Chapter One
“So Centurion, we are on our way,” Hdeian commented cordially to his XO as they took midmeal together. He removed his minced hlai and mashed
ra’kesh from the food synthesiser and awaited his Second’s choice.
“We are indeed Commander,” t’Kaldaiith replied distractedly as she made her selection, and moments later her steaming
plomeek soup appeared.
They took a table next to the large clearsteel viewports in the officers’ dining room and made small talk as they ate. Only a few officers were present and none were nearby so they spoke normally, not feeling the need to converse in secret. However, t’Kaldaiith looked somewhat uncomfortable in the informal setting, so Hdeian decided to call her on it.
“I hope you have no problems with my lack of protocol, t‘Kaldaiith. I prefer to keep officious, bureaucratic protocol at arm’s length. Business meetings and staff briefings will be official and proper but I find no great need to have them stilted and stuffy.” He raised an eyebrow at her frown. “If this will be a problem for you I want to know it now.”
She placed her spoon down so as not to rude, slurping on her soup while answering him. Hdeian took her speaking as an opportunity to chew luxuriously on the mound of mince and mashed
ra’kesh he scooped from his plate.
“It is not so much that I will have a problem with it as that I think others might rebel or sneer at it, Sir,” she replied slowly. “Too often a crew sees a lack of crushing authority as a weakness, and respect for senior officers and the chain of command suffer as a result.”
Hdeian took his time chewing his food properly and swallowing it properly before responding to that. The food synthesisers aboard this brand new, state-of-the-art cruiser were excellent, and much better than the next to useless machines on the older Klingon contraptions he’d been serving on. Compared to the gruel those soulless boxes had dished out, this “mince and keshies” was Ambrosia itself, even though a good month of home cooking before departure had highlighted that they weren’t yet up to ‘perfect’.
Bringing his mind back to more immediate matters, he finally answered t’Kaldaiith’s concerns. “Then such rebellious officers will discover to their regret that such presumption will earn them heavy penalties,” he stated coldly. “Do not make the mistake of assuming that my wish for an easier working atmosphere while official ship’s business is conducted makes me in any way unaware of Fleet Regulations and disciplinary edicts.”
T’Kaldaiith knew this from the very moment tr’Tyrava had stepped aboard, but there was no way she was going to be mad enough to bring that back to mind.
Not that it will have strayed very far regardless, N’alae thought with well-concealed misery and shame,
but nothing such as that benefits anyone from being openly acknowledged. “Still, Commander, your… approach… will confuse people. Undoubtedly, some will see this… attitude… as weakness and I think it inevitable that you will have to establish your disciplinarian’s credentials repeatedly. At least until the crew realises that leniency and discipline can coexist within the same person.”
Hdeian managed a sigh around another mouthful of mashed
ra’kesh. “Unfortunately, I think you are correct. Still, I live in hope.” He grinned then and added, “Stranger things have happened.”
While the thought obviously pleased him, all the sentiment did for here was bring back bad memories. She nodded stiffly, making Hdeian’s grin disappear.
Curse it, can’t the woman actually smile
for once? he grumbled inwardly.
There were a lot of things tr’Tyrava wanted to know about his humourless exec, such as why she favoured a Vulcan breakfast dish for midmeal, of all things, but chief among them was why she’d allowed the most junior of the command officers to bully her. As her commander, he could order her to tell him and she would have to – or would have to tell him
something that may or may not have been the whole truth – but that would open a possibly unbridgeable gulf between them and there was no way he could confirm beyond his own senses and wits what she told him under such duress would be the truth.
Hdeian was not yet ready to take that step, especially at the start of an eight-year tour in unexplored space with no chance for personnel transfers.
Hdeian also did not know her socially at all, never mind well enough to be considered a trusted friend. He had been trying to begin that process here, but his close-mouthed, haunted XO had clammed up and removed that option for the time being. He sighed again and grumbled inwardly.
Too many damned egos to bruise. That’ll last only as long as I let it, he consoled himself, after which egos stop being bruised and heads start getting sense bashed into them. Their meal finished in silence.
*****
T’Kaldaiith headed to her office, face as neutral as she could hold it but inwardly she was caught between anger and despair.
Secure in her office with the door codelocked behind her, N’alae’s impassive mien dropped and she paced about like a zoo animal long since driven mad from boredom. Her despair was from the reassertion of painfully familiar patterns, and the anger was from her lost hope at their resurgence.
Fan-bloody-tastic! What I need right now is an officious martinet who will back up any disciplinary matters I see fit to award, and I get a Fire-damned Traveller! she all but spat silently.
The only way these recalcitrant bunch of ignorant, space-happy explorers
will resume their proper place under my heel is to be forcibly slapped there in chains, and this Tyrava will be the last one to do it! She hauled off and kicked her chair over.
Powers curse the man! she railed.
This is going to go exactly the same as last time. I might as well fall on my sword now and save everyone else the trouble. *****
Weapons Master Gwuii t’Henaraii secured her console before turning it over to her evenwatch successor without a word. Words weren’t necessary as her logs of the day’s events were admirably complete, but the usual words between working colleagues was also absent due to Gwuii’s own foul mood.
Remaining silent while taking the travelcar with the rest of the daywatch, she stayed on as they departed on the quarters decks and took it to the officer’s dining room. On arrival, she saw her friends from the other shipboard departments waiting for her, already tucking into their own evenmeals.
While some crew preferred to retire to their quarters to freshen up after a standard fourteen hour duty watch before taking evenmeal, Gwuii and other likeminded crew liked to get the straight gen right away and/or unwind with friends from other parts of the ship, then take some solo time to relax and refresh themselves.
Grabbing her own selection from the food slots, she claimed her place among her confederates.
In seeing her expression. Dhiem tr’Naithor observed, “Our little beam of Eisnshine has arrived, to spread joy and serenity among her friends.”
Firing him an angry glare she told him, “Go retch, wretch!”
The comment elicited laughter from the other five officers. After five days of sneering and bitter complaints they all knew what ailed her and were dealing with it with as much grace as they could muster, but all were mutually wishing Gwuii would just
get over it! Unfortunately, Day Six of the Great Betrayal looked to be going along the same lines as the previous five.
“So, Gwuii, you look like someone who needs to vent their spleen,” Jorel tr’Adhar verbally prodded his friend. “What great calamities and indignities have you been forced to endure today?”
A second round of chuckling broke out at Gwuii’s expense. She choked down her second mouthful of
chorlak and Khazaran rice to snarl back. “Fire take you, Jorel! All of you! The situation is unbearable and I don’t know how to fix it!”
“Truly, we all now know why, but from what we have seen you have little to back your claims,” Jorel replied evenly.
Gwuii glared at the Engineer-Second, then at everyone else when they made noises of general agreement. “Are you
serious? Did you not hear of the incident on the shuttle deck the other day? The proof of t’Raeteol’s previous behaviour?” she demanded, voice high and agitated. Rounding on the Enforcement Master, she reminded him, “You were
on the shuttle deck with me, Dhiem! Do you deny the evidence of your own eyes?”
“It is true that what I saw that day did not impress me,” the Legionnaire admitted, “but circumstances were unusual. I doubt the young brat would have obeyed anyone until he’d been properly broken in.”
“But that’s exactly my point!” Gwuii pounced, her meal forgotten. “A proper commander
would have broken him in! Tr’Tyrava did that quickly enough, for certain, and he was aboard barely long enough to breath air! That Pureblood freak had
five days and tr’Raeteol walked all over her. Obviously some commanders would have to have been effective or, connections or not, Kai would have been forgotten somewhere or dismissed from the Fleet!” Gwuii railed passionately against her own personal nightmare.
“To some, being posted to a deep-space solo exploratory tour would be regarded as ‘being forgotten’,” Alma t’Karenth commented dryly, to amused looks from her fellow explorers.
Exasperated, t’Henaraii tried again. “You’re missing the point. This is only the latest evidence of Kaldaiith’s ineptitude! I swear to you by all the Elements that this is how her last tour went! She had us fooled for most of the cruise, but after the Commander discovered her true nature,
no one could stand to be under the command of such a craven, ineffectual officer.
Even our commander could barely tolerate her presence after that. The last year of the cruise was a farce.
“I… I even…” Gwuii faltered, knowing what a massive and possibly harmful breach in protocol it was for her to utter what she intended to say next.
“Gwuii?” Dhiem asked, curious.
Jorel was more forthright. “Come on Gwuii. You know you must say it now.”
“I…” She licked her lips and looked around. Some of her friends snickered at her apparent melodrama, but the honestly curious looks she was getting from the others and her own extreme agitation finally pushed her past her obvious reluctance, and she spilled her guts. “I even delivered a sword to her quarters.”
Shocked looks greeted this announcement, even over the prior litany of their new first officer’s supposed faults. They’d heard such before over the last five days since N’alae Kaldaiith had come aboard as their second in command, but that scuttling charge was
news.
In hushed tones, Alma asked, “You… delivered a sword? A senior officer actually asked you to send her one?”
“I won’t say who,” Gwuii told them quietly. “Even mentioning it is a grave breach of protocol and privacy. But I have to impress on you just how seriously everyone on the
Patrician was taking this. Discipline was faltering, ship’s routine was disrupted, but there was no real proof that she was unfit to wear the uniform. So one of the crew suggested to her the only honourable way out –
and she didn’t take it!” All the previous levity was gone as if never having existed. The sending of a sword was an ancient Rihannsu tradition that was even now falling into the background of modern Rihannsu life, if not actually falling into disuse just yet. If someone was perceived to have totally failed in their duties or responsibilities, then a sword was sent to the person with the implicit suggestion that the recipient use the “gift” to the benefit of Rihannsu society by having them fall on it. So extreme were the circumstances precipitating the invoking of this “message” that the consequences for ignoring it were just as extreme.
Such a message was rarely ignored.
Yet Kaldaiith had. Either their new first officer was so craven and without
mnhei’sahe as to merit the sending of a sword
and reject it, or Gwuii was such a liar as none of her colleagues had yet encountered. Lying about or misuse of this part of their culture and history was of a level with offences requiring its use.
Flat out, Enforcement Master Dheim tr’Naithor demanded, “Tell us all now, in the presence of the Elements, that
everything you have told us this evenmeal is true.”
It was a measure of her sincerity and belief in he words that Gwuii did not fly into a rage – or even so much as blink – at being called a liar. “I solemnly swear that all I have told you this night is true,” she answered the charge quietly.
Her absolute seriousness and sincerity about everything she spoke of gave her colleagues no choice but to believe her. However, this now left them with a serious problem.
Their new second-in-authority was as honourable and trustworthy as a Klingon.
Breaking the horrified, contemplative silence, Alma spoke up first. “We… have to let the Commander handle this. If… if we try anything against the Centurion it is mutiny pure and simple. We cannot act against her.”
They all knew their dilemma. Ever since the
Kestrel Mutiny some sixteen years ago, Military High Command had vigorously, almost viciously, enforced disciplinary matters aboard ships of the Grand Fleet. The slightest scent of inciting to mutiny or insurrection was a death sentence, Martial Crisis Pandect or not. Senior officers were still frequently disobeyed or thwarted, but any concerted attempt at overthrowing them was net with swift executions.
As a deterrent, it had few equals.
“Then we need evidence. Proof that the Commander witnesses with his own eyes,” Dheim stated quietly but firmly. “Something he can act on. He has already demonstrated that he will not tolerate children of privilege trying to get by on the influence of their Houses.”
Jorel spoke up. “Gwuii, you’re the only one to know all this. Only you can know what to do to force her problems into the public eye. This is not a conspiracy,” he added quietly, making himself clear. “We are not setting out to overthrow Kaldaiith. We’re merely bringing forth her flaws to the attention of our commander.”
He looked around the table for support and mutual encouragement. While nobody was touching their food any more, neither did they shirk from what they saw as their duty. They all nodded.
“Gwuii, we cannot be seen to be involved in this or we are all dead. It is up to you, and if you find another willing outside this circle, to provoke Kaldaiith into rashness. We will assist from the sidelines, but cannot do more.”
Gwuii sat there, staring down at her food.
Finally. Finally, they believe me. But now comes an even harder task. She hid her cravenness from us for seven years. Now only I know better on this ship and she must think she can start anew. She looked up and met her friends’ eyes. “I will do it. For the good of this ship and her crew, and the Empire.”
Her friends noted her nervousness and fear. They met her eyes and gave her respectful nods and brief smiles of solidarity and comfort.
“Elements safeguard you in your task, t’Henaraii,” Dheim told her warmly.
Gwuii returned the warm look, but inwardly worried.
I’ll certainly need their protection. 
Topic: White Star: Episode Two - Perceptions (Read 2973 times)