Chapter 44

[Jim Vassilakos]

Back in my quarters, I opted for (fill in the blank) instead of zardocha (and explain why. If you like, you can also describe it. See this list of beverages on the TravellerWiki: https://wiki.travellerrpg.com/Goods/Beverages).

[Jim Vassilakos]

I looked over the attention items on my task queue. At the pile’s dusty summit was a message from the Imperial Palace inviting me to Seventeas “at the chiming of the morrow’s seventh hour (HST).” (Gus’s initial mental response.) No mention was made of my birthday. (Another mental response as it occurs to him this might be a thinly-veiled surprise party.) Could I refuse? (Or he can think something else.)

(Does Gus respond to it?)

Next was a message from Lt. Abbonette that consisted of two file links and a short message: “This isn’t as bad as it looks.”

I tapped the first link and a video popped up, what looked like surveillance footage showing Admiral Karneticky getting into what might have been the Kinnuki Shumurdim loaned me — I wouldn’t know for sure unless I examined its heat shield. Then the timestamp skipped forward a minute or so, and the Admiral came back out holding something. The second link displayed a close-up of the video’s last frame, which showed what he was holding: an empty ampule cartridge of the sort used by hypo-guns.

(Reaction, if any.)

(Of course, there are lots of other items on the task queue, but I thought Gus might want to start with these.)

[Conrad Rader]

Back in my quarters, I opted for some [[plain scuf]] instead of zardocha [[Too many hours that I needed to work, and I needed my wits about me, or at least a little sharper.]]

On Sat, Jun 1, 2024 at 2:41 PM Jim Vassilakos <jim.vas...@gmail.com> wrote:

I looked over the attention items on my task queue. At the pile’s dusty summit was a message from the Imperial Palace inviting me to Seventeas “at the chiming of the morrow’s seventh hour (HST).” (Gus’s initial mental response.) No mention was made of my birthday. (Another mental response as it occurs to him this might be a thinly-veiled surprise party.) Could I refuse? (Or he can think something else.)

[[Imperial summons were tricky business. Technically, I was subject to an Imperial summons at any time, but it depended on the actual noble actig behind the summons. Since I was in a legal dispute with the HPSS, the Countess could not summon me in her role as Countess of Jewel, but could do so as the Imperial Representative to the Moot. Conversely, if she were to summon me, she could only raise business related to the Imperium, or suffer the loss of face as I dictated my response accordingly. The Navy had a swarm of protocols about responding to Imperial summons while in operational stance and there was some discretion. My heart sank a little as the protocols usually referred to officers engaged in actual combat. I forwarded it to my protocol officer with an appended note, 'Can I gracefully get out of the summons?' I feared that the answer would be no, but decided to make it someone else's problem for a bit.]]

(Does Gus respond to it?)

Next was a message from Lt. Abbonette that consisted of two file links and a short message: “This isn’t as bad as it looks.”

I tapped the first link and a video popped up, what looked like surveillance footage showing Admiral Karneticky getting into what might have been the Kinnuki Shumurdim loaned me — I wouldn’t know for sure unless I examined its heat shield. Then the timestamp skipped forward a minute or so, and the Admiral came back out holding something. The second link displayed a close-up of the video’s last frame, which showed what he was holding: an empty ampule cartridge of the sort used by hypo-guns.

[[What was Karneticky doing getting his hands dirty like this? Anyone else should have and would have used a cut-out. Giving me video evidence of him doing something suspicious was amateur hour, and no one gets to be a Navy Admiral by being amateur. I sat back in my chair and sipped my scuf. Abbonette was right, it did not look as bad as it could. The Kinnuki was a Jewell Navy issued unit, the case could be made that there was a sloppy cleaning job. That the injector gun was left but only the ampule taken indicated that he was more curious about what was in the injector. Was he trying for blackmail on me personally? Was he suspicious that I was taking precedence with the Countess? Well, there was some weight to that interpretation, but that was a stretch of even my imagination. I played around with the idea of ordering a covert surveillance of the admiral using my own assets, but I wasn't sure how far the writ of command issued by Abbonette's handler extended. It was one thing to compete with neighboring Fleets, but putting the commanding admiral on station under surveillance by a new captain was pushing the bounds of the civilized cooperation we all functioned under.

I tapped the message for secure storage and responded "Agreed. Remember we have dinner with the Canon in a bit."

I worked my way through a few of the lower priority items, found the request from Lt. Sidara and gave her the first meeting slot tomorrow morning, and continued working my way through the queue.

The niggling thought that Nizlich had not yet checked in with me bothered me enough to request a comm call.

(Reaction, if any.)

(Of course, there are lots of other items on the task queue, but I thought Gus might want to start with these.)

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[Jim Vassilakos]

Next up was a Thank You message from Captain Masa that included a video link to what the description said was the memorial ceremony, or at least the Navy’s official public version. Did he include Olav’s speech? I scanned along the timeline with my finger until I saw Olav’s image on that gigantic video screen at the back of the stage. The Olav-robot stood below, behind the lectern, but it was Olav himself on the big screen just as if he were still alive, displayed for all to see.

Back in the G-Carrier, I’d stopped listening halfway through, but if I’d have to present myself again at the Imperial Palace, maybe it’d be useful to know what else he’d said. I forwarded the timeline to the last bit of him talking and hit the play button.

“…so at the end of my speech I have to make a special request to those of you who are young. There is a very special reason for this. The pacifists, in particular the universities and the merchant academies, who are quite content with the current state of affairs so long as it means ever more bloated bureaucracies and fatter bank accounts, train their children in the useless art of mouthing off. We in the military services, on the other hand, train the young both physically as well as mentally for the hard task of defending our territory and our honor.

“Those youths who do not find their way to where the fate of the Imperium will ultimately be decided, they who only study philosophy or who learn to put profits over people, they are not assets but rather liabilities, as they cannot defend themselves but must be rescued by those who can. So I call upon you, all young people who hear my voice. I call upon you to join the Imperial Navy, or the Imperial Army, or the Marines, or the Scout Service. No matter what slander and calumny you may hear about the armed services, you will know they are formed for our protection, for our common defense, and for the protection and extension of the Imperium.

“And if you are blasphemed and if you are besmirched, then hail to you! For you already have the good fortune to be hated at the age of eighteen and nineteen by the worst scoundrels. This highest good of distinguishing the honest citizen from the bandit falls into your lap as a bit of good luck in your youth! Every battle must be fought to the end. Better that it come sooner than later.

“And the one who goes into the fight with the most confidence from the start stands the greatest chance on the field of battle. So take heart, as we do not believe it waiting for the next war. We believe the Zhodani Scourge that has plagued the Imperium since my time up until today can and must end, and that we must therefore awaken to a new power and glory, to an Imperium that will fulfill what trillions of our best through centuries and millennia have inwardly hoped for, an Imperium of limitless possibility, with all of Humaniti united under one banner forevermore!

“For the Imperium! For the Imperium! For the Imperium! For the Imperium!”

Once again, he had the crowd chanting.

(Gus’s thoughts on the matter.)

[Conrad Rader]

Bombast and jingoism never landed well with me, and naked appeals to fear to swell the ranks was for politicians trying to do something else while everyone was distracted. It was my deep experience in a martial family that told me this was a deeply flawed appeal. My father and uncle were the black sheep, taking up education as business, I was the one returning to the real family business. Local politicians never really understood the size of the navy. I was a captain and even for me it was hard to keep the size and power of the units under my command. Complaints about the size of the Navy and the need never took into account the sheer size of the Imperium. The Navy in the Core had entirely different traditions and work ethos than the Navy on the Frontier. For that matter the Solomani Rim units had barely heard there was a war before it was over. As Olav well knew, there was a vast experiential difference when he was taking blooded fleets that had combat time into the Core where the fleets were more used to police actions and interdiction than outright battle.

The Navy didn't really want patriots. It took them in to keep certain people appeased, but the Navy really wanted officers that were going to do what was necessary to preserve the Imperium. Pragmatism over politics. I had seen some of the more patriotic officers I had come up with shuffled to Public Relations, and Logistics, and very rarely to Fleet Ops. People like Nizlich, who I was very sure had suppressed her home upbringing to succeed in the Navy, and myself, who had been watched carefully in how the Plankwell name was used, were both examples of people able to put the mission of the Navy before their personal concerns.

I felt that Olav's memories were doing him a disservice. In his time, the Navy had literally drafted people for shipboard duty using press gangs. One of Arbellatra's reforms of the Navy had been to do away with direct recruitment, but had begun the process of establishing training centers and intake bases near the depots.  Career routes to the Navy were well established these days, and young people were often challenged to see if they had what it takes to directly serve the Imperium. The dismissal of universities and the merchants was also clearly rooted in Olav's personality from five centuries ago. Merchant trade was the lifeblood of the Imperium and the Navy spent a lot of time on escort duty, piracy suppression and monitoring trade wars for adherence to the Imperial Rules of War. The Navy offered many research opportunities to promising university graduates in practically all areas of study.

If Olav was presented by the Countess, was this another attempt to paint the Imperial military forces with a broad brush? Was it a swipe at Karneticky over wounded pride? Well, I had enough of this. If I never had to listen to the Olav simulation again, I would count myself lucky.

Feeling confident incase I was closely question on the memorial, I tagged it for completion and archive, and turned to the next issue.

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[Jim Vassilakos]

“For the Imperium! For the Imperium! For the Imperium! For the Imperium!”

Once again, he had the crowd chanting, but inside I felt nauseous.

Bombast and jingoism never landed well with me, and naked appeals to fear to swell the ranks was for politicians trying to do something sneaky while everyone was distracted. It was my deep experience in a martial family that told me this was a deeply flawed appeal. My father and uncle were the black sheep, taking up careers in the private sector; I was the one returning to the real family business, the Imperial Navy. And in the Imperial Navy, we did not express strong political opinions, at least not publicly, and we certainly didn’t call for war.

In any case, it was meaningless. A robot, even one speaking on behalf of the Countess, couldn’t declare war, and even for the Countess herself to do so without first running it up the chain to the Archduke would be madness. Yet the crowd cheered as he walked offstage, their chant of “For the Imperium” spontaneously morphing into “Olav! Olav! Olav!”

What did they think? That he would single-handedly lead them to victory against the Zhodani?

Locals didn’t really understand the awesome destructive power of modern militaries. If not for the Imperial Rules of War, a convention to which the Zhodani as well as the Vargr fortunately subscribed, half the worlds of the Imperium would be nuclear cinders. I was now a captain in the Imperial Navy, and even for me it was hard to grasp just how much destructive power a single cruiser could bring to bear.

With so much at stake, the Navy wanted patriots, of course, but not zealots. Mostly, they just wanted officers that would put pragmatism over politics. I had seen some of the more patriotic officers I had come up with shuffled to Public Relations or Logistics. Very rarely did they find their way to Fleet Operations. People like Nizlich, who I was very sure had suppressed her views to succeed in the Navy, and myself, who had been watched carefully to see how this Plankwell would behave, were both examples of people able to put the mission of the Navy before their personal concerns.

The upshot was that I felt this beta version of Olav was doing his memory a grave disservice. Granted, this was the Imperial-approved version. But this certainly wasn’t anything like the alpha version I’d met at the highport, nor was it the one I’d come to know through my exposure to in depth study of non-authorized sources.

Back in Olav’s time, the Army, at least along the frontiers, still drafted soldiers using press gangs. One of Arbellatra’s reforms had been to do away with involuntary recruitment. She’d expedited the process of establishing training centers and intake bases near the depots. Career routes to the Navy were well established these days, and young people were challenged to see if they had what it took. Hence, there was less need to call for new recruits.

Likewise, his casual dismissal of universities and the merchants was also clearly rooted in outdated perceptions. Merchant trade was now the lifeblood of the Imperium, and the Navy spent a lot of time on escort duty, piracy suppression, and monitoring trade disputes. The Navy offered many research opportunities to promising university graduates in practically all areas of study.

So why was the Countess doing this? Why was she using Olav’s memory to stir the political cauldron? Was this an attempt to put the Imperial Navy in a bad light? Was it a swipe at Karneticky over wounded pride? Whichever the case, I’d had enough. If I never had to listen to this Olav simulation again, I would count myself blessed beyond measure.

To my surprise, Lt. Agu came onstage, waving a fist and chanting “Olav! Olav!” along with the crowd. Then he put up his hands, signaling for silence, and he called for anyone from the audience, anyone who was a personal friend of Lt. Jaamzon, to come forward and speak. He looked directly at the VIP section as he did so. This is where Spooky was seated along with many of the other pilots who served alongside Jaamzon, and after a little bit of coaxing, during which their faces were displayed on the big screen, several of them finally stood up and ascended some stairs along the edge of the stage.

The crowd, intrigued by the clearly unscripted moment, forgot about its bloodlust.

“Who wants to go first?” He looked at Spooky. “You?”

Spooky shrugged.

 “Ghost was a really close friend,” she said. “My callsign is Spooky, so of course we got put in the same squadron.” There was a moment of laughter from the crowd; it was amazing how quickly their mood had changed, but all the while, I couldn’t help think: Jaamzon’s callsign was Ghost?

“Anyway, Ghost… ugh… I don’t even like calling her that now. Cleon’s balls this sucks.” She wasn’t holding it together. Whether it was the pressure of trying to speak in front of such a large audience or just the realization that she’d never see her crewmate ever again, she became teary eyed. “I… I, uh…”

“It’s okay,” Agu said. “Take your time.”

For a moment, the audience seemed to hold its breath.

“I’m sorry,” she blubbered, a tear now slipping down her cheek. “I don’t know what to say. I’m just so… I’m so angry. I didn’t want to let go of her fighter. I wanted to keep it onboard… like it would keep her alive.” And I’d basically prodded her into getting rid of it. And then, of course, Jaamzon died. “I’m sorry, I just… I really, really, really want someone to pay for this. I know it won’t bring her back. Nothing will ever bring her back. All I can say is she’ll be missed. By all of us. That’s all I know how to say. You’ll be missed, Ghost.”

Something sparkled on the edge of the stage, just a little bit of reflected light where someone had probably spilled some water or the janitor had applied too much wax. Then Agu turned to someone else to let them speak, and for a long moment I couldn’t even process what they were saying. I just kept focused on Spooky. I’d had no idea what she was feeling. She hadn’t told me. As well as we knew each other, she probably didn’t want to appear weak to her new captain.

(feel free to add to this, if you like.)

As Jaamzon’s squadron mates took turns praising her memory in the background, I attended to some of the lower priority items, approving requisitions, transfers, and so forth, as well as approving the meeting request from Lt. Sidara. Below Sidara’s request was an earlier message she’d sent regarding some of our crew still held in detention at Plankwell Naval Base. Attached were several reports, one by the HPSS, another by a private investigator we’d hired, and a third by a team we sent down to look into what happened. Fortunately, Sidara had also included a summary, stating that she suspected foul play, but it couldn’t be proven. In any case, she’d already secured military immunity with Karneticky’s approval, so the only question left was whether or not we should punish them ourselves. Plankwell Naval’s JAG division recommended a courts-martial, but they were with the 212^th fleet, whereas we were with the 213^th, so it was actually my decision. I could impose whatever discipline I pleased, subject to Admiral Vasilyev’s approval, but Sidara warned that if they got a mere slap on the wrist, there could be political repercussions.

And this was before the interdiction. I could only imagine what she was thinking about political repercussions now.

I closed her message, determined to hash this out with her at our meeting tomorrow morning, and opened the next one without even looking at who sent it. It was from Martinsen and included a very long and ridiculously detailed report of what he’d been doing. In the executive summary was a warning that while the ship would be spaceworthy in three days, it would not be fully operational.

Yeah, I already knew this. He was just covering his ass.

Impatient and already feeling overwhelmed, I scrolled down the list to get a better sense of how long this would take while in a small window at the corner of the display, the pilots and Lt. Agu left the stage, exchanging places with a rather rotund woman. Then the band began playing the Spacer’s Hymn, and the woman sang.

Eternal Emp’ror, strong to save

All those in peril out in space,

Who bid’st the vasty voidy black

Its own appointed boundaries back:

Oh, hear us when we cry your name

For those in Jump and on the Mains.

Creator Lord and King of old,

Who fashioned heaven and the worlds,

And bid’st the planets and the suns

Their own appointed orbits run;

Oh hear us howsoever far

Those travellers journey ’twixt the stars.

Most Holy Spirit! Who didst brood

Upon the chaos dark and rude,

And bid its angry tumult cease,

And give, for wild confusion, peace;

Oh hear us when we seek your face,

For those in peril out in space.

O Trinity of love and power!

Our brethren’s shield in danger’s hour;

From asteroids and fire and foe,

Protect them wheresoe’er they go;

Thus evermore we’ll bless your name

With hymns of praise from Jump and Main.

During all this, I looked over my entire unread message queue, sorted for significance by the ship’s computer. The first few were from me to myself, one to add a commendation to Wang’s service jacket, another to review damage control efficiency ratings, another to forward a comment on Ensign Florence’s personnel jacket, and so on. After that were a string of messages from various people with the Starport Authority, including one from Director Mazarin Scarletti. They were all time stamped from the period of the interdiction, which told me they were probably all interdiction-related. There was also a string of messages from a Khuura Locos of Heron Downport Traffic Control, again from the same time period. No doubt she was angry about the big no-fly zone I’d erected right next to her starport. Well, I’d already rescinded the interdiction, so I wasn’t sure there was any point even opening them.

There was also one from the detention coordinator at Plankwell Naval Base, one from the HPSS, one from a Major Trilbon of Bratom Solutions, whatever that was. Then there were a whole bunch of messages from various media outlets, including one from Faye Mekizush, which was the only name I recognized. There was also one from what looked like some employee’s union, a few from various transport and delivery companies that I’d probably inconvenienced, one from an administrator of some housing co-op, and at least four from various people with the abbreviation “Esq.” following their names.

Oh, great. Lawyers.

Another was from a hospital, and there was a message from some church I’d never heard of. Then, stacked at the end of the list were messages from numerous private individuals whose names I didn’t recognize, except for one: Cassiopeia Remshaw.

(Does Gus want to open any of the messages listed above prior to contacting Nizlich? If not…)

The niggling thought that Nizlich had not yet checked in with me bothered me enough to give her a call.

“Sir?”

[Conrad Rader]

On Thu, Jun 6, 2024 at 12:53 PM Jim Vassilakos <jim.vas...@gmail.com> wrote:

“For the Imperium! For the Imperium! For the Imperium! For the Imperium!”

Once again, he had the crowd chanting, but inside I felt nauseous.

Bombast and jingoism never landed well with me, and naked appeals to fear to swell the ranks was for politicians trying to do something sneaky while everyone was distracted. It was my deep experience in a martial family that told me this was a deeply flawed appeal. My father and uncle were the black sheep, taking up careers in the private sector; I was the one returning to the real family business, the Imperial Navy. And in the Imperial Navy, we did not express strong political opinions, at least not publicly, and we certainly didn’t call for war.

In any case, it was meaningless. A robot, even one speaking on behalf of the Countess, couldn’t declare war, and even for the Countess herself to do so without first running it up the chain to the Archduke would be madness. Yet the crowd cheered as he walked offstage, their chant of “For the Imperium” spontaneously morphing into “Olav! Olav! Olav!”

What did they think? That he would single-handedly lead them to victory against the Zhodani?

Locals didn’t really understand the awesome destructive power of modern militaries. If not for the Imperial Rules of War, a convention to which the Zhodani as well as the Vargr fortunately subscribed, half the worlds of the Imperium would be nuclear cinders. I was now a captain in the Imperial Navy, and even for me it was hard to grasp just how much destructive power a single cruiser could bring to bear.

With so much at stake, the Navy wanted patriots, of course, but not zealots. Mostly, they just wanted officers that would put pragmatism over politics. I had seen some of the more patriotic officers I had come up with shuffled to Public Relations or Logistics. Very rarely did they find their way to Fleet Operations. People like Nizlich, who I was very sure had suppressed her views to succeed in the Navy, and myself, who had been watched carefully to see how this Plankwell would behave, were both examples of people able to put the mission of the Navy before their personal concerns.

The upshot was that I felt this beta version of Olav was doing his memory a grave disservice. Granted, this was the Imperial-approved version. But this certainly wasn’t anything like the alpha version I’d met at the highport, nor was it the one I’d come to know through my exposure to in depth study of non-authorized sources.

Back in Olav’s time, the Army, at least along the frontiers, still drafted soldiers using press gangs. One of Arbellatra’s reforms had been to do away with involuntary recruitment. She’d expedited the process of establishing training centers and intake bases near the depots. Career routes to the Navy were well established these days, and young people were challenged to see if they had what it took. Hence, there was less need to call for new recruits.

Likewise, his casual dismissal of universities and the merchants was also clearly rooted in outdated perceptions. Merchant trade was now the lifeblood of the Imperium, and the Navy spent a lot of time on escort duty, piracy suppression, and monitoring trade disputes. The Navy offered many research opportunities to promising university graduates in practically all areas of study.

So why was the Countess doing this? Why was she using Olav’s memory to stir the political cauldron? Was this an attempt to put the Imperial Navy in a bad light? Was it a swipe at Karneticky over wounded pride? Whichever the case, I’d had enough. If I never had to listen to this Olav simulation again, I would count myself blessed beyond measure.

To my surprise, Lt. Agu came onstage, waving a fist and chanting “Olav! Olav!” along with the crowd. Then he put up his hands, signaling for silence, and he called for anyone from the audience, anyone who was a personal friend of Lt. Jaamzon, to come forward and speak. He looked directly at the VIP section as he did so. This is where Spooky was seated along with many of the other pilots who served alongside Jaamzon, and after a little bit of coaxing, during which their faces were displayed on the big screen, several of them finally stood up and ascended some stairs along the edge of the stage.

The crowd, intrigued by the clearly unscripted moment, forgot about its bloodlust.

“Who wants to go first?” He looked at Spooky. “You?”

Spooky shrugged.

 “Ghost was a really close friend,” she said. “My callsign is Spooky, so of course we got put in the same squadron.” There was a moment of laughter from the crowd; it was amazing how quickly their mood had changed, but all the while, I couldn’t help think: Jaamzon’s callsign was Ghost?

“Anyway, Ghost… ugh… I don’t even like calling her that now. Cleon’s balls this sucks.” She wasn’t holding it together. Whether it was the pressure of trying to speak in front of such a large audience or just the realization that she’d never see her crewmate ever again, she became teary eyed. “I… I, uh…”

“It’s okay,” Agu said. “Take your time.”

For a moment, the audience seemed to hold its breath.

“I’m sorry,” she blubbered, a tear now slipping down her cheek. “I don’t know what to say. I’m just so… I’m so angry. I didn’t want to let go of her fighter. I wanted to keep it onboard… like it would keep her alive.” And I’d basically prodded her into getting rid of it. And then, of course, Jaamzon died. “I’m sorry, I just… I really, really, really want someone to pay for this. I know it won’t bring her back. Nothing will ever bring her back. All I can say is she’ll be missed. By all of us. That’s all I know how to say. You’ll be missed, Ghost.”

Something sparkled on the edge of the stage, just a little bit of reflected light where someone had probably spilled some water or the janitor had applied too much wax. Then Agu turned to someone else to let them speak, and for a long moment I couldn’t even process what they were saying. I just kept focused on Spooky. I’d had no idea what she was feeling. She hadn’t told me. As well as we knew each other, she probably didn’t want to appear weak to her new captain.

[[I reflected briefly on my actions around the fighter, and Jaamzon. I had been acting from low local information but within regs and privileges as a commanding officer cleaning house for a deployment, but what would I have done if I had known more? I concluded I would have done the same things but maybe with a little more sensitivity. But not much. Spooky had been bending regs hanging on to the hulk, and Jaamzon, well, I was still not sure of exactly what had happened with Jaamzon, other than I had somehow given permission to something to move on. Jaamzon's injuries had been too severe for continued shipboard treatment. I sighed. Sometimes this life didn't leave enough room for grief.]]

[[I cued up the messages from Scarletti, the detection coordinator, Brattom Solutions and Mekizush. I deliberated a bit, then added Remsahw to the end. I figured if I got through these then it would be time for dinner.

(Does Gus want to open any of the messages listed above prior to contacting Nizlich? If not…)

The niggling thought that Nizlich had not yet checked in with me bothered me enough to give her a call.

“Sir?”

[["Commander. It is a pleasure to hear your voice. I am truly sorry for all the extra work that has been heaping up. I am working my way through the queue, but I also wanted to check if you would like to join me for dinner with the Canon this evening. Not a requirement, I know there is a lot to do, and I am sure you are as overwhelmed as I am, but it would be nice to see you in person rather than just the recipient of tasking orders."

The real reason, was that she was the first subordinate I had made a connection with and I was in dire need of someone on my side to help recalibrate my outlook and my nerves.]]

{{OOC just so you know I am travelling and on vacation until next Tuesday. My main interface is going to be an old ipad and I am not sure of my internet connection but I will try to keep up with minimal delays.}}

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[Jim Vassilakos]

(Enjoy your time off. There's no hurry on this if you want to wait until you get back.)

Scarletti, of course, wanted to know what was up with interdiction. “What in Cleon’s name is going on down there, and are we still on for dinner tomorrow night?”

(Response?)

The Detention Coordinator wanted somebody to tell her what to do with the six Jaqueline crew members still in custody. Lt. Sidara was included on the email chain, and she’d written to me privately that I could either sign a release and administer whatever justice I saw fit, or I could waive their military immunity and leave them on Jewell to stand trial.

(Gus will be meeting with her in the morning, so they can discuss it then.)

Major Trilbon left a message apologizing for my treatment at the hands of “those two bozos,” i.e., the two security guards who’d tased Captain Masa and myself. “I assure you, Captain, they have been fired. I also let Captain Masa know. Please do not think that we here at Bratom are not taking this seriously. We take it very seriously, and all of our employees are going for retraining. Again, I am incredibly sorry this happened. It is an embarrassment for myself and for the entire company.” And so on and so forth.

(Response?)

Faye Mekizush’s message was, of course, an interview request, but she also included a video link along with the message, “This is going live tonight. If you’d like to comment on the record, please contact me ASAP.”

I opened the video.

“This is Channel One, Jewell Edition. I am Faye Mekizush, and tonight I’m talking with Agus Lapraakek, spokesman for the Heron Public Security Service.”

As the camera panned out, a middle-aged man became visible. He was sitting only a few meters from her and seemed to be sweating furiously under the bright, studio lights.

“So, Mr. Lapraakek,” she said, “has the HPSS issued a formal apology to the Imperial Navy?”

“No, we have not.”

“Why not?”

“Because we have determined that the security guards working under contract with the HPSS followed all pertinent regulations.”

Channel One existed on almost every Imperial world. It was owned largely by the Makhidkarun¹ Group and was staunchly Imperial. Nonetheless, in the interests of appearing fair and balanced, they would bring on locals.

“Just to be clear, your contractors, who are paid through public tax revenues, attacked two Imperial Navy Captains over a bureaucratic mix-up.”

“The HPSS had nothing to do with that.”

“But you did attack these officers.”

“We had to arrest the one… Captain Plankwell…”

“Who is a descendant of Olav hault-Plankwell.”

“The guards did not know that at the time.”

“How could they not know that? How could anyone on Jewell not know that?”

“I don’t know. Not everyone is plugged into the news.”

“Captain Plankwell gave a speech at that very stadium where he’d been attacked, and you know he didn’t even bring it up.”

“Yes, I noticed that.”

“Was that not magnanimous of him?”

“Magnanimous? I… I don’t see how that…”

“He’d already let it go,” she said.

“Which is something I completely agree we should all do.”

“So the HPSS is no longer seeking his arrest?”

“No. We consider the matter resolved.”

“Then tell me, why do you think those contractors, why do you think they attacked two Imperial captains? Was it personal?”

“I don’t know. All I can tell you is that they were following all pertinent regulations.”

“HPSS regulations told them to attack two Navy captains?”

“The two captains failed to follow our officer’s instructions, and so these guards, who I stress were working for a contractor and not for the HPSS directly, did exactly what they were trained to do.”

“But these were Imperial Navy Captains,” she retorted with bulging eyes, a stark contrast to her elfin features.

“The stadium in its entirety is under the lawful authority of the HPSS.”

“But this was over a bureaucratic technicality. Surely you can see…”

“That’s not for you or I or even for the guards to decide. They were following their training.”

“But they fired weapons…”

“They’re not weapons. They’re non-lethal devices. There’s quite a difference.”

“I have just such a device with me now. Would you like to see what it’s like, getting stunned by one of these?”

He visibly blanched at the suggestion. “I don’t see how my getting stunned would prove anything.”

“How cowardly.”

“Excuse me?”

“No, I won’t. You’re saying these officers of the Imperial Navy, who have, by the way, put their lives on the line in our defense — their lives, sir — deserve to be stunned over a bureaucratic mistake, and yet your organization, rather than apologizing, as it should, has instead chosen to minimize the offense it has caused, which you say was not an attack, and yet you yourself are unwilling to undergo similar treatment, to experience what it’s like to be stunned by one of these non-lethal devices, because you know they can be lethal, in some circumstances, but more to the point, because you know they hurt. These two Captains deserve an apology, and yet you won’t give it! You refuse!”

“We have not refused. As I said before, the situation is being assessed and discussed, and when we are ready to make a statement on the matter, we will do so.”

“When will that be?! How long is it going to take?!”

Obviously, I enjoyed watching this tiny, short-haired blonde with her high-pitched voice tearing the HPSS-flunky a new exit port. The rest of the video was more of the same, her challenging him again to take some volts from the taser, even pointing it at his groin and asking where he’d prefer to be shot.

(Response?)

Finally, I got to Kaz. It was a video call. “Hey Stranger,” she said. “I’m sorry to bother you, Gus, but something happened, and… it’s about my position with the Chamber of Commerce. After my performance at the Commerce Committee, they decided my services are no longer required. I don’t know how tight you are with the Countess, but if you could get someone on her staff to send a… a note or letter, just something saying that the Countess is looking forward to my future attendance at the CCE, it could go a long way to getting me reinstated. If it’s asking too much, I understand, but it would mean a lot to me.”

(Response?)

[Conrad Rader]

On Tue, Jun 11, 2024 at 7:22 PM Jim Vassilakos <jim.vas...@gmail.com> wrote:

(Enjoy your time off. There's no hurry on this if you want to wait until you get back.)

Scarletti, of course, wanted to know what was up with interdiction. “What in Cleon’s name is going on down there, and are we still on for dinner tomorrow night?”

[[I weighed the value of socializing with Scarletti given the update to our plans. It was never bad to have a friend in the SPA no matter where you were.

I responded with apologies, today had been very busy and invited him to come aboard tomorrow at 18:00 ship-time for a tour and dinner. I sent a copy of the invite to the public relations officer and noted on my schedule that I was having another guest for dinner.]]

(Response?)

The Detention Coordinator wanted somebody to tell her what to do with the six Jaqueline crew members still in custody. Lt. Sidara was included on the email chain, and she’d written to me privately that I could either sign a release and administer whatever justice I saw fit, or I could waive their military immunity and leave them on Jewell to stand trial.

(Gus will be meeting with her in the morning, so they can discuss it then.)

[[Even though Lt. Sidara would be briefing me in the morning, I transmitted orders for the detained crew to be transferred to the Jaqueline brig.]]

Major Trilbon left a message apologizing for my treatment at the hands of “those two bozos,” i.e., the two security guards who’d tased Captain Masa and myself. “I assure you, Captain, they have been fired. I also let Captain Masa know. Please do not think that we here at Bratom are not taking this seriously. We take it very seriously, and all of our employees are going for retraining. Again, I am incredibly sorry this happened. It is an embarrassment for myself and for the entire company.” And so on and so forth.

(Response?)

[[So HPSS was contracting to Bratom? For customs enforcement? Not unheard of, but Bratom was an Imperial contractor as well, and this had the smell of CYA. Honest problem, or another veil of obfuscation and denial. I let this one go unanswered, but allowed the 'read' notification to go out and I earmarked it to follow up with Sidara during the legal conference.]]

[[I composed a short, no-comment on the video acknowledgement and complimented Mekizush on her reporting style being quite enjoyable. I went into my contact database and upgraded her contact privileges to bypass Navy PR and be added to my mediated contact list. I added her updated contact privileges to the note and sent it off.

(Response?)

Finally, I got to Kaz. It was a video call. “Hey Stranger,” she said. “I’m sorry to bother you, Gus, but something happened, and… it’s about my position with the Chamber of Commerce. After my performance at the Commerce Committee, they decided my services are no longer required. I don’t know how tight you are with the Countess, but if you could get someone on her staff to send a… a note or letter, just something saying that the Countess is looking forward to my future attendance at the CCE, it could go a long way to getting me reinstated. If it’s asking too much, I understand, but it would mean a lot to me.”

(Response?)

[[I sat for a while and thought about what she was asking. On the one hand, influence peddling was a long established practice, and in the grand scheme of things, this was a small ask, but I thought about how the Countess had reacted to her during the council meeting. In terms of relative value, relationships with the Countess and the local nobility was more important than the local business representative. I put aside entirely the fact that I had slept with her, adding that into the equation would make one or both of us prostitutes, and with her background, I was not willing to make that intimation. So, from a purely influence transaction, there was not a lot for me. There was more for the Navy, in repairing the image of her father ever so slightly, but not much for me, other than not being like a lot of other navy people who had disappointed her. I activated my own video recorder. 

"Hello Kaz, nice to see you again. I fear that my relationship with the Countess has frayed a little since her security forces shot me, but if the opportunity arises, I will do my best. You might already know Captain Masa, and I find him a reliable contact and feel free to contact him on my recommendation should you need something from the Navy. Our current departure plans have updated and we are jumping out probably in the next three days. Thank you for everything, and if circumstances allo, I would like to see you once more before departure. But if not, you are one of the highlights of my visit here. Take care. Gus.]]

[[OOC; finally got a reliable internet connection, so here is the update.]]

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[Jim Vassilakos]

Chapter 44 is ready for your suggestions and suggested edits.

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1BJlF1qZPESZkmY8_-8TIvcq17KEjYEjC/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.

[Jim Vassilakos]

Welcome back from what I hope was a restful vacation.

Ch44 is still awaiting your suggested edits.

Also, the beginning of Ch45 has been up for a few days: https://groups.google.com/g/plankwell-pbem-s1/c/_rWZDWtgAQs