules and protocols to the best of my ability.”
Onneri came in, frowning as he sat. He obviously had no idea what we were talking about, only that the issue of rules and protocols had somehow surfaced. It was my turn, apparently, so I went out to the fresher and washed my hands, hoping maybe it would get my head straight.
[If Gus wants to say anything like, "I'll be right back," or whatever, feel free.]
Clearly, Josefeen must have telepathically conveyed something to Maz while they’d shaken hands, perhaps a stern warning for him to keep his telepathic tendrils to himself while aboard Navy ships. Obviously, they knew each other to be psions. Much of the upper nobility were psions, and apparently some of the agency directors as well. Why were we fighting the Zhodani again?
I searched my eyes in the mirror, looking to see some evidence of change, something to signify that I too was a psion, but there was nothing new. I looked the same as I had last week, before any of this started. Well, perhaps a little more tired than normal. I took a deep breath, dried off my hands and made sure my uniform was straight.
Time to be social and then indulge the crew.
As I exited the fresher, I saw the steward, a rather frail-looking fellow, quietly approaching, his data slate firmly in hand. [Timothy, if you want to enhance this description, feel free. I'm drawing from "X" in the "Four Stewards" file you sent on 2021-09-03.] Following rather closely was a robotic grav-tray with a bubble top. It looked like some appetizers and drinks were about to be served.
“Sir,” he said, “Lt. Abbonette asked me to show you this.”
He handed me a data slate, and there was a login screen with the outline of a left hand print. I placed my hand on it, and a message appeared.
With your permission, I’d like to help you take an important step in your training before this booster wears off. As I distract him, you go in from the opposite side. I’ll signal it’s time with the word “distraction”. Good luck and be stealthy.
What does Gus think to himself, if anything, and then, after that what does he do? One thing you can work into the scene is that there’s a button at the bottom of the slate’s screen with the word “Erase.” When Gus presses it, the slate will go back to the login screen. Then the ensign, after collecting his slate, will enter the special galley with the pre-dinner refreshments. He'll probably follow you in rather than going ahead of you. I think we're dealing with a regular sliding door, so nobody has to hold it open or anything like that. You can describe this process, if you like, but as per Gus’s orders from Chapter 16 (page 101), there’s not going to be any fish among the appetizers, nor will there be any during the main course. It will turn out that because the kitchen had short notice on several of the dinners, they are busy working on those meals now, and so all the main courses will be served in a few minutes, once everything is ready. Everyone’s drink will be served at this time, but the appetizers will include only those items Gus and Maz would have pre-ordered. Others might show up shortly, if the other crew ordered anything, but Gus wouldn’t know about that at this point in time. In any case, if you’d like to describe the appetizers as Gus re-enters the special galley, feel free. He will notice that Josefeen is sitting to Maz’s right on one side of the table, which has been slightly elongated since the dinner with Reggie. Instead of being square, it is now more rectangular. Those present are sitting in the four chairs along each of the two longer sides, so going clockwise from 1:30, there’s Josefeen and Maz, and then going up the other side of the table from 7:30, there’s Martinsen & Dr. Willin. So Gus’s choices are to sit at either of the two short sides, either at 12 o’clock or 6 o’clock, which means that if he intends to follow Josefeen’s instructions, he should probably sit at 6 o’clock, with Martinsen on his left and Maz on his right, rather than at 12 o’clock, between the two ladies. Although, Josefeen did begin her “instructions” with the words “with your permission”, so this is obviously Gus’s call to make. He’s the Captain, and he can, in fact, sit wherever he pleases. Anyway, I just thought I’d give you this background so that you have something to work with.
--
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Jim Vassilakos
Oh, for the love of Cleon.
I pressed the “Erase” button underneath Josefeen’s message, and the login screen reappeared. Well, suggestions from NI were tantamount to orders, and I already had a vivid idea of how Josafeen would punish me for refusing her suggestion. How was I supposed to probe Maz’s mind without him becoming aware of it? Like I even knew what I was doing.
As I handed the slate back to the steward, I imagined the difficulties. If his curtain were closed, I wouldn’t be able to get in, which meant Josefeen must be planning to be in telepathic dialogue with him, which, assuming Maz assented to this, meant his curtain would be open. But how exactly was I supposed to be stealthy?
The steward, his gaze unfixed, as if deep in thought, seemed to be patiently waiting for me to go ahead of him into the special galley. I let go of my curtain and took a peek into his mind, catching the slightest whiff of impatience. Because the kitchen had short notice on several of the dinners, they were busy working on those meals now. All the main courses would be served in a few minutes, once everything was ready, but for now, all he had to offer were the drinks as well as the appetizers Maz and I had pre-ordered.
“Let’s get this dinner going, shall we?”
“Very good, sir.”
Upon re-entering the room, I noticed Josefeen sitting to Maz’s right on one side of the table, which had been slightly elongated since the dinner with Reggie. Instead of being square, it is now more rectangular, and those present were sitting in the four chairs along each of the two longer sides, so going clockwise from 1:30, there was Josefeen and Maz, and then going up the other side of the table from 7:30, there was Martinsen & Dr. Willin, leaving the two short sides, at 12 and 6 o’clock, both available. If I wanted to follow along with Josefeen’s instructions, I’d need to sit at the latter, with Martinsen on my left and Maz on my right, rather than at 12 o’clock, between the two ladies, so I went ahead and did as she’d asked, positioning myself between Martinsen and Maz.
“Welcome Maz, and on behalf of the Jaqueline and her crew, it is my pleasure to spend some time with you. Steward,” — I’d forgotten his name — “…if you would? A brief description of what we are going to be eating?”
“Of course, sir. We took the liberty of contacting the station for the Director’s culinary preferences, and, well, we hope we have created something for everyone to enjoy. This is a four-dish appetizer course to prepare your taste for the meal to come. First, these are eswayne fruit, reduced to pulp and flavored to bring out the sweet tart notes. We froze them to stabilize the shape, but they are amenable to being cut, or bitten into as you prefer. These are fungi slices, lightly cooked and seasoned with a deeply umami amino acid, a favorite of the Captain, if I am not mistaken. Then there are seared jambon slices wrapped around dried pruun fruits, and finally dried grain crackers with a vegetable medley puree for dipping. Please share and enjoy.”
Everyone talked about the food as the robotic grav-tray set the appetizers on the table and distributed our plates and drinks. Before, with Reggie, the steward had done all this himself, but this time, he appeared to be focused on his slate.
“I’ll be back with the main courses, but in the meantime, is there anything else anyone needs?”
Nobody needed anything else, and so he left, the grav-tray following him out.
“I noticed there was no seafood on the menu,” Dr. Willin said.
“I noticed that too,” Maz said. “Do you like seafood?”
“I do,” Kosy said. “Actually, I’m a pescatarian.”
“Is that a religion?”
“No, it’s like vegetarianism, but I also eat fish and other seafood.”
As they talked diagonally across the table, Josefeen looked over to me, and our eyes locked onto each other for a few seconds.
If he looks at you while your curtain is open for more than two seconds, look away and shut it tight. You only enter his mind while he’s focused elsewhere, but not until I say so.
“So what sort of seafood do you eat?”
“Oh, all sorts of things. I like clams and tuna and...”
No wonder she’s a lesbian. “I like clams,” Josefeen said. “I’ve heard they’re an aphrodisiac.”
“It’s mostly their zinc content,” Kosy said, “that as well as D-aspartic acid and NMDA.”
“What do you think, Director?” Josefeen asked Maz with a coy smile. “To zinc or not to zinc?”
“Uh… well, I too like seafood. Actually, I’m quite fond of aquatic life in general. I’ve an aquarium, quite a large one, where I’ve been able to breed some species. It’s segmented, so I can adjust the chemicals and temperature for different sections.”
“And they have babies right in front of you?” Josefeen asked. “That sounds like it would be awfully distracting.”
He laughed and nodded. “You’re all invited to come see it, if you’d like.”
“Actually, I would be curious,” Kosy said. “Not that I intend to eat any.”
Conrad Rader
--
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Jim Vassilakos
He handed me a data slate, and there was a login screen with the outline of a left hand print. I placed my hand on it, and a message appeared.
With your permission, I’d like to help you take an important step in your training before this booster wears off. As I distract him, you go in from the opposite side. I’ll signal it’s time with the word “distraction”. Good luck and be stealthy.
Oh, for the love of Cleon.
I pressed the “Erase” button underneath Josefeen’s message, and the login screen reappeared. Well, suggestions from NI were tantamount to orders, and I already had a vivid idea of how Josafeen would punish me for refusing her suggestion. How was I supposed to probe Maz’s mind without him becoming aware of it? Like I even knew what I was doing.
As I handed the slate back to the steward, I imagined the difficulties. If his curtain were closed, I wouldn’t be able to get in, which meant Josefeen must be planning to be in telepathic dialogue with him, which, assuming Maz assented to this, meant his curtain would be open. But how exactly was I supposed to be stealthy?
The steward, his gaze unfixed, as if deep in thought, seemed to be patiently waiting for me to go ahead of him into the special galley. I let go of my curtain and took a peek into his mind, catching the slightest whiff of impatience. Because the kitchen had short notice on several of the dinners, they were busy working on those meals now. All the main courses would be served in a few minutes, once everything was ready, but for now, all he had to offer were the drinks as well as the appetizers Maz and I had pre-ordered.
“Let’s get this dinner going, shall we?”
“Very good, sir.”
Upon re-entering the room, I noticed Josefeen sitting to Maz’s right on one side of the table, which had been slightly elongated since the dinner with Reggie. Instead of being square, it is now more rectangular, and those present were sitting in the four chairs along each of the two longer sides, so going clockwise from 1:30, there was Josefeen and Maz, and then going up the other side of the table from 7:30, there was Martinsen & Dr. Willin, leaving the two short sides, at 12 and 6 o’clock, both available. If I wanted to follow along with Josefeen’s instructions, I’d need to sit at the latter, with Martinsen on my left and Maz on my right, rather than at 12 o’clock, between the two ladies, so I went ahead and did as she’d asked, positioning myself between Martinsen and Maz.
“Welcome Maz, and on behalf of the Jaqueline and her crew, it is my pleasure to spend some time with you. Steward,” — I’d forgotten his name — “…if you would? A brief description of what we are going to be eating?”
“Of course, sir. We took the liberty of contacting the station for the Director’s culinary preferences, and, well, we hope we have created something for everyone to enjoy. This is a four-dish appetizer course to prepare your taste for the meal to come. First, these are eswayne fruit, reduced to pulp and flavored to bring out the sweet tart notes. We froze them to stabilize the shape, but they are amenable to being cut, or bitten into as you prefer. These are fungi slices, lightly cooked and seasoned with a deeply umami amino acid, a favorite of the Captain, if I am not mistaken. Then there are seared jambon slices wrapped around dried pruun fruits, and finally dried grain crackers with a vegetable medley puree for dipping. Please share and enjoy.”
Everyone talked about the food as the robotic grav-tray set the appetizers on the table and distributed our plates and drinks. Before, with Reggie, the steward had done all this himself, but this time, he appeared to be focused on his slate.
“I’ll be back with the main courses, but in the meantime, is there anything else anyone needs?”
Nobody needed anything else, and so he left, the grav-tray following him out.
“I noticed there was no seafood on the menu,” Dr. Willin said.
“I noticed that too,” Maz said. “Do you like seafood?”
“I do,” Kosy said. “Actually, I’m a pescatarian.”
“Is that a religion?”
“No, it’s like vegetarianism, but I also eat fish and other seafood.”
As they talked diagonally across the table, Josefeen looked over to me, and our eyes locked onto each other for a few seconds.
«If he looks at you while your curtain is open for more than two seconds, look away and shut it tight. You only enter his mind while he’s focused elsewhere, but not until I say so.»
“So what sort of seafood do you eat?”
“Oh, all sorts of things. I like clams and tuna and...”
«No wonder she’s a lesbian.» “I like clams,” Josefeen interjected. “I’ve heard they’re an aphrodisiac.”
“It’s mostly their zinc content,” Kosy said, “that as well as D-aspartic acid and NMDA.”
“What do you think, Director?” Josefeen asked Maz with a coy smile. “To zinc or not to zinc?”
“Uh… well, I too like seafood. Actually, I’m quite fond of aquatic life in general. I’ve an aquarium, quite a large one, where I’ve been able to breed some species. It’s segmented, so I can adjust the chemicals and temperature for different sections.”
“And they have babies right in front of you?” Josefeen asked. “That sounds like it would be awfully distracting.”
He laughed and nodded. “You’re all invited to come see it, if you’d like.”
“Actually, I would be curious,” Kosy said. “Not that I intend to eat any.”
“My taste has always run more towards fungi and algae,” I said, trying to interject something into the banter. “My cadet tour tending the aquaculture system of the INS Maledictor may have something to do with it.” Actually, I’d mostly been doing the paperwork rather than the actual maintenance, but I was nonetheless supposed to learn how the system worked so I could help troubleshoot problems. Unfortunately, there was a lot to learn and a lot of different checklists and flow diagrams that had to be memorized, and I was a pilot, not an engineer. After a few questions, I decided to tell the story of the cadet hazing I’d been subjected to, which involved a multiple leak alarm escalating to a critical failure alarm, all of it orchestrated by the technical chief. Although not at all funny to me at the time, I emphasized my sense of panic as I’d run from flush point to flush point in pursuit of what I thought was a cascading failure of the entire system. Of course, it was all an elaborate drill to teach me how to use the diagnostic system to prevent such a thing from happening for real.
By the end of the story, Maz and Kosy were laughing, and even Onneri cracked a grin, but Josefeen stared at me with protruding eyeballs, like they might explode out of their sockets.
«Did you not hear me say the code word?!»
«You said distracting,» I telepathically replied while Maz was looking at Kosy. “The code word is distraction.» [Of course, you can change this if you want. I’m just trying to give Gus a humorous excuse other than being himself distracted.]
«It’s close enough!»
“Well, I don’t have any cadet stories,” Kosy said, “but I do have one from my first year of residency.”
“I hope it doesn’t involve medical malpractice,” Maz replied.
“Oh, only if a fellow intern impersonating a corpse qualifies as malpractice. I swear, I’ve never jumped so far in my life.”
Conrad Rader
«You said distracting,» I telepathically replied while Maz was looking at Kosy. “The code word is distraction.» [Of course, you can change this if you want. I’m just trying to give Gus a humorous excuse other than being himself distracted.] {no change needed, amused by the bug eyed look]
«It’s close enough!»
“Well, I don’t have any cadet stories,” Kosy said, “but I do have one from my first year of residency.”
“I hope it doesn’t involve medical malpractice,” Maz replied.
“Oh, only if a fellow intern impersonating a corpse qualifies as malpractice. I swear, I’ve never jumped so far in my life.”
--
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Jim Vassilakos
«If he looks at you while your curtain is open for more than two seconds, look away and shut it tight. You only enter his mind while he’s focused elsewhere, but not until I say so.»
“So what sort of seafood do you eat?”
“Oh, all sorts of things. I like clams and tuna and...”
«No wonder she’s a lesbian.» “I like clams,” Josefeen interjected. “I’ve heard they’re an aphrodisiac.”
“It’s mostly their zinc content,” Kosy said, “that as well as D-aspartic acid and NMDA.”
“What do you think, Director?” Josefeen asked Maz with a coy smile. “To zinc or not to zinc?”
“Uh… well, I too like seafood. Actually, I’m quite fond of aquatic life in general. I’ve an aquarium, quite a large one, where I’ve been able to breed some species. It’s segmented, so I can adjust the chemicals and temperature for different sections.”
“And they have babies right in front of you?” Josefeen asked. “That sounds like it would be awfully distracting.”
He laughed and nodded. “You’re all invited to come see it, if you’d like.”
“Actually, I would be curious,” Kosy said. “Not that I intend to eat any.”
“My taste has always run more towards fungi and algae,” I said, trying to interject something into the banter. “My cadet tour tending the aquaculture system of the INS Maledictor may have something to do with it.”
Actually, I’d mostly been doing the paperwork rather than the actual maintenance, but I was nonetheless supposed to learn how the system worked so I could help troubleshoot problems. Unfortunately, there was a lot to learn and a lot of different checklists and flow diagrams that had to be memorized, and I was a pilot, not an engineer.
After a few questions, I decided to relate the story of the cadet hazing I’d been subjected to, which involved a multiple leak alarm escalating to a supposed critical failure, all of it orchestrated by the technical chief. Although not at all funny at the time, I emphasized my sense of panic as I’d run from flush point to flush point in pursuit of what I thought was a cascading crash of the entire system. Of course, it was all an elaborate drill to teach me to pay closer attention to the diagnostics.
By the end of the story, Maz and Kosy were laughing, and even Onneri cracked a grin, but Josefeen stared at me with protruding eyeballs, like they might explode out of their sockets.
«Did you not hear me say the code word?!»
«You said distracting,» I telepathically replied while Maz was looking at Kosy. “The code word is distraction.»
«It’s close enough!»
«So now?»
Not waiting for a reply, I turned my gaze from Josefeen to Maz.
“Well, I don’t have any cadet stories,” Kosy said, “but I do have one from my first year of residency.”
“I hope it doesn’t involve medical malpractice,” Maz replied.
“Oh, only if a fellow intern impersonating a corpse qualifies as malpractice. I swear, I’ve never jumped so far in my life.”
As she went into the details, I focused on Maz’s eyes as he looked at her, reaching out with my psionic tendril. At first, there was resistance, like it was like bumping into something, but then his curtain opened. Josefeen was rubbing her ankle against his, playing footsies, in effect, underneath the table.
«What are you doing after this is over?» I could sense her asking.
«I thought you were angry with me,» Maz replied.
«Anger is like zinc,» she shot back, ever the flirt.
Distraction, indeed. With his attention divided between Josefeen and Kosy, my telepathic tendril was able to tiptoe right into his mind. As with the Reggie's, there was a vast network of connections, like a spider's web, and with each strand I touched, I could sense a memory. But how to make sense of it? I glided my psychic tendril one strand to the next, procuring flashes of memory, mostly images of people and fish.
«There’s something I don’t understand,» Maz was sending to Josefeen.
«There’s a lot you don’t understand.»
«Why is it that I wasn’t able to get into your Captain’s mind, when at the reception, I had no problem?»
«His skullcap was on the fritz.»
Subdermal psi-shield is what she meant. She’d anticipated his question and so had her answer ready to deliver without a moment’s hesitation, and I could even sense that he believed her. But I was still rather annoyed. Here I’d thought I could trust Maz to shield us from psions during that reception, never imagining that he himself was one. It made me want to tear out a few neural connections, but I stuffed that errant thought back where it belonged, imagining how bad it would look if he face-planted on the table all because I’d allowed myself a little vengeance.
Carefully, I brushed my psionic tendril across more of the connections within his mind, each time eliciting more memories, until I saw one that interested me: a sign that read “Doggy Style”. It was that vargr nightclub, the one that burned down.
“Let me get this straight,” Maz was saying to someone. “You actually think you can blackmail me with this garbage?”
He was talking to a fat vargr by the name of Lerza. He was the club owner, and they were alone, in his office.
“Blackmail is a strong word,” Lerza replied with a toothy grin. “Think of it instead as you rub my belly, and I’ll rub yours.”
“No offense, but I don’t need a belly-rub. Whatever Vardok told you is rubbish.”
“So then you didn’t ask him to procure for you the prohibited turquoise stonefish from Emerald?”
“I asked him to bring me a variety of fish, but none that are prohibited. Whatever he told you, I’m sure he was drunk at the time,” Kaz said, knowing this to be the case since he was actively reading Lerza’s mind.
“I’m sure, then, you won’t mind me passing this information along to the proper authorities.”
“I could care less.” Maz shrugged, inwardly terrified.
“Does the Starport Governor know you are a psion, trading in black market biologicals that are known to produce psi-enhancing chemicals?”
“Utterly false and defamatory. I’ll sue and destroy you, if you ever try to spread such slander.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier for you to do me just this one favor? All I want is for the HPSS to get off my back.”
The police had been changing Lerza protection money ever since the street on which his business was situated had fallen under joint Imperial/local jurisdiction. The beat cops initially told that he could continue with the gambling and prostitution, but he’d have to pay for them to look the other way. Since then, however, they’d kept raising their take. Unfortunately for him, Maz had no control over the HPSS, and as High Port Director, he had no business going to the Starport Governor to ask him to intervene in some minor dirtside corruption. If he did, it would only lead Lerza to assume that Vardok was telling the truth, which stupid, drunk vargrs had the tendency to do.
The most that Maz could do for himself would be to buy some time. According to what he’d seen in Lerza’s mind, there was a recording of Vardok shooting off this mouth, which was sitting on a local data cell just down the hallway behind a locked door. Lerza didn’t back up the data offsite, because that would make all the prostitution and so forth open to hackers, especially those working for the government. So all Maz had to do was to find someone willing to go into that room and destroy the data storage unit. And then he’d deal with Vardok.
“Look,” Maz said. “What Vardok said to you… he’s either mistaken, or he’s lying. I don’t know which. But for the sake of not having to deal with you, I’ll see if I can pull any strings. But I’ll need some time.”
“That’s all I’m asking,” Lerza said.
Maz, finally noticing my unblinking gaze, turned to look at me.
Conrad Rader
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Jim Vassilakos
Conrad Rader
Just do me a favor and re-read the first paragraph of the last update, and then let me know if you want to proceed with this course of action or if you want to amend it in any way.
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Jim Vassilakos
Conrad Rader
No, not the lesbian remark. This: «If he looks at you while your curtain is open for more than two seconds, look away and shut it tight...
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Jim Vassilakos
Maz, finally noticing my unblinking gaze, turned to look at me, and so as per Josefeen’s instructions, I immediately closed my psychic curtain and rubbed my eyes, breaking off the telepathic link. Josefeen’s gaze met mine as I looked up again, and she gave me a quick wink, Maz grinning from ear to ear as though amused by whatever telepathic conversation they were presently having.
“Are you fascinated by my aide, Maz?” I asked.
“Fascinated?”
“I’m sorry, but I have first claim on her. Forbidden to transfer off the ship too.”
“The Captain is very protective of me,” Josefeen said, “as I am of him.”
“Well, I do wish someone would be protective of me,” Maz said.
“I’ll be your protector,” Kosy said with a grin. “Stop picking on him, you two.”
I smiled or at least tried to. Onneri, meanwhile, glanced around the table with a smile that looked about as genuine as my own.
“So,” I said, “it appears the Countess is changing up unit assignments down below, moving the Navy out and the Army in. Any thoughts on that you'd like to share?”
“Oh, that,” Maz said. “They haven’t roped you into the latest political intrigue, have they?”
“They’re trying.” (feel free to change this)
“Well, do your best to stay out of it. The Countess…”
He went silent as the door slid open and the steward returned with our meals.
“…she and Admiral Karneticky… their relationship is a bit… I don’t know the word I’m looking for. Let’s just say… things could be better. A lot better.”
“So it’s entirely personal?” Josefeen asked.
“No, no,” he shook his head as the serving robot put our plates in front of us and refreshed our drinks. “A little over a century ago and going back several centuries prior, Plankwell Naval Base was out in the desert. It was the Army and the Scouts that shared the Imperial territory south of Heron. The reason was civic unrest, riots mostly over environmental degradation. This had been an ongoing issue for hundreds of years, so it was deemed necessary to have the Army right on Heron’s outskirts to quell uprisings. Of course, a good portion of the population looked upon the Imperial Army as an occupying force.”
“And what about now?” Kosy asked.
“Nobody remembers Jewell as it used to be. All those people are dead and gone. And since the bases switched places, there have been two more invasions. The last siege lasted somewhere in the neighborhood of three years. The local fleet got a bit of black eye over that, but it's apparently cheaper to service craft with the base so close to the city.”
“So then why does the Countess want to switch it back?” Josefeen asked.
He paused for a moment, perhaps thinking about that fire that his people no doubt caused when they went into the club to destroy Lerza’s onsite computer.
“There have been several incidents,” he finally said, “incidents involving Navy personnel, and likewise, the local fleet’s performance in the last war was somewhat less than stellar, and also the population no longer fears the Imperial Army. And they can’t do much to protect Heron being all the way out in the desert. The Navy, by contract, might be more effective out in the desert. The base out there is much larger, from what I understand, and there’s room for all sorts of secret projects.” He smiled. “I envy you, you know. We don’t get to have any secret projects in the Starport Authority.”
So this wasn’t just about the decaying relationship between the Admiral and the Countess, although that may have been the final straw.
Jim Vassilakos
Conrad Rader
Oh, feel free to describe the meals if you feel so inclined. Maz ordered a side bowl of the Navy's famous mushroom soup. After a while, the steward will come with a dessert menu.
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Jim Vassilakos
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1DFjqDXhD1p4hNZQ4Ws0nZ3xOTojLx3SY/edit?usp=sharing&ouid=113687616933633107445&rtpof=true&sd=true
PLEASE REMEMBER to change "EDITING" to "SUGGESTING" (near the upper right-hand corner) before doing any edits.
Conrad Rader
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