THE SPACE NAVY AU (18+)

You let the corner of your mouth quirk a little before going stern again. "Acknowleged, but he was providing medical care to our Captain. If Erskin's fins fell off from lack of treatment, it'd be my fault even more than Carmin's, don't you think? All the medics were here in the quarantine zone, and I forcibly removed him from it. Commander Gawker might be a tiny volcano goddess of whom we are all in awe, but she's not an expert on burn treatment."

 

"I think if she finds out you said that no one would have to punish you," Dennys, who obviously fancies herself a comedian, says.

"Dennys, shut up," the big woman snarls. She rounds on Bel, bristling up again. "Commander, look. It's been— it's been a fucked up week, all this fucked up shit happened, you were there, sir, it happened to you, we've got to get order back. We've got to—" she waves her arms in helpless anger. "You understand, there's got to be consequences! And, yes, punishment, there's got to be en- enforcement, of, of regulations. We can't just let all this shit keep— keep going, like it's alright."

 

"I'm glad you agree," you say solemnly. "So Carmin and I both need to be punished, because the rules are the rules. But I was going through the regulations on the way down here, and you'll be glad to know that they do make stipulation for extenuating circumstances. You can look it up yourself, Chapter 5 is Corrections and Punishments, have a look at 9-H there. A ranking officer can change the severity of punishments based on the situation."

You wait for them to check it on their own devices. You've heard of officers using that sub-regulation to come down extra hard on someone they felt personally insulted them. Using it to lighten a punishment, not so often.

 

"Well— alright," she says, backing down incrementally. "As long as no one gets— gets away with anything. What are you going to do with her? And— and there were others, you know. Who acted out against their superiors, and, added to all the chaos, the mess. And fucked everything up. We should have a, a tribunal."

 

"Hm." You page through the regulations, taking her proposal seriously. "No, I don't think this merits a tribunal. No one's trying to hide anything. Standard disciplinary procedure should be sufficient, just pass things up to me or the Captain in the usual way." You grab a chair and set it beside Carmin's bed. "I'll have to leave my own case up to Erskin's discretion, obviously, but my rank is more than sufficient to handle Carmin's." You pat said troll's arm. "Focus, Carmin, I need to get the facts straight. Tell me what happened."

You're sure it was recorded, but it's still important to let the principals speak.

 

Carmin rolls to face Bel. "Hi, I woke up here. You're hot. Are you a stripper? Are you going to strip? I hope so. Can I have more fruit ice, hottie?"

The big admin makes an inarticulate rage noise.

 

You pinch the bridge of your nose and sigh, mostly to cover the effort of not cracking up. "Is she on a monumental shitload of drugs right now?" you ask no one in particular. "No, nevermind, it doesn't matter. If she can mistake me for a stripper -- in my Planetary Marines uniform, no less -- there's no guessing what she thought Captain Aspera was when she clapped his ears. I thought there were malevolent owl spirits in the vents, Sergeant Murfey was trying to carve extra eyeballs out of his arms, it's a miracle there's enough left of our brains to function."

Loopy or not, though, Carmin does need to be informed of the charge and punishment. It's procedure. You'll email her later in case she doesn't retain any of this. "Carmin, do you remember giving the Captain bacon ears?"

 

"The who what? Fucking A, hot stuff, if there was bacon around here I wouldn't share with anyone, I'm starving."

She considers Bel. "I might share with you, sugartips," she says, and gives a big wink. "Hell, I'd give you anything you liked. Where'd you come from? Was it heaven? Because, uh." She rolls over again, nibbles her cuffs. "Something, something, better on the floor."

 

"Riiiiight. Well, not that you're going to grasp this right now, apparently, but: for assaulting a superior officer, the standard penalty is death, but as per Article 9, due to the extenuating circumstances of you being completely off your gourd with a spore infection at the time, I'm just going to give you a hundred hours' extra duty. Report to the Head of Maintenance for your schedule once the med staff clears you to return to work." You tilt your head, looking for any sign that she's comprehending you at all.

 

"Okay," she says peacefully. "It'll be nice to get back to work. There's lunch breaks. Maybe extra work will give me extra lunch. If you're here to strip for someone else, can you get me more fruit ice, like, on the way?"

(things the patients do not care about: feeling bad about things.
things they do care about: snacks and hotties.)

 

You hesitate, then sigh and pat her hand. "Sure, no problem." You get up and flag down a medic to forward the ice request to. That done, you look back and see that the three angry admins are still hanging around. You give them a pointed look. "Still here? You know how shortstaffed we are."

 

Two of them scuttle off, looking abashed, but the ringleader stands her ground. "We should add sexual harassment to her charges," she says, stiff with outrage.

"No, I'm fine," Carmin says, sounding innocently puzzled. "I think it's really nice you guys bought me a stripper."

"You filthy little scumbag—" The big woman bares her teeth and brings her claws up as she snaps, lunging for the sleepy lowblood in a red-eyed rage.

(this lady has some equius-esque hierarchy issues and the last week has not been great for her composure)

 

You were sort of waiting for that. You're ready to catch her, use her own momentum to put her against the wall with her arms joint-locked behind her. "Deep breath, Admin," you rumble. "Save me the paperwork."

Out of the corner of your eye you can see Twitch sparking and looking disappointed; she wanted to be the hero. But that would cause paperwork too.

 

The admin squirms a few times and goes still, huffing through gritted teeth. "Just as you like, sir," she growls, and when Bel lets her go, she gives him a heated, poisonous glare and storms out of the block.

"Haha, wow, what a colossal bitch," Twitch says. "That had better not have been the Captain or I am out of here."

Carmin looks over at the girl, crunching happily on her bowl of ice. "No, kid, the Captain's, uh. He's got that. You know, that face, that thing with his face." She waves her claws at her own face, presumably indicating facial scars. "He's alright. Hey, you're really young to be up here, you better not be a stripper too like Major Hotpants over here, that'd be fucked up."

Twitch gives Bel an assessing once-over. "I could be if I wanted to," she concludes, defiantly, and gives a toss of her short hair.

 

You're not going to touch that one. You change the subject. "Unless someone ambushes me with an emergency, I'm going to go visit Helmsman Galgal. I'm still technically sicklisted. And so are you, for that matter, Princess. No exotic dancing in Medbay," you mock-scold. "If you'd care to hang about and keep the recovering spore casualties company, though, I'd appreciate it, and I bet they would too."

 

"Kid, I don't know how much money I have, but I will give you all of it if you bring me some hotwings," Carmin says.

"I only do coffee runs right now," Twitch says, double checking the writing on her arm. "Do you want that?" She fetches out a notebook and pencil. Another patient hears the word coffee and scoots hopefully closer. Soon Twitch is industriously scribbling down a list of names and orders.

 

With a proud little smile, you leave her to it. That is one resilient kid.

You're already getting a little tired when you reach Galley's door. After visiting him, you think maybe you'll just go straight back to quarters, see if Pancho is around or if Erskin feels like a no-rassling cuddle, because you could really use a snugglenap. (The idea of a snugglenap with Galley crosses your mind and makes you blush a little, but you know it's probably much too early for that.) You knock politely even though you're pretty sure he's been watching.

 

Galley lets him in, grinning from ear to ear. "Hey, who ordered the stripper?" he asks. "I don't have any fucking friends. Or any fucking money. Are you sure you're supposed to be here?"

 

Rolling your eyes but unable to hide a grin, you say, "I was supposed to jump out of a cake, but it was too small and I couldn't fit." You produce the heart-shaped pancake and offer it to him.

 

"I'll live with the disappointment. Come here, I need to—" Galley grabs Bel's free hand up in his, ignoring the pancake, and pushes his face into the palm. He says, with fierce relief, "Okay. Okay, good. You're. You're here. You could have died, you know. And I wouldn't have been able to touch you like this. Ever again. We had to keep walling off more and more of the ship against you, to keep a clear perimeter between the quarantine zones and, and. Uh. Here."