Crineal Chronicles 1: In Hera's Service

by Raymond L Jennings

  Crineal returned his salute. “At ease, Lieutenant. Is Lt. Commander Haraway available? I’d like a word with him.”

  Actually, the commander had given strict instructions that he wasn’t to be disturbed because of the current workload, but Draffar guessed that Commander Haraway hadn’t imagined that he was going to get a visit from Crineal, either. “I’ll just see if he’s available, Sir, but I’m sure he’ll have time for you.” He triggered his comm link and waited for a response.

  Haraway’s voice came through carrying a trace of annoyance. “What is it, Lieutenant?”

  “Sorry to disturb you, Sir. General Crineal is here. He says he’d like a word.” Draffar could almost hear Haraway’s brain working, trying to figure out what disaster could have possibly happened to elicit a visit from Crineal.

  “Send him in, Lieutenant,” came the voice after a short pause. “Don’t keep the general waiting.”

  Draffar keyed open the door to the inner office and motioned for Crineal to precede him. “This way, Sir.”

  Haraway was already standing when the pair of them entered the office. He saluted as Lieutenant Draffar announced. “General Crineal, Sir.”

  Crineal returned the salute. “At ease, Commander.”

  Haraway relaxed slightly. “That will be all, Draffar.”

  Draffar saluted the lt. commander. “Yes, Sir,” and left the office, closing the door behind him.

  “Please, General, take a seat. It’s an honor to see you.” Haraway waited until the general was seated before resuming his own chair.

  “Thank you, Commander. I hope I’m not interrupting anything important?” Crineal replied.

  “Not at all, Sir. It’s always a pleasure to be able to serve you.” Haraway was hardly an ass kisser but he felt that Crineal deserved all the respect he could give him. “Can I get you a drink, perhaps?”

  Crineal nodded. “Tea would be good. Thank you.”

  Haraway opened his comm. “Draffar, two cups of tea in here, if you please.” Then he turned back to Crineal. “Now, Sir, what can Recreation Division do for you? There isn’t a problem, I hope?” Haraway looked worried. He really did hope Crineal didn’t have an issue with his section.

  “No, no problem, Commander. I just wanted to make a request.” He stopped as the door behind him opened and Lieutenant Draffar entered carrying a tray with two cups of hot tea, cream and sugar. The lieutenant placed them on Haraway’s desk.

  “Anything else, Sir?” he asked.

  “Not at the moment, Draffar, thank you.” He nodded to the door, dismissing the lieutenant. Draffar saluted and left.

  Haraway waited until the general had added cream and sugar to his tea before fixing his own. “Now, Sir, a request you say?” He couldn’t imagine what Crineal wanted, as everyone knew he tried to stay away from the O-Rec as much as possible.

  Crineal sipped his tea. “Yes, Commander, I’d like to have one of the recreation assistants assigned to me directly.”

  Haraway almost dropped his cup. Had he really heard that right? “An assignment, Sir?” he said trying to get his head around the totally out of character request.

  Crineal looked at him. “It is still policy to assign recreation assistants upon request of a senior officer, I assume?” Senior, in this case, meant lt. commander or above.

  Haraway put his cup down hastily. “Of course it is, Sir, I was just…ummm. Let me bring up the current senior assistants list so you can make your choice, Sir.” He opened up a display and brought up the current O-Rec personnel list, the images and data cascading onto the screen.

  Crineal coughed quietly. “Actually, Commander, I have someone in mind already.”

  Haraway’s face brightened. “Oh, that will make it so much easier. Do you have a name, Sir?”

  He nodded, “Cyndora,” and took another sip of tea.

  Haraway punched in the name and then looked confused. “I’m sorry, Sir. I’m not getting a match. Perhaps I didn’t spell the name right?”

  Crineal spelled it out. Haraway tried again. “No, I’m still not getting anything, Sir,” he said in a puzzled tone.

  “She arrived in one of today’s consignments,” Crineal explained helpfully.

  Haraway’s face cleared instantly. “Ahh, that’s why I can’t find her records, her data won’t have been processed and added to the regular lists yet.” He punched some more keys and Cyndora’s face appeared on the display. Haraway started to read through the information. “Yes, low risk, seems to be ok.” He stopped and looked uncertainly at Crineal. “Uhh… she’s listed as standard service, Sir.”

  Ergo, much below the standard required to serve a general, Crineal thought. “Does that present a problem, Commander?”

  “Not at all, Sir, but I’m sure we have other candidates who would be much more suitable for your rank,” Haraway said earnestly.

  Crineal knew that Haraway was only trying to be helpful rather than obstructive. “I’m sure she’ll do fine.”

  Haraway nodded in acquiescence. “Of course, Sir.” He punched a few keys. “Let’s see. Today’s intake is due for their shipboard safety lecture tomorrow morning and then scheduled for a week’s indoctrination on their shipboard duties.” He tapped away again. “She can be ready for you in a week, Sir,” Haraway said with a smile.

  Crineal raised an eyebrow in surprise. “A week? I thought they’d already gone through indoctrination.” He put his cup onto the desk.

  “They have, Sir. We just like to ensure they understand what ship service is about. Make sure there are no misunderstandings.” Haraway leaned back in his chair. “Sometimes they don’t understand that a ship’s crew can be a little different. So we have our own separate routine; Lectures, tours of the rec areas and crew quarters. Give them an idea of what they’ll be dealing with.”

  Crineal thought for a second. “Routine? Not official policy? Or even local policy?” he probed.

  Haraway frowned for a second. “No, no, Sir. Nothing written down. Just something we prefer to do.”

  Crineal sat back at looked at him. “So if I really wanted her, say, after the safety lecture, then there wouldn’t be a problem?”

  Haraway stared glassily back at the general, his mind working overtime. It wasn’t by the usual routine, but it wasn’t breaking any regs, either. He could insist that the woman go through indoctrination, but then he might incur the wrath of his boss and the general by not cooperating with Crineal. If he did sign off on the general’s request, the supply division chief might be asking him some hard questions, though. In the end he decided that Crineal deserved any minor luxury they could supply and if Commander Nooney really did want to object then he could fight Crineal for the woman’s return for indoctrination. Haraway smiled at Crineal. “No, Sir, I’m sure there would be no problems. Let me just flag up her record and forward a note to the intake staff.” He tapped away again and looked at the display once more. “All done, Sir. The lecture should be done by ten thirty and she’ll be delivered to you by eleven hundred hours.” He turned back to the general and clasped his hands together on the desk.

  Crineal thought for a moment. “I’m out on patrol until thirteen hundred tomorrow. Would it be acceptable to leave her in my quarters to await my return?”

  Haraway held his smile in place. Crineal wasn’t making this easy for him. “I’m sure we can arrange that, Sir. I’ll put another note in to let the escort know to just drop her off. You’ll need to make sure that they’ll have access of course.”

  “I’ll do that, Commander. Thank you, you’ve been most helpful.” Crineal pushed his chair back and stood up.

  Haraway rose quickly and saluted him. “A pleasure to be able to assist you, Sir. If you have any problems or need other assistance, please comm me immediately.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind, Commander,” and with that Crineal turned and left the office.

  Haraway sat down and stared at the door Crineal had gone through and then pulled up the woman’s records again to add th
e note for the escort. He sat back and studied her picture. Haraway wondered what had brought Crineal’s attention to her. She was pretty, but not that pretty, no special skills listed. Nothing out of the ordinary at all, and she was a rebel. Crineal was known to detest them. Maybe he wanted payback? Maybe he just liked redheads? Well, not for him to question the motives of senior officers, especially those outside of his chain of command. He pulled up the screen he had been working on prior to the general’s arrival and sighed at the amount of paperwork still left to do.

  Chapter Five

  Cyndora stumbled down the shuttle’s cargo ramp and into the bay, following the prisoner in front of her almost blindly. She’d never been on a starship before and twelve months ago she would have been thrilled about a trip into space. Now it was just one more day of her incarceration. She’d be pleased if she could get through it without a beating. Dully, Cyndora kept her feet moving as the two lines of fifteen prisoners each made its way across the deck and through the huge cargo doors. Her head was down and she paid almost no attention to her surroundings, apart from making sure she didn’t trip or miss an order. The guards led them deeper into the ship, through bright white corridors with a black stripe on the walls that became a green stripe. Eventually they stopped in a communal shower room. An officer she didn’t know was waiting for them with six guards and another officer. The female lieutenant dismissed the escort and looked over the assembled assistants. The uniforms of the waiting guards and officer were slightly different from the ones Cyndora was used to seeing, black with silver instead of the grey of the security forces. She guessed these must be the regular ship’s crew. The woman spoke.

  “Alright, listen up. You…people,” her lips twisted at that word. Officially the prisoners in front of her were part of the Space Corps and therefore had a rank, even if that rank was below crewman. Most crew viewed that rank as being about on par with that of a chair and behaved accordingly. “Are now assigned to the IFWSC Carrier Annihilator. It is the finest ship in the fleet,” she said with pride. “And you will do nothing to disgrace her.” The lieutenant looked around at them menacingly, leaving them in no doubt what treatment they could expect if they did so. “You are designated as intake Sixty-Five B. Remember that and respond rapidly to any call for the reference.” She consulted her data pad. “You’re slated for a safety lecture at oh eight hundred ship’s time tomorrow morning followed by a week of ship’s duties indoctrination.” There was silence. They all figured that meant another week of physical and sexual abuse with beatings for those who failed to learn fast enough. The lieutenant continued, “You will rise at oh five hundred and exercise for an hour, then you will shower and eat. Are there any questions?” The room stayed silent, if anyone did have a question they were wise enough to keep it to themselves. “Very well, you will now take a decontamination shower and be issued new uniforms. Dump your old ones in the basket there,” she pointed to a large linen holder trolley in the corner. “Intake strip!” the lieutenant yelled.

  They all dutifully pulled off their togas, underwear and sandals and formed a line to drop them into the indicated trolley. There was no hesitation even though there were both men and women in the group and amongst the guards. Modesty was something they had lost months and months ago. By the time Cyndora had deposited her old clothes into the trolley, hot water was already streaming from the shower heads. She found an unoccupied one and stood under it, letting the hot water cascade over her. It was hot enough to sting, but it felt so good she didn’t care. There were soap dispensers fixed into the walls under the shower heads and she let some run into her hands. From its scent she guessed it contained anti-bacterial agents as well as soap. All things considered it was better than what she had become used to recently. She lathered her hair and rinsed it clean, then stood there with the water running over her until it shut off and was replaced by blasts of warm air. She turned herself in the air currents to make sure she was completely dry and then joined the line, falling in behind her friend, Jaydea, as they were herded through a door and into the next room. A large replicator unit was built into the wall of the room and each person was instructed to stand in front of it. She guessed it was scanning them, as a few seconds afterwards a slot opened in the machine to present a small pile of neatly folded clothes. Soon it was her turn. Cyndora stood there naked and waited for the scan. She felt nothing and wondered for a second if it was working. Then the slot opened and inside was the expected pile of clothes. She quickly stepped forward and took them out of the machine and then moved to one side to where those who had already been scanned were waiting, either dressed or donning their clothes. Cyndora dropped the sandals to the floor and pulled on the small white panties. That done she slipped her feet into the toe-holds of the sandals and tugged the toga over her head, carefully making sure it was settled correctly. A disheveled uniform meant punishment. Cyndora noted that the toga and panties were of better quality than the ones from the training center, they felt softer against her skin and fitted more comfortably. Once everyone was again clothed the lieutenant ordered them into ranks and looked them over.

  “You’ll do, I suppose,” the female officer said disparagingly. “Ok, those of you rated as senior take a pace forward. If you’re too stupid to be sure, then ask,” she snarled at them.

  About a third of the room moved. “You’ll be following me to the seniors’ quarters. The rest of you follow the ensign there.” She pointed at a young man off to one side. “He’ll take you to the standards’ quarters. You have the rest of the day to settle in, eat and rest. You’d better be ready to go at oh five hundred tomorrow. Dismissed to quarters!” She turned and headed out through a door behind her. Those designated as seniors followed her and two of the guards fell in behind them. When they had cleared the doorway, the ensign they were to follow went through and Cyndora took her place in the line and left the room, the four remaining guards bringing up the rear. After a short distance he stopped outside a door, keyed it open and gestured them inside. The lieutenant’s group continued on down the passageway. The room contained rows of standard basic beds, but they looked like heaven to Cyndora. Some were occupied, most were empty. Once they were all inside, the ensign addressed them from the doorway.

  “Find yourself an empty bunk and get settled, regular dinner call is in an hour. Any bed with a green light on the panel by it is free. To claim it put your hand on the panel scanner. There are two laundromat units either side of the shower area door for you to clean your uniforms. The mess hall is over there,” he pointed to the other side of the dorm from where he had indicated the shower area. “Any questions? Good.” He didn’t wait for a reply and closed the door, leaving them to find their new homes.

  Her little group started to disperse and Cyndora made her way over to a bed with a green light next to it, adjacent to the one that Jaydea had chosen. She palmed the scanner and the light turned red. With that done she sat down onto her bunk and looked around the room. It seemed to be a standard multi-sex dorm, very basic but clean, painted in the same white coating she had seen in her march through the ship. It was far better than anywhere she had been kept in the last year. She wondered what significance the green stripe on the walls had. Cyndora noticed that some of the bunks with red lights had a few small personal effects stored in the small panel recesses that served as shelves. This surprised her because, as prisoners, they hadn’t been allowed to own anything. As she thought about it, one of the women, who had been lying on a bed watching them since they entered, stood up and made her way into the center of the room. She was tall and well built, with a dusky skin and black hair.

  “Listen up, newbies. There’s a few things the guards didn’t tell ya, so I’m gonna make sure you’ve got it straight.” She looked around to make sure they were all paying attention. “First up, no stealing. Not from the crew and not from each other. If any crew stuff goes missing, they’ll be in here ransacking the place and handing out beatings. And ya sure as stars don’t want to be the th
ief. If ya steal from one of us, you’ll still get the beating and you’ll be on your own from then on. Being on your own in here ain’t good. Secondly, sometimes one of the crew takes a shine to one of us. They treat us a little better and sometimes give us little gifts. The higher the rank, the less likely ya are to be bothered by other crew members whilst they’re about. Which is good. But ya don’t try to muscle in on anyone else’s action. If ya get called over, that’s one thing, but ya don’t try and worm your way close to someone’s good thing. You’ll end up like the thieves, bruised and on ya own. Apart from that, we all try and look after each other and share what we got. It might not be much, but it’s all there is. Lesson over.” The woman swept her gaze over them once more and then returned to her bed where she climbed back on it and rolled over to sleep.

  Cyndora mulled over the woman’s words. She guessed they made sense when you had as little as they did and she supposed that some of the crew could be nice, but she wasn’t counting on it. Cyndora knew that most of her time was going to be spent with drunken and semi-drunken crew members, getting screwed by them to keep them happy. The best she could hope for was that some of them were gentle. The redhead stretched out on her bed, luxuriating in the most comfortable thing she’d lain on in almost a year, and waited for the dinner call. The mess hall was attached directly to the dorm room and had basic, long, plastic tables and benches to sit and eat at. The food was better than she expected, with at least a little choice, and even resembling the items it was supposed to be, rather than a mush. She sat chatting with Jaydea as they ate. They had been friends for years and were caught at the same time at a rebel meeting. Through some miracle of the system they had been kept together during the horrors of the last twelve months. By the time they were finished eating and talking they still weren’t sure if they’d made a smart choice opting for Space Corps duty, or had just consigned themselves to an even deeper pit of hell than the prison they had been destined for. They returned to the dorm room from the mess hall, stripped down to their panties and curled up to sleep in their respective beds.