First Command (13 page)

Nathan Gopal could not have been more different if he tried. Gopal had been born in the Codiac Yard’s district of Levelflats, one of Solaria’s primary heavy manufacturing areas. He was the youngest of five children with two older sisters and two older brothers. Nathan’s father was a structural bracing technician who made a decent middle class living constructing the frame of sections of ship’s hulls before they were taken up to
Macran
to be fitted onto warships. Both of Nathan’s brothers had been conscripted into the Army during the Third Dominion War. Kaun, the oldest had taken a Dominion bullet on Calvert’s World, dying instantly. Iftan had served on Hyperia, and after the war ended decided he liked being in the Army so much he had reenlisted and was now a Sergeant with the 44th Mechanized Division. Nathan’s sisters Katie and Sundra had stayed home, doing their national service in the auxiliaries as civil defense wardens. Katie had married a timid accountant named Li Huan, and was on her third pregnancy after only four years of marriage, and when she did work she was a daycare provider. (Nathan was of the opinion that she liked babies so much she wanted as many as she could handle, but a sweeter kinder soul Nathan had never met.) Sundra was also married to a lovely woman named Sindra. The similarity in names being of great amusement to Nathan’s parents. Sundra had followed her father to work in the Yards and was a Joint Fitter, and was eyeing moving up to supervisor in a couple of years. Last Nathan had heard his sister-in-law Sindra, who was a homemaker-in-waiting was pregnant with her and Sundra’s first. The donor seemed to have taken well because it was triplets. When it had come time for Nathan to do his National service, he’d decided to sit for the Overwatch entrance exam along with about three million other prospective cadets, and somehow had scored well enough to gain admission to one of the 3,000 slots made available each year.

Despite the huge differences in their backgrounds, they had become fast friends due mainly to both of them being dedicated, bordering on fanatical, Singking Jayhawk fans. Aside from soccer, both men were dedicated, hard working and more than moderately ambitious. Both felt they had something to prove. Gopal because he came from a family that had buried one son in service to the state, and Trendale because his family name, something most Landed held dearer than anything else, was a joke among any social circle of the Republic. Over the last week that they had a new thing in common, their new commanding officer was driving them nuts.

Taking a sip of coffee Nathan asked, in his Lowlander accent his voice laced with sarcasm, “What’s the penalty for mutiny?”

In a deadpan voice Trendale replied, “Death by hanging, or decimation or ship.”

“Murdering a superior officer?”

“Death by hanging.”

“Maiming a superior officer?”

“Twenty-years hard labor with no possibility of parole.”

“On what grounds can you remove a superior officer?”

“I’m not up on that part of the regulations Nathan, perhaps we should ask our former CO?”

Trendale snickered at his own statement while Gopal winced a little. Neither man liked their old CO very much. Both men were loyal to the navy to a fault, and dedicated to advancing their careers. Captain Aloise Green’s actions in the
Hydra
scandal had cast a shadow over both of their careers. In addition to being a thief and an embezzler, Aloise Green had been a lazy and frequently incompetent man who had risen as high as he ever would in the Solarian navy and had only secured his command through ‘friends’. These were the same friends who he was now shackled to breaking up rock in one of the Republic’s penal colonies. Now they were serving under an officer with a less than reputable reputation, whose obsession with drilling was pushing both of them to the breaking point.

“Did you get your department’s schedule squared away, Nathan?”

Gopal shrugged, “I sent it to him earlier. He’s reviewing it. No doubt I’ll spend the next two days revising it.”

“Hunh no doubt, the new Captain seems to enjoy playing with his toy. How did we end up with Pavel the Pirate any way?” Trendale said unsuccessfully trying to keep the resentment out of his voice.

Gopal gave his friend an odd look. Trendale had a short temper, and a larger than normal ego which he more than occasionally let get out of check. Gopal’s grouching about the new Captain was mostly due to exhaustion, and the typical bellyaching a junior officer would feel toward a CO. Trendale’s obvious distaste for Captain Pavel was bordering on unprofessional.

“Will,” Gopal said gently, “I know the CO has been a bit hard on us but...”

“Stuff it Lieutenant Commander!” Trendale snapped letting his temper get the better of him. “I DONT NEED YOU TO LECTURE ME ON PROFESSIONALISM.”

Gopal jumped to his feet snapping to attention, “Aye sir, if you’ll excuse me sir I need to return to my duties.”

Without another word, Gopal turned and left the room. He strode down the hallway eyes front not even turning his head when he heard the crash of Trendale’s coffee cup against the door.

In his cabin, Trendale threw Gopal’s half empty cup against the wall for good measure, before sinking into his chair. His anger deflating like a balloon with the air let out of it. If he was honest with himself, Trendale knew his resentment of the captain wasn’t coming from the man’s actions or leadership, but his own insecurities and resentment toward the now incarcerated Captain Greene. Greene’s actions had added to the lengthening shadow upon Trendale’s career that had only grown since his graduation from the academy. Trendale was a hard working and dedicated officer, but his personal foibles and prickly nature often led him to clash with superiors. This led to bad fitness reviews, which meant slow promotion and less than pleasant assignments. At thirty-four, Trendale was the XO of a destroyer having been a Commander for almost five years. His seniority and aptitude, which was above average, should have rated him as XO of a larger ship or his own command even. Instead, he was stuck under a Captain who he was growing more and more resentful of, alienating his friends, and seeing his name in the newssheets next to the word scandal a place he’d sworn it would never be. Shaking himself from his rage, Trendale grabbed a towel and began cleaning up the mess he’d caused. Telling himself he didn't need to like Captain Pavel, all he needed to do was work with him. “Keep your head down Will. Don't make any waves and after this cruise you’ll get what’s your due,” Trendale muttered to himself as he picked pieces of shattered coffee cups off the floor.

Chapter
VI

On board
RSNS Titan
DD-0023 Solaria System, Solarian Republic,

En route to the Kaplan Wormway

January 31st  841 AE  (2802 AD) 16:00hrs

The Wardroom was located directly beneath the bridge and above the officer’s quarters accessible only via two companion ways one of which continued up to the less formal staff room directly behind the bridge where the ship’s officers could meet and plan. Instead of cold battle steel, the Wardroom was far more decorative than the rest of the ship. The walls were wood paneled with large antiquated maps of Solaria, Nova Terra, Earth, and Mars serving as wallpaper. The woodwork was carved in what some would have described as Solarian Neoclassical crown molding, complete with fat little cherubs playing with dangerous weapons. The room was dominated by a grandiose Blood Wood dining table that was large enough to seat twenty people. The Wardroom was the officer’s solitary retreat where no enlisted man or Noncom would dare venture, which made it all the much stranger that Captain Pavel had insisted on the new Quartermaster Rodriquez attend. As a Warrant Officer, he was technically entitled, but it was against the usual social norms. None of the other officers seemed bothered by it in particular, not even Lieutenant Halman. They were all too busy adjusting to the Captain's order that the formal dinner would be held with undress uniforms and none of the usual frills. This fact was made more pronounced by the Captain's instructions to the steward that beer and hard liquor would be on the menu in addition to wine. Dinner was scheduled to begin at 15:30, but the Captain was running late. Jonathan had spent the day reviewing the training schedules that each department head had turned in. He was making his revisions while the crew and officers went about their routine duties relieved at last to have a respite from the frantic pace of activity. Jonathan entered fifteen minutes late, and his officers came to attention and saluted.

“At ease,” Jonathan said waving his hand, “If you will all be seated, we will begin presently.” Jonathan took his place at the center of the table, with Sandra Chan as the most junior officer present across from him, and the others seated according to their rank and length of service on the ship. With the company seated, the steward’s mates entered and poured the wine before bringing the first course of sautéed Caliloops with mushrooms and onions. Caliloops were a shellfish native to Solaria similar to scallops of Earth, but with four tentacles. They were harmless to humans in the wild growing roughly 8 inches at their greatest length. They were bottom feeders propelling themselves across the bottom of the sea with water jets and feeding on microscopic organisms. They were also quite delicious when properly cooked and a delicacy on Solaria. Jonathan was quite pleased with the choice. He’d always been fond of seafood, and he felt reassured in his decision to forgo the tradition of the Captain deciding the menu for his first formal meal aboard ship and let the steward prepare what he thought most appropriate. After the plates were set and the beverages were poured, Sandra Chan gulped somewhat nervously and rose from her seat raising her glass, “Gentleman,” as the only women present she forwent the traditional ladies, “The Republic.”

“The Republic,” they chorused back. The toast was a tradition dating back to the end of military rule when the outgoing Junta swore to never again overthrow the civilian government. Ever since, every social occasion where members of the military gathered began and ended with a declaration of loyalty to the Republic, which they served. The first course proceeded pleasantly enough although conversation was a bit stilted and subdued. Jonathan could tell his officers still didn't quite know what exactly to make of him. Jonathan kept his own counsel while his officers chatted somewhat awkwardly about various topics, mostly cultural ones. Dr. Walder was a fan of the theater. He and Lt. Halman were engaged in a lively discussion about the revival version of the
The Clown of Boston
that had been touring Solaria for the past year. Lt. Commander Gopal, and Commander Trendale just ate their meals in silence, while the most junior officers Krishna and Chan discussed sports with Lt. Baker. Lt. Smith seemed to be pushing his food around his plate more than eating it. Jonathan didn’t find cause to say anything until well into the second course. When Dr. Walder slammed his hand on the table making everyone jump.

“But that is preciously the point Lieutenant Halman. Values that seem universal to one era are alien to the next.”

Halman responded oblivious to the drop off in other conversations and in his own raised tone replied, “Hogwash doctor, the show is amusing no doubt, but values like liberty, fidelity, right and wrong are universal constants.”

Jonathan interjected, “I believe both the gentleman are correct in their assertions, however I would surmise to say they are also both completely wrong.”

Walder and Halman stopped both turning to Jonathan along with everyone else.

Walder sputtered a half formed apology, “Oh forgive us sir... we um.”

Jonathan raised his hand, “You were discussing the underlying aspects of the play
The Clown of Boston
correct?”

“Yes sir,” Halman said somewhat bashfully.

“And one of you maintains the plot while amusing is irreconcilable with reality because social mores evolve over time rather than remain constant.”

“Well,” Walder said glancing around at the other silent, neutral faced officers. “Yes sir, that is the joke isn't it? A man from 24th century Earth falls through a hole in time to 16th Century Boston. The comedy comes from how irreconcilable his world view is with that era.”

Halman, “ Yet even in the 16th century murder was murder wasn't it Doctor?”

“It was Mr. Halman yet, murder in those days was far easier to justify. If say you caught the rouge in bed with your wife,” Jonathan said dryly.

“Precisely Captain,” Walder said. “I mean, yes murder was murder but it was also an era of rampant sexual repression and legal slavery. You can see how a modern man, well modern being a relative term since the play is four hundred years old, would be totally out of place.”

“I don't think he would be though Doctor,” Jonathan replied. “The 24th century was a great time of progresses for mankind, but it was also a time where we fell back into olde, inferior habits, some of whom haunt us to this day. Slavery is legal on several worlds even to this day, and as for sexual repression, well there's New Helvetia.”

Walder winced at the mention of New Helvetia. It was hard for rational people not to. The New Helvetian Dominion’s society was almost identical to that of 13th century Europe, complete with burning at the stake.

“I take it you're not a fan of the
Clown
then Captain?” Halman said a tinge of smugness returning to his voice.

“No, not as such Mr. Halman,” Jonathan replied taking a sip of his wine. “My mother had a strong preference for the ancient classics. When I was a mere lad of fourteen she took me to see the
Mikado
at the Grand Savony in Centennial City.”