by Ivan Turner
But there was more to it than that.
Maybe it was because she was getting older, but she was beginning to think about having a family. The emptiness of being alone was finally beginning to creep into her soul and she knew that she would have to make a conscious decision soon or do something stupid. Something else stupid.
What had happened between her and the captain had been random and inexplicable. It was random because the two rarely had direct contact; they’d only worked closely together a couple of times before. It was inexplicable because he was a heartless and callous man whose best years were behind him. It was stupid because he ran his ship the way he ran his life. He made room for the darkness and regarded it with a lot more consideration and respect than anything positive. He thrived on angst. Cabrera was not one of those women who was hell bent on finding a lump of clay of a man and shaping him into her perfect image. She did not see Beckett as a challenge or even a feasible choice in a man. And yet their stupid, random, inexplicable encounter had raised feelings inside of her that were undeniable.
Damn her hormones! Did Beckett even care about her? Probably not. If she were a betting woman, she’d lay down her money on him not having given it even a thought. After all, it was just one kiss during an awkward moment. Who even knew Beckett had it in him? She had spent three weeks praying for a transfer and wondering how she would face him if she didn’t get it. What was he wondering about?
Damned Royce!
They could just as easily have transferred her off of the Valor like she’d requested, but then they wouldn’t have had room for the new officers. Royce’s rank was too high and they’d have had to knock a man like Humphrey Applegate down a peg. Wouldn’t that have been a shame?
It was all academic anyway. She was going out on another tour aboard the Valor. Her contact with the captain would likely be as limited as it had always been. When it was over she would put in for another transfer. If it wasn’t granted she would consider retiring from the service. She wouldn’t get a full pension, but at thirty four that didn’t seem like such a big deal. Just one more tour. All she had to do was keep herself from doing something stupid.
Something else stupid.
Everything Out Of Sorts
The Crew Chief met Captain Beckett as he checked in aboard the Valor. He was an older, grizzled, surly man by the name of Rumple Hardy (no one believed that Rumple was his given name, yet it appeared on every legal document anyone could turn up). Hardy was another of those guys who just couldn’t get along with anyone. Most crews with which he’d worked had been composed of men and women who had learned to hate him. For a Crew Chief, that wasn’t the best of practices. And yet, he was so good at his job that even the members of the Admiralty couldn’t find an excuse to remove him from duty. He and Beckett had found each other six years earlier and formed an instant and mutual respect.
It was amazing how Beckett had found himself comfortable with his dependency on Hardy. Since becoming an officer, he had worked very hard at making sure that his reliance in all possible situations was totally on himself. Excessive reliance on others led to mistakes for which he alone was responsible. But Hardy was almost flawless. He was almost as dependable as Anabelle Rodrigo. Beckett had found that he could always count on the chief to gain important information or simply provide valuable insight.
“Boone’s been on board for six hours,” he said by way of greeting.
“No kidding,” Beckett answered. He didn’t know whether to be impressed or worried. Boone wasn’t the type of guy to push himself.
Hardy nodded. “He ran an inspection of the vehicles and weapons right away, had something to eat and a shower, and then inspected Control.”
That was very odd. The weapons and vehicles were under Boone’s direct authority, but not the control room. As an officer, he had a right to be anywhere on board and inspect any equipment, but he seldom exercised that right.
“Where is he now?”
“Engine room.”
“Another inspection?”
Hardy nodded again.
“That’s damned peculiar.”
And again. “It’s a damned peculiar tour.”
They made their way down the corridor to the service ladder that led to the control deck. On that deck was a conference room where they could be comfortable.
“What do you have on our new officers?”
Hardy pulled a face. “They’re not our regular additions. Ukpere is a company man down to the bone. His record is spotless and his promotions have come on schedule to the minute. Applegate’s not as squeaky clean, but he’s not a Space Force reject like the rest of us.”
“Ukpere, Applegate, and Tedesco.” Beckett ticked off the names carefully.
“Don’t forget about Cabrera.”
The captain looked a question.
“She’s got as good a record as any of them and she doesn’t fit too well on board the Valor.”
“She’s a good lieutenant.”
“She was a good lieutenant. Now she’s an officer.”
“What’s your point?”
“My guess is that they’re trying to turn this ship around. Too many rookies come off of the Valor only to find their way back on a few years down the road.”
Beckett suppressed a reaction borne of frustration.
“It would do the Admiralty good to have someone on board that could set a good example,” Hardy surmised.
“And what do think they plan to do about its captain?”
This time Hardy had no answer, but that didn’t mean he didn’t think they wouldn’t do something. Beckett had almost no friends left in the service. Certainly there were none of any rank. Even his relationship with Admiral Poulle was tenuous. Rumors of his end had been floating around for years.
“It doesn’t matter. Cabrera wouldn’t be involved in a plot to unseat me.”
“Just because she kissed you?”
Beckett reddened, biting back his response.
“She requested a transfer, you know.”
This time Beckett couldn’t stop himself. He let out an angry gasp, but managed to cut it off there.
Hardy said, “And they transferred Royce instead. Why leave a promising young officer here and transfer out the son of a bitch?”
And add two more good officers besides, Beckett was thinking. “There’s not a whole lot I can do about it.”
“Not a damned thing,” Hardy agreed. “Just watch your back.”
Walker Log 1
Captain’s log, star date…I don’t actually know the star date. Who keeps track of a star date? (some staticky laughter in the background) I’ve just always wanted to say that.
We jumped back into normal space seventeen minutes ago. That’s how long it took for me and my fine crew to readjust to the lack of gravity and get our bearings. A gold star goes to Alice Roberts, who was able to chart the stars and find our position in just under nine minutes. (some background applause)
Everyone’s very excited.
I wish I could convey the electricity on this ship right now. This is the very first log entry after an interstellar jump. We have truly gone where no man has gone before (boos and catcalls from the background). Sorry. We’ve gone where no one has gone before. My crew thinks I should be more considerate seeing as half of them are women. They’re probably right. I’d hate to incite the first ever mutiny on an interstellar voyage because of my own narrow-mindedness.
(someone shouting something garbled in the background, followed by Walker’s genuine and natural laughter)
I’m going to have to edit the heck out of this log. Then again, maybe not.
We’ve mapped out the current solar system and the fourth planet from the sun is actually the habitable one, so we’ll make for that. Alice says it’ll be eleven days before we can reach it at normal speed. Geoff (Markakis) concurs. It would be nice if it were as simple as that but Gil (Mendez) thinks that a full inspection of the ship is in order before we start limping across the voi
d (more boos and catcalls followed by a chuckle from Walker himself). I concur with Gil's assessment. We'll sit tight for a couple of days until he can complete a thorough check-up of the ship and its systems inside and out. Two weeks is just enough time for us to prepare to land and explore the new world. It’s a very exciting time to be a pioneer.
Colonel Nicholas Walker
March 14th, 2056
The Bastard and the Brat
Beckett paused the audio clip after finishing the first entry of Colonel Walker's log. He’d already listened to the whole thing, what there was of it, several times. There was nothing to be gained from the words. However this assignment presented itself, there was more under the surface. They could call it a “fact-finding” mission or a mission of “historic importance” or even a “training mission”. They could simply call it Ted Beckett’s punishment for being Ted Beckett. But none of that really explained why they had chosen the Valor for this mission. None of it explained why they had shuffled the crew so that Beckett wasn’t commanding his usual ship load of bastards and rookies. None of it explained why John Poulle been just a shade of John Poulle when detailing the whole expedition. None of these events had been random. There was a reason for each of them. But would Beckett find those reasons before their ultimate purpose found him?
The captain’s cabin was a shoe box of a room. Of course, the Valor was more akin to a submarine than a cruiser. The hallways were low and narrow and the large part of the crew bunked in communal rooms and shared communal toilets. Even the captain shared a bathroom with his officers (who bunked two together). But she was a strong ship, faster than anything else in the fleet, and armed well enough to take on a pirate dreadnaught, should the need arise. The stateroom itself had just enough space for a small desk and chair. He kept few items on the desk. There was a keyboard screen built into it so that he could access the ship’s computer directly. Other than that, the picture of a bright baby boy smiling his toothless smile looked out at him every minute that he spent inside. Right across from the desk was a bunk that folded out from the wall. As he did at this moment, Beckett often chose the bunk over the desk chair. He sat with his back to the wall and his legs crossed, the wireless earpiece through which the words of Walker’s journal had come barely visible in his left ear. His reader sat on the bunk next to him.
There was a knock on the door.
Regaining his air of command, Beckett stood and took his time folding up the bunk. It would be necessary if two people were to fit in the room. Over the years, he had seen many people transfer off of the Valor strictly because of its size, but he liked the claustrophobic atmosphere. Commanding the Valor was like wearing an expensive suit. He was clothed in his ship the way corporate administrators brandished their style.
The door slid open with a latch and a push to reveal Lieutenant Lara Tedesco. No big surprise.
"Something I can help you with, Lieutenant?"
She held in her hand her own reader and Beckett could see that there was a report on the screen. Tedesco had no reports due so there was only one thing that could be on that reader. Something about which she desperately wanted to question the captain.
"We'll be in approach range in eighteen minutes, sir," she reported unnecessarily. The computer on his desk gave him up to the minute information on the workings of the ship.
Lara Tedesco was a short kid with floppy brown hair that skirted the boundaries of regulation. Her uniform was wrinkled, as if she never found the time to put her damned clothing away. Forgetting the fact that female officers were usually the most tidy, it seemed as if she went out of her way to look unkempt. It was as if she felt this would generate respect from her underlings, if not her superiors. And she exuded an attitude of superiority that Ted Beckett just couldn’t swallow. He could argue that he resented her because she’d coasted on her father’s reputation, that professor after professor had passed her through her schooling based on her last name. But, while it was all true, it was also all bullshit. The bottom line was that he just didn’t like her. For officers, objectivity was stressed as one of the primary qualifications for success but Beckett thought that was a lot of bullshit, too. Objectivity got people killed. Go with your gut, was his motto. If he didn't like someone, there was a damned good reason why. He wasn't about to second guess his own instincts because of some self righteous, by-the-book ideal that had no business being in application.
"I'll be in Control at that time, then, Lieutenant," he said sourly. When Tedesco held her position, Beckett concluded with, "Dismissed."
"Can I ask you something?"
Here it comes. "Go ahead."
"Can you maybe explain this?"
It did not escape Beckett's notice that, in the last two statements, Lieutenant Tedesco had failed to address him as sir. He decided to make the kid sweat, make her drag it out of him.
"What's that, Lieutenant?"
"This report," Tedesco said breathily.
"That report is on a reader in your hand. I can't see it so I can't very well explain it."
Tedesco angrily put the reader in the captain's hand. "Here. You know what it is. You wrote it."
Beckett didn't even bother to look at the reader. "What do you want to know?"
"What do I want to know?!" Tedesco cried, flustered. "I want to know why. Why would you file a formal protest against having me as part of your crew?"
The answer sprang to Beckett's tongue like a jackal and he held it, a task akin to holding back that very same jackal with a shoestring leash. He took a subtle breath and handed the reader back to the young lieutenant without ever even having glanced at the miniature screen. It was all true. He'd told John Poulle that he wanted Tedesco removed from the manifest. When Poulle had thwarted him, he'd filed a formal protest with the Admiralty. His protest was well worded and thought out, without ever mentioning the girl’s father or favored existence in the Force. It was also a tremendous waste of time.
Beckett looked down at her. He stood a head taller than she, which didn't intimidate her one bit. That was fine. The longer Tedesco maintained the attitude, the longer Beckett would be able to justify his position.
"Lieutenant?"
"What?" Still frustrated. Good.
"Didn't they ever teach you how to address a superior officer?"
"A superior officer, yes."
Beckett clamped down hard against the retort. Technically, he could already have her chained up but that would just create a whole new set of problems. No, it was better to keep this between the two of them.
"Maybe when you learn your place, you'll get your answers." Beckett stepped around her. A crewman, Barnes, was walking by the open door and, startled out of a private reverie, gave the captain a half salute.
"Permission to speak freely?" Tedesco asked and then added, "Sir."
Against his better judgment, Beckett closed the door.
The lieutenant continued. "I know why you wrote this report. You're jealous."
This time, the jackal let out a bark before being restrained but it was a just simple bark of laughter. There was only a little venom in it.
"Don't laugh at me. You're jealous because I'll outrank you before you know it and you'll never be anything but what you are now. How long have you been a captain?"
And this time, the jackal broke free entirely. Beckett turned on Tedesco with such ferocity that the smaller girl shrank away from his anger. "You listen to me, Lara. I'm still here because I'm the best damned captain the UESF has ever seen. If you really want to know why I wrote that report it has everything to do with the fact that I think you're incompetent. In fact, every instructor you've ever had has labeled you incompetent behind your back."
"Then how did I get all the way up to lieutenant?"
"Don't insult my intelligence, kid. You're riding on your dad's coat tails but that doesn't fly here. Your attitude is shit and your skill set is a bucket of shit. Don't think for one second that I'm going to play along with the game that got you onto m
y ship. Believe me, you'll wish you'd never been assigned to me."
"My father will bust you…"
"Don't threaten me. Part of having nothing to gain in this career is also having nothing to lose."
Tedesco relaxed her shoulders a bit, thought for a minute. "So you're going to shut me out of everything, treat me like a rookie?"
And now Beckett flashed an unsettling grin in the other's direction. The prospect seemed to cow her more than anything else. For the first time, he saw a glimmer of a person who was trapped in the shadow of her father rather than someone who was desperately trying to hide in its shade. Beckett had no sympathy. "No way. You wanted to be an officer, and now you are. I fully intend to run you as hard as regulations allow. I want to give you every opportunity to fuck up and when you do, I'm going to crucify you. My seal of approval doesn't come with daddy's initials. Now get your ass out of my stateroom and the next time I see you, you’d better attach sir to the end of every sentence or I'm going to bust you for insubordination.
"Dismissed."
"But…"
"Dismissed!"
A Ghost in the Dark
The control room of the Valor, commonly referred to as Control, was as proportionately small, as compared to other ships, as the rest of it. It was situated toward the bottom of the ship and the only normal approach was from an access ladder that led down from above. In an emergency, there was a tube that ran the length of the bottom of the ship and up through the hull. The tube itself was part of a whole system of emergency accessways, commonly referred to as the Habitrail. The Habitrail connected the entire ship through its outer shell and underbelly. It was a less than convenient way of navigating around the ship in case of an enemy boarding or depressurization.
