Chapter Four
Kai left the admiral’s office steadily enough but once he got outside the adjutant’s waiting area he spun to face the wall and leaned heavily on it, vision swimming and a feeling of intense nausea sweeping through him. It was so bad his legs almost buckled and he was almost physically sick on the spot, but he managed to hold on and ride out the first wave.
He straightened and wiped away the sheen of sweat that had popped out on his brow. The first coherent thought that dropped into his head was
What the imirrhlhhse
do I do now? Leaving the empty corridor behind him, Kai headed for the nearest washroom to freshen up. Staring into the mirror over the sinks, cool, clear water dripping from his ashen features, he had trouble meeting his own eyes.
What will Father think of this? I truly do not know which way he will go… so how can I tell him? Kai wondered, again splashing his face with the cool, sweet water.
If I knew he would support me I would tell him instantly and get him to bend this admiral to his will. But he
could see this as a public disgrace that would affect his business standing. And if there is one thing he will not tolerate, that
is it. Kai stretched himself out, trying to wring some of the nervous tension out of his muscles as he continued his private musings.
He’s my father. I should tell him. I could beam down and tell him in person… and bear his full wrath with no way out… I… I could just com him, was the young man’s next thought.
Find a vidcom booth and just flat out tell him and be able to cut the link at any time… which would likely just make him all the more furious no matter what happens. Maybe make the call just as a taster? See what his reaction is before I try to visit in person? If he’s supportive, beam down and talk it over in person. If he’s… upset with me, say my ship is leaving soon and I just called to let him know? Kai sighed, knowing he was deluding himself. His father would not accept that. He would demand the full details, and Kai was a poor liar to his father. The man was just too damn intimidating, and if Kai even tried his father would pick up on it, making everything worse.
No, calling ahead will just alert him. He’ll demand my presence and it’ll just give me more nerve-shredding anticipation before facing him. And if I want this situation corrected, I need him to correct it. Getting kicked off a cruiser to a police ship… my career would never recover. It is worth braving my father’s wrath or disappointment if he will fix it for me again. I must go and see him. Thus decided, he splashed his face a final time, dried himself off, and made for the transporter room.
*****
“’Ere, ‘Irull, some bloke’s got ‘is ‘ead stuck up our business!”
At his technician’s overloud warning, Hirull’s eyes flicked up from his work order to take in the boiler-suited figure who was only visible from the waist down. The Specialist First’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, and he halted his approach to page through data slate’s contents, which included all the work orders currently assigned ship-wide. As he’d suspected, no one else was authorised to be in this area performing maintenance or repairs.
“Wait here,” he instructed his companion, and strode up to the still unresponsive unknown. “Oi! You there! Stop what you’re doing and explain your presence and purpose in this
restricted area!”
The figure finally took notice of the two technicians and pulled himself from the circuit trunk, then straightened to face the NCO. Hirull noted him taking in the attitude and positioning of both himself and Taroth further up the corridor. Despite his basic training being a good decade behind him, Hirull felt the long dormant instruction lighting off his instincts.
“
Don’t move! Hands where I can see ‘em!” he yelled at the intruder. Without taking his eyes off of him, Hirull ordered over his shoulder, “Taroth! Get to an intercom panel and call this in! Get Enforcement up here
on the double!”
Curiously, the intruder smiled and nodded approvingly as the technician took off down the corridors to carry out his orders. He obligingly spread his arms wide and remained motionless.
Hirull knew better than to trust such apparent docility and got no closer. He’d heard too many tales of Tal Shi’ar agents who could kill or cripple in dozens of ways once they’d gotten within arm’s reach. Hirull now conspicuously felt the lack of a weapon on his person. All he had were diagnostic electronics and a few maintenance tools, none of which could be used for more than throwing or clubbing.
The stand off stretched into minutes and Hirull felt the passage of every second as if it were an ant walking the entire length of his skin. The intruder continued to just stand there, looking directly at him. It was a neutral gaze, unthreatening, neither calculating nor disinterested. He felt its’ weight regardless, and sweat popped out on his brow ridge.
This makes no sense, Hirull thought feverishly.
If he’s a member of the crew, why not identify himself? If he’s a saboteur or assassin, why doesn’t he try to escape? Boots pounded on decking and an Enforcement Squad burst into his peripheral vision. “
On the deck, both of you! Now!” their leader shouted and Hirull gladly measured his length on the floor, going down almost as quickly as a puppet with severed strings. He craned his neck around to see the intruder lie down more circumspectly, still saying nothing.
Disruptors drawn, the Enforcement squad of six approached the pair from both ends of the corridor, weapons low and to their left but requiring a mere flick of the wrist to be properly trained on the two.
“Identify yourselves!” the squad leader ordered next.
“Engineering Specialist First Hirull tr’Dertha, Power Systems section!” Hirull called out.
“SubCommander Hdeian tr’Tyrava, Commanding Officer of the Warbird
White Star,” the intruder responded in kind, speaking for the first time. The voice sounded as if it was suppressing some amusement.
Hirull paled to a horrible, sickly pallor. To claim to be the CO during an incident like this, the man was either unstable… or the CO.
Either circumstance did not bode well for anybody here.
SubCenturion Deila t’Aroth swallowed hard, and her hand began sweating on her disruptor grip as she came to the same conclusion. She – as had the whole crew – had heard of their new CO’s arrival onboard yet no one beyond the command crew knew what this tr’Tyrava looked like. If it was the CO, the personal consequences resulting from this incident could ruin all of them. But (arguably) worse, if this really were a madman, then he could have a bomb strapped to him or have booby-trapped the circuit trunk the Engineering crewmen had found him in.
For the moment, the situation was under control so she would follow procedure. She called out, “Tr’Dertha, stand up slowly and produce your ID chip.”
As he did so, she nodded to one of her legionnaires to verify the chip and ensure the face matched the file holo.
“Don’ worry, Centurion. That’s ‘Irull, all right,” the tech told her, voice subdued.
Her
uhlan gave her a terse nod and, at her raised eyebrow added, “He scans clean for threats.”
She jerked her head and the legionnaire pulled him out of the kill box her team had set up.
One down, she breathed.
Okay, since he hasn’t started screaming at us for… anything yet, we’ll repeat the process. “SubCommander, please stand up and produce your ID chip, and submit to a body scan,” she ordered next, managing to keep her voice steady.
“I will comply,” was the short answer.
It’s just bloody typical this would happen on my shift, Deila thought miserably.
And, in a barren corridor with no mainframe access where a simple voiceprint ID would suffice to clear all this up! She fumed at the rigmarole this was putting her squad through. Absolutely
anything could happen here, from a sudden explosion killing them all to demotions and censures – Ariennye,
even executions! – for discombobulating their new CO.
An
uhlan from the other section of her squad called out nervously, “According to these files, subCenturion, this is our new commander.”
The words sticking in her throat as visions of being demoted, reassigned to forgotten outposts, or executed played before her eyes, she managed to project, “Th-threat scan?”
“Clear, subCenturion,” the man returned, nerves equally strung out.
“Squad stand down,” she ordered next, and approached her still silent CO. Throat dry and voice wavering, she told him, “SubCommander, forgive our ignorance. We were not informed—”
He held up a hand next and she fell immediately silent. He looked around at them all, his entire bearing still relaxed and his face open and without anger. “I find no fault with you or your squad in the performance of their duties,” he told her mildly. “You responded quickly and well, and followed procedure in unusual and vexing circumstances. Most would have fallen over themselves trying to appease my anger upon my identifying myself.
I expect you to act no different in responding to any security matters, regardless of whatever exalted personages are involved. Your dedication to duty and the welfare of your ship do you credit.”
Deila couldn’t believe her ears and she couldn’t help herself look around at her squad for confirmation that she hadn’t hit her head and not noticed it, but they too wore similar looks of bewilderment. She looked back to her CO to find him staring bemusedly at her.
“If there is a next time, you may want to complete the procedure and scan the circuit trunk for explosives or harmful code, but you all performed well. You will all have commendations entered into your files for this incident.”
“Th-thank you, Commander,” she replied, feeling somewhat shell-shocked.
He nodded congenially to her then called out, “Specialist First tr’Dertha.”
Full of dread and yet hopeful at the same time, Hirull was let through the press of legionnaires into the presence of the man he’d tried to have arrested. “SubCommander,” he managed to acknowledge his CO.
“Specialist, why did you summon Enforcement?” he asked, his tone slightly harder.
Hirull swallowed hard but managed to prevent his eyes closing in supplication to the Elements. “Sir, no one else was authorised to perform maintenance in this area according to my work orders,” he replied weakly.
“Come now, tr’Dertha. Give me a complete answer. You only called for Enforcement after you saw me out of the access trunk.”
A strangled noise made its way out of Hirull’s throat. The legionnaires around him offered sympathetic looks but he didn’t see them. His vision had tunnelled so that all he could see was his CO’s blank eyes.
“S-Sir, I did not recognise you and… I have
never seen an officer wearing a technician’s outfit.”
“And…?” Tr’Tyrava made a point of drawing out the word. Implicit was the warning that he’d take no more prevarication.
“And I saw you measure the distances between the three of us and our relative positions.”
The subCommander nodded thoughtfully. “You saw my appraisal and interpreted it as a tactical assessment and probable precursor to a physical attack?” he asked.
Hirull hadn’t been so advanced in his thinking at the time. All he’d known was he hadn’t liked the way the intruder had sized them up and reacted on instinct. However, it sounded about right, so he nodded. “Yes Sir.”
“How long ago was your infantry training?”
“Elev-Twelve years, Sir,” he stumbled over his reply.
“Any Enforcement experience in those years?”
“No Sir.”
Oh just get it over with! Hirull despaired.
Enough with the questions!’ “And yet you correctly interpreted my look, thought quickly, and reacted properly to a perceived threat to your self and your ship,” tr’Tyrava said next, to everyone’s surprise. They’d all been waiting on the other shoe to drop and crush the technician, even though this officer’s method of torture was… unusual.
“You are quite perceptive and quick-witted. You are now promoted one grade in rank.”
Everyone blinked at that.
“Resume your duties, Underofficer trDertha.”
“A-Aye, Sir…” he responded, bewildered, and made for the circuit trunk the subCommander had been found in.
Returning his attention to Deila, he ordered, “Dismiss your squad, subCenturion.”
Still dazed, she nodded distractedly and complied, following them out the corridor.
Wha…? What the Ariennye
just happened here? Hdeian watched them leave then departed, grinning to himself.
*****
Kai tr’Raeteol pushed his way through the thronging crowds on the station as he made his way to the closest transporter room. Fingers damp with nervous sweat continually played with the groundside transporter pass issued to him for the duration of his stay on the starbase. It expired with the
White Star’s originally scheduled departure time, so it should be good until tomorrow morning – unless the Admiral had thought to cancel that, too.
Suddenly, the doors to Transporter Room Six were before him. He continued moving towards them but his pace slowed… and then they were receding before his eyes, seeming to get further and further away. Kai stopped dead in the corridor, then pressed himself against a bulkhead and rubbed his hand over his face again. A couple of deep breaths and he pushed himself from the wall and faced the doors.
And just stood there, staring.
He could not make himself go in.
Next thing he knew, he was fleeing the room, almost hyperventilating, pushing blindly through the crowds again in the opposite direction. Getting as far as possible from the transporter room and the chain of events it would set in motion.
Feeling disoriented and now lost, he again found a wall to lean against and breathe deeply. He looked up and found his bearings – he was on one of the starbase’s many concourses, and as the Elements would have it, he was within falling distance of the entrance to a tavern.
His feet had known the best place for him, even if his brain hadn’t.
The old-fashioned door defeated him only for a second – until he found the doorknob – and then he was inside the darkened rooms. The all-encompassing gloom made him feel safe and anonymous, the flickering of the lanterns accentuating rather than dispersing the shadows, and the smoke from the various tobaccos enveloped him and added to the welcoming atmosphere.
He bulled up to the bar, secured himself a stool, produced his personal credit chip and started his night as he planned to end it… however many hours hence that was.
“Ale. A bottle of 1744,” he ordered, knowing the four-year old vintage would pack a hefty wallop, “and
keep it coming.”
Topic: White Star: Episode One - Brave New World (Read 27533 times)