Chapter 57
Jim Vassilakos
Kaz’s mother, her sickly face twisted in anger, began yelling.
“Of course, they fired you! You practically declared yourself a slut… to the Countess, no less… and on the Cleon-crapping viewy! What were you thinking?!”
“I didn’t declare myself…”
“‘Stalked? You say it like it’s a bad thing,’” mother quoted daughter in a high-pitched voice. “Were you trying to be cute for your boyfriend?” she snapped.
Biting her lip, Kaz pivoted toward the door. “I can’t talk to you right now.”
“I know he spent the night! What have I always told you about Navy men… Navy captains especially?!”
<Beep> <Beep> <Beep>
(If Gus gets up, go ahead and describe the process, but bear in mind that he’s only had about four hours of sleep, so he probably feels like crap. Also, while it would be tempting to go back to sleep, he never asked Nizlich to postpone the morning briefing, so he’s scheduled to meet with her and perhaps others in a few minutes in the special galley just a few meters from his quarters. It would be bad etiquette for him to cancel with such short notice, but then again, he is Captain, so he can do pretty much as he likes. Assuming he gets up, you might also imagine what Gus looks like in greater detail as he looks in the mirror, adjusting his uniform, shipsuit, or whatever. In doing so, however, remember to stay consistent with the very brief description of him at the beginning of Chapter 1 as well as any other instances where he was described in the write-up. You might also compare and/or contrast how he looks with how he feels given his lack of sleep combined with the intrusion of such a vivid dream.)
Continuing:
“Good-morning, sir,” Nizlich said, standing up as I entered the special galley. She’d been seated at the table with a cup of something, either coffee, tea, scuf, or perhaps some beverage known only to Sword Worlders, but she quickly stood up as per protocol, not just because I was captain of the ship but also because now that I was in the special galley, also called the captain’s galley, that was my technically my table, and I’d not yet invited her to sit.
“Good morning, Commander.” (Does Gus invite her to sit?)
My breakfast tray was already on the table. (Curious to see what you come up with as far as the food goes. And let me know if Gus says anything to Stef or just waits for her to get started with the morning briefing.)
(Apologies for taking such a long winter break, over a month this time. I'm still not through with the work that hits this time of year, but I'm far enough along that we can continue whenever you feel up to it, assuming you're past the infestation and so forth. If you're still too busy, that's fine. Just let me know.)
Conrad Rader
Kaz’s mother, her sickly face twisted in anger, began yelling.
“Of course, they fired you! You practically declared yourself a slut… to the Countess, no less… and on the Cleon-crapping viewy! What were you thinking?!”
“I didn’t declare myself…”
“‘Stalked? You say it like it’s a bad thing,’” mother quoted daughter in a high-pitched voice. “Were you trying to be cute for your boyfriend?” she snapped.
Biting her lip, Kaz pivoted toward the door. “I can’t talk to you right now.”
“I know he spent the night! What have I always told you about Navy men… Navy captains especially?!”
<Beep> <Beep> <Beep>
(If Gus gets up, go ahead and describe the process, but bear in mind that he’s only had about four hours of sleep, so he probably feels like crap. Also, while it would be tempting to go back to sleep, he never asked Nizlich to postpone the morning briefing, so he’s scheduled to meet with her and perhaps others in a few minutes in the special galley just a few meters from his quarters. It would be bad etiquette for him to cancel with such short notice, but then again, he is Captain, so he can do pretty much as he likes. Assuming he gets up, you might also imagine what Gus looks like in greater detail as he looks in the mirror, adjusting his uniform, shipsuit, or whatever. In doing so, however, remember to stay consistent with the very brief description of him at the beginning of Chapter 1 as well as any other instances where he was described in the write-up. You might also compare and/or contrast how he looks with how he feels given his lack of sleep combined with the intrusion of such a vivid dream.)
Continuing:
“Good-morning, sir,” Nizlich said, standing up as I entered the special galley. She’d been seated at the table with a cup of something, either coffee, tea, scuf, or perhaps some beverage known only to Sword Worlders, but she quickly stood up as per protocol, not just because I was captain of the ship but also because now that I was in the special galley, also called the captain’s galley, that was my technically my table, and I’d not yet invited her to sit.
“Good morning, Commander. As you were.” (Does Gus invite her to sit?)
My breakfast tray was already on the table. Someone was paying attention to my preference file. A pitcher of icy water, a bowl of hot grains with chunky bits of protein. And on a side plate, three rolls of protein wrapped in flaky pastry. Meatrolls. Someone had found out I liked meatrolls. I hoped they had did their seasoning research. I reached out for one, and noticed Nizlich watching me closely while appearing to sort items on her tablet.The pastry cumbled slightly under my fingers and the aroma hit my nose. Yea, they had done their research. The musty scent of dried wildshroom powder and the tangy scent of pepper flakes brought me back to happier times with my family. I bit into it and felt the full force of the taste. I reached for the water jug.
(Curious to see what you come up with as far as the food goes. And let me know if Gus says anything to Stef or just waits for her to get started with the morning briefing.)
(Apologies for taking such a long winter break, over a month this time. I'm still not through with the work that hits this time of year, but I'm far enough along that we can continue whenever you feel up to it, assuming you're past the infestation and so forth. If you're still too busy, that's fine. Just let me know.)
--
You received this message because you are subscribed to the Google Groups "plankwell-pbem-s1" group.
To unsubscribe from this group and stop receiving emails from it, send an email to plankwell-pbem...@googlegroups.com.
To view this discussion visit https://groups.google.com/d/msgid/plankwell-pbem-s1/CAO4nEqZuz-7Gc1a%3DaXf67p%2BaaSReGyganKjX4FggdyMDgy9hLA%40mail.gmail.com.
Jim Vassilakos
Kaz’s mother, her sallow face twisting in barely controlled rage, glared at her daughter with burning eyes.
“Of course, they fired you! You practically declared yourself a slut! To the Countess, no less! And on the Cleon-crapping viewy! What were you even thinking?!”
“I didn’t declare myself…”
“‘Stalked? You say it like it’s a bad thing,’” mother quoted daughter in a high-pitched voice. “Were you trying to be cute for your boyfriend?!” she snapped.
Biting her lip, Kaz pivoted toward the door. “I can’t talk to you right now.”
“I know he spent the night! What have I always told you about Navy men… Navy captains especially?!”
<Beep> <Beep> <Beep>
I fumbled for the off-switch but missed, disengaging the bed’s gravity suppression. Not only was I suddenly heavier, but the alarm was still doing its (INSERT ADJECTIVE) <Beep> <Beep> <Beep>.
I finally impacted the target — albeit, more forcefully than necessary — and contemplated falling back to sleep. I was captain, after all. And we were in port. For the next seven weeks. But then I remembered the dream, the one about the (INSERT ADJECTIVE) (INSERT NOUN) and (her daughter / Kaz / etc.). [Re-word as desired.]
(Gus is going to have to think about the dream here. What is his internal reaction to what he was dreaming about just before he woke up? What does he think about Kaz and her mother? And is he concerned at all whether the dream has something to do with his psionics, meaning that it might have been evidence of clairvoyance/clairaudience?)
Conrad Rader
Sorry for my own delay. But allow me to tender my excuse, which is that I got a cold. Getting over it finally, but I'm still a little phlegmy.
Kaz’s mother, her sallow face twisting in barely controlled rage, glared at her daughter with burning eyes.
“Of course, they fired you! You practically declared yourself a slut! To the Countess, no less! And on the Cleon-crapping viewy! What were you even thinking?!”
“I didn’t declare myself…”
“‘Stalked? You say it like it’s a bad thing,’” mother quoted daughter in a high-pitched voice. “Were you trying to be cute for your boyfriend?!” she snapped.
Biting her lip, Kaz pivoted toward the door. “I can’t talk to you right now.”
“I know he spent the night! What have I always told you about Navy men… Navy captains especially?!”
<Beep> <Beep> <Beep>
I fumbled for the off-switch but missed, disengaging the bed’s gravity suppression. Not only was I suddenly heavier, but the alarm was still doing its (INSERT ADJECTIVE:slagging) <Beep> <Beep> <Beep>.
I finally impacted the target — albeit, more forcefully than necessary — and contemplated falling back to sleep. I was captain, after all. And we were in port. For the next seven weeks.
But then I recalled the dream. Or rather the images of the fierce mother berating Kaz that would not leave my mind's eye. Where was this coming from? I had barely thought about Kaz since trying to clear up her situation with the Countess, almost in passing.Had I even seen her mother? Maybe on a screen or pic at Kaz's place? So why was this suddenly in my head. The part of my brain that was soberly keeping notes for me reminded me that I was a newly awakened psion and kept learning new things about my mind and brain at a breakneck pace.It also tapped the clipboard it was holding and reminded me that my so-called handlers in Intelligence weren't sure what I could do either and that this state of affairs had already precipitated me into influencing senior naval staff into different modes of action. I looked at my inner self as it noted, they shoot Zhos for those kind of actions.
I really hoped this iteration of my subconscious would not take on material reality inside my brain. I closed my eyes and studied what I remembered of the, well, I guess I could call it a dream for now, we would worry about what it was when I thought I was awake and seeing things. The memory of the ghost at the memorial struggled to rise, and I pushed it back down. No, one new thing at a time.
(Gus is going to have to think about the dream here. What is his internal reaction to what he was dreaming about just before he woke up? What does he think about Kaz and her mother? And is he concerned at all whether the dream has something to do with his psionics, meaning that it might have been evidence of clairvoyance/clairaudience?)
--
You received this message because you are subscribed to the Google Groups "plankwell-pbem-s1" group.
To unsubscribe from this group and stop receiving emails from it, send an email to plankwell-pbem...@googlegroups.com.
To view this discussion visit https://groups.google.com/d/msgid/plankwell-pbem-s1/CAO4nEqZR67Ys%3DET63xpyhAsQUykXm4D3Hf-z1FQT5FzEUQR21Q%40mail.gmail.com.
Jim Vassilakos
Timothy Collinson
Sent: 23 February 2026 20:48
To: plankwel...@googlegroups.com <plankwel...@googlegroups.com>
Subject: Re: [Plankwell PBEM] Chapter 57
You received this message because you are subscribed to the Google Groups "plankwell-pbem-s1" group.
To unsubscribe from this group and stop receiving emails from it, send an email to plankwell-pbem...@googlegroups.com.
Jim Vassilakos
Conrad Rader
To view this discussion visit https://groups.google.com/d/msgid/plankwell-pbem-s1/CAO4nEqbLX567cc1HyApXKJ6awBZSZcN7%2BTJkfpxTSfL1NHUNBw%40mail.gmail.com.
Conrad Rader
Jim Vassilakos
Kaz’s mother, her sallow face twisting in barely controlled rage, glared at her daughter with burning eyes.
“Of course, they fired you! You practically declared yourself a slut! To the Countess, no less! And on the Cleon-crapping viewy! What were you even thinking?!”
“I didn’t declare myself…”
“‘Stalked? You say it like it’s a bad thing,’”1 mother quoted daughter in the high-pitched voice of mockery. “Were you trying to be cute for your boyfriend?!”
Biting her lip, Kaz pivoted toward the door. “I can’t talk to you right now.”
“I know he spent the night! What have I always told you about Navy men… Navy captains, especially?!”
<Beep> <Beep> <Beep>
I fumbled for the off-switch but missed, disengaging the bed’s gravity suppression. Not only was I suddenly heavier, but the alarm was still doing its slagging <Beep> <Beep> <Beep>. Finally, I impacted the target — albeit, more forcefully than necessary — and immediately contemplated falling back to sleep. I was captain, after all. And we were in port. For the next seven weeks. But then I remembered the dream.
What have I always told you about Navy men… Navy captains, especially?
Was that real or just my imagination? With these newfound psi talents, it was a question I now had to ask.
Kaz’s mother — had I ever gotten her name? — seemed quite angry. And here I’d thought I’d made a good impression. I had tried to fix the situation. I made the request2 Kaz wanted me to make3… to the Countess herself… before getting into a big argument with Helena and then… well… injecting my rage into her daughter, Lady Alise.4
Well done, Gus. Well done.
I’ll give Kaz a call, I thought to myself, ignoring the mocking voice in the back of my head. After all, I was apparently going to be here longer than I thought.
But would I? Was there any point? What would I even say to her? Better not to call.
I was reacting like I did to all things I couldn’t fix. I was shutting it out and hoping it would just go away. But I was pretty sure that was no longer an option.
I don’t have time for this right now.
I had to clean up, suit up, and fuel up. It was time to be Captain, even though I’d gotten only about four hours of sleep. Damn MilStim. What was I thinking?
I should have messaged Nizlich last night and asked her to postpone the morning briefing. Now was too late. It’d be bad etiquette to cancel on such short notice. In any case, I had to urinate. According to the sensations emanating from my bladder, it was a bit of an imperative, so I dragged myself up and staggered over to the fresher, where I stared at myself in the mirror and peed.
Stubble! I needed a shave. And those wrinkles around the corners of my eyes… when did they show up?
Stupid place to put a mirror.
A touch-up to my hair wouldn’t be a bad idea either. Now that I was Captain, I had to set an example.
I finished my business, did a quick face wipe with depilatory gel, and considered my clothing options. Given the start-up of the zero-zero drill cycle, the shipsuit was the obvious choice, and again, I needed to set the example. Shaving would have to wait until after the morning briefing, however. It was time to face the day.
“Good-morning, sir,” Nizlich said, standing as I entered the special galley. She’d been seated at the table with a cup of something, either coffee, tea, scuf, or perhaps some beverage known only to Sword Worlders, but she quickly stood as per protocol, not just because I was the captain of the ship but also because now that I was in the special galley, also called the captain’s galley, the table she’d been sitting at was technically mine, and I’d not yet invited her to sit. She was obviously a stickler for protocol, which was one of the reasons I liked her.
“Good morning, Commander. As you were.”
My breakfast tray was already on the table, and as I lifted the lid, I could see someone had been paying attention to my preference file. A pitcher of ice water, a bowl of hot grains with chunky bits of protein, and on a side plate, three rolls of protein wrapped in flaky pastry. Meatrolls, basically. Someone had found out I liked meatrolls. I hoped they’d done their seasoning research.
I reached out for one, Nizlich glancing over before returning her attention to her tablet. The pastry cumbled slightly under my fingers, and the aroma hit my nose. Yeah, they had done their research. The musty scent of dried wildshroom powder and the tangy scent of pepper flakes brought me back to happier times with my family. I bit into it and felt the full force of the taste. I reached for the water jug.
“A tad heavy on the pepperflakes, but delicious,” I said for the benefit of Nizlich, who by now was smiling, albeit slightly.
I finished the meatroll and dug into the grains.
“Let’s get this underway, Commander.”
“Aye aye, sir. First, a report from Lt. Sidara that needs your stamp of approval. She told me it was time-sensitive and needs to be forwarded to a local attorney, so I thought we should get it out of the way before the other matters.
(Gus’s response, if any.)
I’d asked Sidara to compose a report to Mr. Faulk, summarizing what she’d seen and witnessed at the Imperial Palace. Since she’d brought a voice recorder, she theoretically could have written out a word-for-word account, but she wasn’t that brazen, so she instead summarized the conversation, or at least the parts to which she was privy. There was an account of the Countess trying to get me to side with her against Admiral Karneticky, something that despite my personal distaste for the man, I hadn’t been willing to do. It was over the whole base switcheroo she’d been pushing. Then there was the part about her Chief of Staff asking me to accept the apology of the two guards, a request to which I’d complied, albeit minimally and with as stone-faced a demeanor as one could manage, nevertheless advising them of Faulk’s appointment as our advocate. She also mentioned my apology over disturbances caused by the interdiction5, adding in a footnote that I hadn’t specifically apologized for the interdiction itself or in any way relinquished my right to have declared it. Then she moved on to the apology itself, the one made to me by the two guards, which I didn’t need to read, as it referenced a video that had apparently already been released. Helena’s people had apparently wasted no time in making it public.
As for what wasn’t in Sidara’s report, that was a topic of some breadth, as while the verbal exchange at the palace had been polite, the telepathic one had been anything but. Indeed, the Countess told me to delete the Navy’s copy of the post-memorium interview, the one she had butchered to portray me as a supporter of the Darrian technology. I’d flat out refused. And then, of course, there was Alise’s sudden outburst, which I was pretty certain I had caused. Did the Countess know? Alise or her minder, Squiress Durami, would be the first to figure it out… where that sudden burst of rage had come from. She was in direct, physical contact with a known psion. Who else could it have been but me?
Of course, none of this was in the report, because Sidara, although she’d been sitting at the table, could see none of it.
(Does Gus sign off on the report so it can be forwarded to Mr. Faulk, and if so, then before he does so, does he add anything?)
“Next is the zero-zero drill report.” Nizlich said. “The crew performed better than expected.” Her eyes narrowed, and I wasn’t sure why.
(Does Gus try poking a telepathic tendril into her mind to see what she’s thinking?)
1See the 3rd page of Ch 29 in A&E #577 or page 187 of the consolidated write-up.
2See the 1st page of Ch 49 in E&A #4 or page 311 of the consolidated write-up.
3See the 6th page of Ch 44 in A&E #592 or page 283 of the consolidated write-up.
4See the 1st & 2nd pages of Ch 50 in E&A #5 or pages 318-319 of the consolidated write-up.
5See the 3rd page of Ch 49 in E&A #4 or the bottom of page 313 of the consolidated write-up.
Conrad Rader
I’d asked Sidara to compose a report to Mr. Faulk, summarizing what she’d seen and witnessed at the Imperial Palace. Since she’d brought a voice recorder, she theoretically could have written out a word-for-word account, but she wasn’t that brazen, so she instead summarized the conversation, or at least the parts to which she was privy. There was an account of the Countess trying to get me to side with her against Admiral Karneticky, something that despite my personal distaste for the man, I hadn’t been willing to do. It was over the whole base switcheroo she’d been pushing. Then there was the part about her Chief of Staff asking me to accept the apology of the two guards, a request to which I’d complied, albeit minimally and with as stone-faced a demeanor as one could manage, nevertheless advising them of Faulk’s appointment as our advocate. She also mentioned my apology over disturbances caused by the interdiction5, adding in a footnote that I hadn’t specifically apologized for the interdiction itself or in any way relinquished my right to have declared it. Then she moved on to the apology itself, the one made to me by the two guards, which I didn’t need to read, as it referenced a video that had apparently already been released. Helena’s people had apparently wasted no time in making it public.
As for what wasn’t in Sidara’s report, that was a topic of some breadth, as while the verbal exchange at the palace had been polite, the telepathic one had been anything but. Indeed, the Countess told me to delete the Navy’s copy of the post-memorium interview, the one she had butchered to portray me as a supporter of the Darrian technology. I’d flat out refused. And then, of course, there was Alise’s sudden outburst, which I was pretty certain I had caused. Did the Countess know? Alise or her minder, Squiress Durami, would be the first to figure it out… where that sudden burst of rage had come from. She was in direct, physical contact with a known psion. Who else could it have been but me?
Of course, none of this was in the report, because Sidara, although she’d been sitting at the table, could see none of it.
“Next is the zero-zero drill report.” Nizlich said. “The crew performed better than expected.” Her eyes narrowed, and I wasn’t sure why.
1See the 3rd page of Ch 29 in A&E #577 or page 187 of the consolidated write-up.
2See the 1st page of Ch 49 in E&A #4 or page 311 of the consolidated write-up.
3See the 6th page of Ch 44 in A&E #592 or page 283 of the consolidated write-up.
4See the 1st & 2nd pages of Ch 50 in E&A #5 or pages 318-319 of the consolidated write-up.
5See the 3rd page of Ch 49 in E&A #4 or the bottom of page 313 of the consolidated write-up.
--
You received this message because you are subscribed to the Google Groups "plankwell-pbem-s1" group.
To unsubscribe from this group and stop receiving emails from it, send an email to plankwell-pbem...@googlegroups.com.
To view this discussion visit https://groups.google.com/d/msgid/plankwell-pbem-s1/CAO4nEqZTch%3DyCToX29Lg6GG1gEHRHi-naGLnce5a_39_yMrYVQ%40mail.gmail.com.
Jim Vassilakos
“Next is the zero-zero drill report.” Nizlich said. “The crew performed better than expected.” Her eyes narrowed, and I wasn’t sure why.
I paused mid-chew to look at her. Better than expected could mean a lot of things, and Stefani was too inscrutable for me to quickly decode. Would have to add that to the never-ending list of things to do. Either she had been expecting an all-hands crash out that didn’t happen, or there were specific departments that had surprised her based on prior tests. It made me momentarily consider extending a psionic tendril, but I immediately clamped down on that impulse. I was not going to telepathically investigate my officers — not unless absolutely necessary — so I finished chewing, swallowed, and casually said, “What were the percents?”
“Eight zero void.”
8% had failed to signal readiness within the mandatory time limit. In other words, they hadn’t been wearing a shipsuit — the standard issue ones were bulkier and more cumbersome than mine — and they compounded this misfortune by failing to reach an emergency vacc suit and go through the whole procedure of getting completely inside of it. Only when their helmet was securely fastened could they signal readiness, and they had to do it within a time limit that was individually determined by the onboard medical staff.
How long each of the crew could hold their breath while under various forms of mental and physical stress was in their personnel files, and it determined how long each had to signal readiness. Miss the deadline and be considered a casualty but not necessarily one who needs saving, as there was another option.
Those who didn’t have a vacc suit close at hand would hopefully at least get to a lifebubble. They were all over ship, and getting into one basically involved pulling it out of its deck locker and pushing a button.
Long ago, spacers had discovered that such emergency equipment should be secured in the decks themselves rather than walls or ceilings, as in a zero-zero drill, although a crewperson could float up to whatever out-of-the-way storage unit was being used to store the lifebubbles, sometimes, in battle, a ship would lose air pressure but not gravity, in which case that same crewperson, as they neared the end of their life, would be gasping on their knees rather than leaping up, trying to catch the handle of a storage locker. Lots of people apparently died that way before someone figured out lifebubble lockers needed to be in floors, and to this day, there were Navy captains who both drilled and fought at zero pressure and zero gravity specifically to take such variables out of the equation.
In any case, as long as you could reach a lifebubble and activate it, it would wrap itself around you like a cocoon and feed you oxygen once it self-sealed. Then it would signal damage control and tell them where you were, and the ship’s computer would determine who you were by the personal transponder either on your ID badge or bodily embedded, not that a damage control team would immediately show up to make sure you’re okay. No, they were more interested in those who didn’t report in, which in this case was 0%. The third number, in this case void, indicated the percentage of unreported who would have actually died. So, in short, everyone, the entire crew and complement, successfully made it to either a vacc suit or a lifebubble, meaning zero simulated fatalities.
“Zero percent as in zero,” I said, not that I needed it confirmed. Her use of the word void had already confirmed it. It was just that on a ship of this size with so many people...
“Flat zero.” But there was still no hint of a smile.
“Is there something specific about the drill getting your attention?” I asked.
“My apologies, sir… but… this is highly embarrassing. I did a count of the number of shipsuits being vorn. There was an increase.”
“Statisically significant margin?” I asked.
She nodded.
In other words, the crew had advance knowledge or at least suspected a drill was coming. It was Command’s responsibility to keep surprise drills an actual surprise — otherwise, what’s the point? — but word must have leaked.
“Who knew?”
“You, me, Patrice, Josefeen, Kosy, Oneri, …and Manda.”
(What does Gus think/say/do? And, by the way, thanks for posting as much as you did. Although, as you can see, I changed quite a bit of it, the ideas you brought to the table were obviously the essential component of all this, so thank you, even though I’m sure it must be frustrating for you to see me take what you write and twist it nearly beyond recognition. Feel free to comment on this, if you wish. I may be over-editing at times. It’s hard to know, as this whole campaign is an experiment.)
Conrad Rader
--
You received this message because you are subscribed to the Google Groups "plankwell-pbem-s1" group.
To unsubscribe from this group and stop receiving emails from it, send an email to plankwell-pbem...@googlegroups.com.
To view this discussion visit https://groups.google.com/d/msgid/plankwell-pbem-s1/CAO4nEqY6h3Mw9gFw%3DGMsfhHjYX1vtqdUqdnG9HUqUqjdGFv%2B1Q%40mail.gmail.com.
Jim Vassilakos
“Who knew?”
“You, me, Patrice, Josefeen, Kosy, Oneri, …and Manda.”
I sat and thought, or rather I tried to think, but my brain wasn’t cooperating. Sleep-deprived and still distracted by that dream, I pondered if perhaps I might not be the only person on this ship capable of telepathically influencing the crew. Josefeen was in a position to both know about the details and make things happen. This might be yet another test. Though, to be fair, I was probably just being paranoid. In my defense, Naval Intelligence generally had that effect on people.
Stefani, all this while, kept her gaze locked on me, but whatever she was thinking wasn’t leaking out, and I had no intention of going into her head. I’d already made her uncomfortable by staring at her a few times, so that had to stop, but so did this business of withholding information.
“Well,” I said, “I’m pretty sure it wasn’t you. You’re good at keeping secrets, right?”
“I’m sorry, sir,” she said. “I should have told you immediately. It’s just so… I vanted to take care of it privately.”
“Privately? This is my ship. You’re my right arm. Don’t keep secrets from me. Don’t even think about it.”
“Aye aye, sir.” A flush crept across her cheeks. “It von’t happen again.”
“So let’s walk through it, shall we? It wasn’t you, and I’m pretty sure it wasn’t me. I was in my cabin recovering from an ill-advised MilStem cocktail.” Had I inadvertently broadcast a feeling like I should be in a shipsuit today? I didn’t think so. “Did the statistical deviation point to any specific department, or was it across the board?”
“Technical services and engineering both saw big bumps in their number of personnel wearing shipsuits.”
Which pointed to either Manda or Onneri. I had my doubts Onneri would futz a drill. He struck me being extremely tight-lipped, to the point where Asperger’s meets Autism. Likewise, as an engineer, he’d be the first to understand the necessity of accepting reality so that one could then take the necessary steps to adjust it. Manda, on the other hand, was another story altogether. She kept showing up in tangential relation to things that I was doing. The skuubi snacks, the relationship with Bim, stepping a little beyond regs to open the STT. Any one thing could be marked off as a coincidence, but put them all together…
“I don’t vant to… ah… point fingers,” Stef said, “but in the interest of not keeping secrets from you, sir, my gut tells me it vas Manda.”
This is the rest of what you wrote. Go ahead and amend it if you wish, or just copy & paste it into your next email if you want to continue along these lines:
“I don't want to take this to the step of openly investigating officers, so let’s fudge the numbers. What were the stats on the last drill before I showed up? Do a comparison on all the zero-zero drills we have on record, and see if there is any correlation to the areas the officers you mentioned are responsible for. Also, we can’t forget that the crew may just be slightly more eager to impress the new captain into going out after the ship that wounded them…” I could not miss the twist of doubt that ran across her face.
I held up my hands, “Yes I know, long outside chance and not really likely, but still…”
“In any case, fudge the number so it is not perfect, but then issue a commendation for a successful drill. Even if they knew in advance, they could still have futzed up, so it is heartening to see that the crew can work together to cheat a little. We will be more careful with the next drill.”
Jim Vassilakos
“Well,” I said, “I’m pretty sure it wasn’t you. You’re good at keeping secrets, right?”
“I’m sorry, sir,” she said. “I should have told you immediately. It’s just so… I vanted to take care of it privately.”
“Privately? This is my ship. You’re my right arm. Don’t keep secrets from me. Don’t even think about it.”
“Aye aye, sir.” A flush crept across her cheeks. “It von’t happen again.”
I wasn't sure how Gus would be likely to deal with this, but it seemed like something that maybe should be addressed.
Conrad Rader
“I don't want to take this to the step of openly investigating officers, so let’s fudge the numbers. Adjust up and down to even out the curve What were the stats on the last drill before I showed up? Do a comparison on all the zero-zero drills we have on record, and see if there is any correlation to the areas the officers you mentioned are responsible for. Also, we can’t forget that the crew may just be slightly more eager to impress the new captain into going out after the ship that wounded them…” I could not miss the twist of doubt that ran across her face.
I held up my hands, “Yes I know, long outside chance and not really likely, but still…”
“In any case, fudge the number so it is not perfect, but then issue a commendation for a successful drill. Even if they knew in advance, they could still have futzed up, so it is heartening to see that the crew can work together to cheat a little. We will be more careful with the next drill.”
I got back to my breakfast. The staff meeting, the doctor's visit, and more were already filling my attention span. But I also need to comm Kaz. The dream had definitely left me unsettled.
The staff meeting proceeded as these meetings do, and I saw a lot of wincing, some relieved looks, and a lot of business as everyone absorbed our new departure numbers and the shake up of the Scout detachment. Nothing else really stood out, but there were a few sidelong looks as I let Stefani run the meeting and I sat back and absorbed how these people did their jobs. People perked up a little at the commendation for the drill and glanced towards me. I let my Captain Stoneface look do it's job as if I had expected nothing less. Josafeen was also doing the quiet routine, not even poking at my curtain. The mood felt like the weary acceptance all naval spacers got, hurry up and wait, so that at least was normal. I took over the meeting after Stefani finished the reporting agenda and the highlights from the task queue that were falling behind.
"Thank you all for your contributions. I realize it has been a rather exciting couple of days, and I hope that things will settle as we continue to get ready for deployment. It is my intent to drill the fighter detachment against the ship and the gunnery division, so I expect the relevant commands to be ready. I expect at least three scheduled drills and one snapshot drill. Winner of the competition gets the first live-fire drills. If there are any questions, please queue them to my task list. Kosy, I will be down in medical in an hour for the follow up physical. As requested. Thank you all, dismissed."
The mumur of acknowledgements was a familiar sound. I was starting to feel like things were settling back to normal.
--
You received this message because you are subscribed to the Google Groups "plankwell-pbem-s1" group.
To unsubscribe from this group and stop receiving emails from it, send an email to plankwell-pbem...@googlegroups.com.
Conrad Rader
--
You received this message because you are subscribed to the Google Groups "plankwell-pbem-s1" group.
To unsubscribe from this group and stop receiving emails from it, send an email to plankwell-pbem...@googlegroups.com.
Jim Vassilakos
“I don’t vant to… ah… point fingers,” Stef said, “but in the interest of not keeping secrets from you, sir, my gut tells me it vas Manda.”
“I don’t want to take this to the step of openly investigating officers, so let’s fudge the numbers.”
“Fudge?”
“Adjust the results. Even out the curve.”
“Sir, if I… ah… release this fudge… the affected department heads vill smell something is off. But, you know, ve don’t have to post the drill results. Ve don’t have to do anything.”
“Fine. (or not fine. Feel free to edit.) What were the stats on the last drill before I showed up?”
“Not as good as this, and ve vere in space.”
In space, crews expected to be drilled. In port, it wasn’t so common.
“Do a comparison on all the zero-zero drills we have on record, and see if there is any correlation to the areas the officers you mentioned are responsible for.”
“I’m already on it,” she said. “If there has been cheating, orchestrated or not, I vill find it.”
“I hope you don’t find any.”
“For their sake, sir, I hope I don’t either.”
“You know, we shouldn’t discount the possibility the crew might have just been overeager to impress their new captain.”
Stef tipped her head slightly to one side, appearing to weigh the idea.
I held up my hands, “I know, an outside chance, but still… I’m sure they want to get back out there and take some revenge. In any case, even assuming advance knowledge, they could have still futzed up, so it’s heartening to see them working together, even if only to cheat. We’ll be more careful with the next drill.”
“Aye aye, sir,” Nizlich said, expressionless and gazing down at her tablet.
“What’s next on the agenda?”
“The staff meeting… in thirty-eight minutes. To discuss departure scenarios as vell as trials and drills.” She paused for a moment, frowning at her own notes. “Also, you asked if any other pods in the yard are mission-ready. The answer is no, but the yard tells me they think they can have a Marine Operations pod delivered and mounted within ten veeks.”
Ten weeks? Did we just go from seven to ten?
“…subject to confirmation,” Nizlich continued after a pause. “I explained ve vant for them to expedite repairs, and they say ve need to talk directly to G.P., so ve’re trying to schedule a meeting. Also, Josefeen vants a few minutes of your time to brief you on a matter related to the Countess. Do you vant for me to stay in the room for this vun, or vould you rather I leave the two of you and… uh… concentrate on repairs?”
Conrad Rader
“I don’t vant to… ah… point fingers,” Stef said, “but in the interest of not keeping secrets from you, sir, my gut tells me it vas Manda.”
“I don’t want to take this to the step of openly investigating officers, so let’s fudge the numbers.”
“Fudge?”
“Adjust the results. Even out the curve.”
“Sir, if I… ah… release this fudge… the affected department heads vill smell something is off. But, you know, ve don’t have to post the drill results. Ve don’t have to do anything.”
“Fine. [[I'll leave this in your hands.]] What were the stats on the last drill before I showed up?”
“Not as good as this, and ve vere in space.”
In space, crews expected to be drilled. In port, it wasn’t so common.
“Do a comparison on all the zero-zero drills we have on record, and see if there is any correlation to the areas the officers you mentioned are responsible for.”
“I’m already on it,” she said. “If there has been cheating, orchestrated or not, I vill find it.”
“I hope you don’t find any.”
“For their sake, sir, I hope I don’t either.”
“You know, we shouldn’t discount the possibility the crew might have just been overeager to impress their new captain.”
Stef tipped her head slightly to one side, appearing to weigh the idea.
I held up my hands, “I know, an outside chance, but still… I’m sure they want to get back out there and take some revenge. In any case, even assuming advance knowledge, they could have still futzed up, so it’s heartening to see them working together, even if only to cheat. We’ll be more careful with the next drill.”
“Aye aye, sir,” Nizlich said, expressionless and gazing down at her tablet.
“What’s next on the agenda?”
“The staff meeting… in thirty-eight minutes. To discuss departure scenarios as vell as trials and drills.” She paused for a moment, frowning at her own notes. “Also, you asked if any other pods in the yard are mission-ready. The answer is no, but the yard tells me they think they can have a Marine Operations pod delivered and mounted within ten veeks.”
Ten weeks? Did we just go from seven to ten?
“…subject to confirmation,” Nizlich continued after a pause. “I explained ve vant for them to expedite repairs, and they say ve need to talk directly to G.P., so ve’re trying to schedule a meeting. Also, Josefeen vants a few minutes of your time to brief you on a matter related to the Countess. Do you vant for me to stay in the room for this vun, or vould you rather I leave the two of you and… uh… concentrate on repairs?”
--
You received this message because you are subscribed to the Google Groups "plankwell-pbem-s1" group.
To unsubscribe from this group and stop receiving emails from it, send an email to plankwell-pbem...@googlegroups.com.
To view this discussion visit https://groups.google.com/d/msgid/plankwell-pbem-s1/CAO4nEqZYBqaU-5SKtzOk3Rv_sxyh-YBebysG-FpQqe89J2vRcw%40mail.gmail.com.
Jim Vassilakos
“…subject to confirmation,” Nizlich continued after a pause. “I explained ve vant for them to expedite repairs, and they say ve need to talk directly to G.P., so ve’re trying to schedule a meeting.”
“My intention,” I said, “just so you know, is to only proceed with the Marine Pod if it substantially accelerates our departure schedule. The Exploration Pod is the right choice for a border patrol, but Bim was getting too many ideas above his position." At this, Stef’s eyes narrowed, but rather than elaborate, I decided to change the subject. “See if we can plot a course to take us near a scout base where we can requisition a new staff for the pod. We will make do until then.”
“Aye aye, sir. Also, Josefeen vants a few minutes of your time to brief you on a matter related to the Countess. Do you vant for me to stay in the room, or vould you rather I leave the two of you and… um…concentrate on repairs?”
I paused, stifling the immediate urge to ask her to stay. As much as I would have liked to use her as a shield, I didn't want to risk pulling Stefani into the machinations of Naval Intelligence. I was already far enough down that path myself, and there was no reason to expose her to the professional risks and ethical compromises that would no doubt come with the territory.
“I thank you for your offer, but sometimes one needs to face the torpedoes alone. Besides, I need you able to take over without any… uh… anymore shade attached to you, as it were.” That was awfully clumsy, but I hoped she got the message. “In the meantime, have someone compile a report on the various setbacks we’ve encountered during our departure preparations. I need to send something to counter any of the narratives I am sure are already x-boating their way to Admiral Vasilyev.”
“Aye aye, sir,” Stef said, rising from the table. Her expression was tight, as if she were consciously holding back, suppressing the urge to ask follow-up questions. Shade? Narratives? I was sending her signals that there was a lot going on, a lot that I either couldn’t or didn’t want to tell her about, and despite her lack of telepathy, she seemed to sense the weight of what I was only hinting at. “I’ll send in Josefeen, and I’ll see you at the staff meeting.”
Then she departed, leaving me to ponder if emotional intelligence was itself a minor form of telepathy. Either that or Stefani had the gift of wisdom, perhaps thanks to her prayers to Frigg. Moments later, the door slid open again, and Josefeen strolled in.
“Well, hello there, Sir. I trust you thoroughly enjoyed yourself last night? I know I did.”
Conrad Rader
--
You received this message because you are subscribed to the Google Groups "plankwell-pbem-s1" group.
To unsubscribe from this group and stop receiving emails from it, send an email to plankwell-pbem...@googlegroups.com.
To view this discussion visit https://groups.google.com/d/msgid/plankwell-pbem-s1/CAO4nEqb09FnYUXVvjQQFT%3D-sQEren0KjiYzB722s5eSbVfu5HQ%40mail.gmail.com.
Jim Vassilakos
“Well, hello there, Sir. I trust you thoroughly enjoyed yourself last night? I know I did.”
“Enjoyed is doing a lot of heavy lifting in that statement.” I drew open my psychic curtain, mentally adding, «I hope you have interesting news for me, and not another humping diplomatic issue I’m expected to solve.»
“Hmm?” «…received… something about hump… don’t care… you beg.»
She must have sensed my confusion by either reading my mind or facial expression, because she reached out her hand, as though for me to take it in mine, which I did.
«What exactly did you do last night?» her voice reverberated in my mind.
(Gus’s response. You might work in the thought that now you’re in physical contact, the telepathy seems to be working much better. But there was definitely some sort of problem just a moment ago. Also, do you still want to continue with the following: “It did seriously feel that being an independent command meant everyone who was fed up with the local Navy felt free to complain to me about the situation. You are all Navy, right? Civilians and nobles alike spent so little time thinking about the constraints that protected them from the full use of our power and authority.”)?
Conrad Rader
--
You received this message because you are subscribed to the Google Groups "plankwell-pbem-s1" group.
To unsubscribe from this group and stop receiving emails from it, send an email to plankwell-pbem...@googlegroups.com.
To view this discussion visit https://groups.google.com/d/msgid/plankwell-pbem-s1/CAO4nEqY3rEXf-7FjE6NTxLiioLi4tnAa-YjhnAcfENg6sQE0vw%40mail.gmail.com.
Jim Vassilakos
«What exactly did you do last night?» her voice reverberated in my mind, no lost words this time. She’d mentioned before that touch was the best route for establishing a deep connection.1 There was a reason, something to do with auric synchronization triggering neural entanglements.
She blew a puff of psychic ether into what felt like my telepathic eye, pushing me out of the memory of her school days on Iderati.2 Now it was apparently her turn to come into my mind, and as I reached for my psi-curtain, she put her other hand against the side of my face. «Don’t close up. Let me look at you. There’s something off about your aura.» And then she looked, thumbing backward through my most recent memories. There was the briefing from Nizlich, which was mostly about the zero-zero drill and Stefani’s interpretation of its results, then there was Sidara’s unavoidably abridged report to Faulk, then dressing, urinating, and getting out of bed, then that disconcerting dream with Kaz getting yelled at by her mother.
Communicating telepathically was much faster than doing so verbally. Without this mind-to-mind connection, I’d have had to talk through each event, giving her a verbal recap and answering questions, but instead she could flip through each memory image, looking at it as though one might admire a painting or a piece of sculpture, although each had potentially much greater depth. One added benefit was that the thoughts and emotions were interwoven, almost like a subchannel giving everything a layer of context. Helpful, certainly, though I was rather glad I didn’t have to report this way to any admirals. Indeed, it felt weird communicating this way to anyone. But at the same time, in a strange way, it felt somehow natural, even liberating. After all, I was effectively getting to complain to someone about all the stuff that everyone complained to me about.
She’d paused on my dream about Stallion, which was not just about him but appeared to take place from within him, as though from behind his eyes. There was even the taste of his drink in my mouth. Rather than continuing to my walk with Nizlich, she slid directly into my memory of the Phoenix Nest, watching me snag Stallion’s drink and watching also as I slammed my own, the Milstim-Q36, all because I’d asked the bartender, Rage, for a kick-me-up.3
«So on top of the Darrian psi-enhancer, you splashed a military-grade stimulant and then some mystery drink you stole from this fighter jock you’d just met.» Josefeen sighed, lowering the hand that had been on my cheek.
(Any stray thought from Gus?)
«You’re hungover, Gus. For future reference, mixing psi-drugs with recreational pharmaceuticals probably isn’t the greatest idea you’ve ever hand, although, to be fair, I’ve known clairvoyants to try all sorts of experiments, and I’m curious to know if your dream was… uh… reflective of reality. You might want to see if you can find out, not that I’m encouraging extracurricular activities on your part, but if you are clairvoyant, it would be good to know. Trust, however, that this time I won’t be letting you out of my sight.»
(Any other stray thought/retort?)
«As for the primary reason our telepathic link isn’t quite as strong as before, it’s because the psi-enhancer we took yesterday has finally worn off. And no, before you even think it, you can’t have more. Not right now. Your brain needs rest.»
«Rest? I have to be at a staff meeting.»
«You poor thing.»
«Wait. Before you let go, what were you saying before about begging?»
Josefeen just looked at me for a moment but then threw her head back and laughed, her hand squeezing mine as the door opened. Lt. Sidara walked in. Of course, we immediately let go of each others’ hands, Josefeen’s awkwardly cutting her laughter short.
“Sir… uh… sorry for the intrusion,” Sidara said. “I just got word from Mr. Faulk. It’s about the High Court. We’ve got a virtual preliminary hearing in one hour.”
1See page 104 of E&A #1 or page 293 of the consolidated write-up.
2See the 5th page of Chapter 39 in A&E #587 or page 247 of the consolidated write-up.
3See Chapter 55.
PS: Regarding the Independent Command bit, I'll hold onto it and see if it can be worked in later.