"Petty Officer Third Class Ruelin Vespid, olive, fifteen sweeps, sir. It's in the report. Sir, if you didn't want me to involve myself, why did you allow me to go?" Not the faintest hint of suspicion or betrayal makes it into your voice or onto your face. You sit on the rock like a statue, back straight, hands on your knees. Of course he's going to discipline you for killing a violet. He may space you. But damned if you won't make him say why before he does it.
"The invitation was to you, it was your business what you did with it, and if you wanted to ship out under a more prestigeous command I'd just as soon see you gone. You're huge, handsome, and intelligent: blood aside, you could do very well with an officer like Hardcase. Not Hardcase himself, mind you, we already put his rotten corpse through the nutrient reclaimers." You run your fingers through your hair. You were terribly angry on the way here, but now you're just sad. You always get sad. "You killed Vespid right in front of his kismesis, Kadros, the same girl who got him his promotion. Arling Perigi, teal, CPO. She'll be on suicide watch for a while. It says well of you that you looked up his name, and want to make amends. You may consult with her on your own time." You look at him again, stiff as the stone he's perched on. "Tell me a way you could have handled the situation you got yourself into without using lethal force against subordinates, soldier."
Your brow furrows. So this isn't about stealing his revenge? Or about killing above your caste? Slowly, thinking it out as you go, you answer, "Given my current situational awareness and training, I don't believe I could have done, nor should I be trusted to do so for the near future, so... since you clearly value avoiding deaths... it would be best for me to avoid such situations. Or if I can't, have someone with me who's trained in nonlethal combat. I will begin training in nonlethal techniques myself as soon as I can find an instructor. But, sir... even with the best intentions, even in training, even in competition matches scored for points, people die. This is the military, sir. This is the Empire. I don't understand your philosophical stance, and if you want me to adhere to it, you will have to explain it to me in words. Preferably before I break your unwritten rules." There might have been a hint of resentfulness there. You rein it in. "I apologize, Captain. It's not my place to reprimand you."
"I'm sorry, I wasn't aware that no collateral damage needed further explication," you snap. "See, this is a phase I use to mean DON'T BLOODY WELL GO SWANNING ABOUT MURDERING YOUR FELLOW FUCKING FLEETMEMBERS WHEN YOU DECIDE YOU'RE BORED WITH PAPERWORK AND WANT TO PLAY JAEMES FUCKING BONDED." Ah, good, you're angry again. "This is the military, yes, thank you, but I should like to bring to your attention that this isn't some fucking campaign down planetside against a pack of murderous alien savages, and this certainly isn't a trollywood adventure flick starring Whatsisface Goddamn Kadros! What would you have even done if you managed to get the miserable flounder to implicate Admiral Wavebane right on camera? You think everyone doesn't already know?"
Your stomach goes cold. Of course. Of course everyone knows. Everybody but good old Bel Kadros, who somehow still hasn't managed to get rid of his childish desire to be some kind of hero. No point arguing that it's not exactly collateral damage when the guy was holding a gun to your head, or that punching someone in the face does not usually kill them, and it was pure unfortunate chance that you hit him just right to crack his skull. You let this ship's sloppy attitude get to you and forgot to think politically. You're the newcomer here, you shouldn't be taking initiative. "You're right, sir," you say robotically. "I behaved foolishly and above my station. It won't happen again."
"If it does, and I find you playing this sort of jolly little action game with the lives of subordinates-- anyone's subordinates--again, I am going to be extremely fucking disappointed in you. Dismissed. I'll see you in the office tomorrow and you can tell me how that's going."
"Understood, sir." You salute and march out. You go to your quarters and sit beside your lusus for ten or fifteen minutes, smoothing his feathers and letting him preen you. You don't say a word, and he doesn't make any querying sounds; he's long since learned that the times when you're most upset are the times when it's least advisable to show it. You can never assume you're alone, even if there wasn't a helmsman apparently watching and judging you every moment. Just being near your lusus is soothing, though, and helps you work up your courage to face the dead man's kismesis. Changing into fatigue pants and t-shirt, the closest thing you have to civvies, you return to Hardcase's ship. "I'm here to see Chief Petty Officer Perigi," you tell the officer on watch. "Personal, not official. There will be no repercussions if she refuses."
Perigi looks tired and worried, but her eyes are dry. She has fresh make-up, a clean new uniform, and a stack of tablets under one arm. "Did you talk to Captain Aspera, sir?" She asks. "Has a schedule for the interrogations been set? We're prepared to cooperate fully."
"I just handed him the incident report. No schedule on the interrogations yet; it turns out we might not need them. What I recorded with my body cam during dinner might be sufficient. Stand by and I'll keep you posted. No, this is, uh." You wish you were in your Marine uniform, that had a hat you could busy your hands with. "This is a personal visit, Chief Perigi. About Petty Officer Vespid. Would you, er, prefer to talk in private, or."
"Captain Aspera told me Vespid was your kismesis. I want to offer my sincere apology to you and to any other quadrant of his who's willing to hear it." You swallow, but keep yourself from looking away. "I only meant to knock him out. I was careless, and it cost him his life. I'm truly sorry."
"Vespid died in loyal service to his superiors. There can be no more honorable epitaph. I will relay your sentiments to his moirail." A bright poison flickers in her eyes for a moment. "He'd nearly saved up enough to buy her away from her mining station. Your apology should keep her warm enough, I expect." She looks at her tablets, composed again. "Will that be all, commander? There is still a lot yet to do tonight."
Her face is perfectly blank. Her eyes say fuck you in neon. "Not so much my own salary should prove insufficient to coordinate the aquisition," she says crisply. "I apologize for-- the irrelevant digression. Will that be all? Sir?"
"Yes, Chief Perigi, that's all." You return to your quarters. You sit with your lusus for a while longer. You wonder why you wanted to apologize. No one wants you to apologize. Well, except maybe Aspera, but he's a civilian playing 'navy'. Everyone else knows the primary purpose of every troll alive is to die as violently as possible, for the Empire or for their own aggressions. Not Captain Aspera, though, oh no. Not Captain Feral Idealist Aspera, who skipped his schoolfeeds and didn't get trained and has no idea what the Empire even is. Captain 'Only I Get To Do Violence' Aspera. Captain 'What is security? I just wait for jerks to hurt people and then I maim them' Aspera. You're rocked by a wave of cold loathing. Realizing you're letting yourself get worked up, you go splash cold water on your face, slap yourself a few times, and make yourself do a few push-ups. Then you jog the whole way back to the hydroponics area doubletime, because if Aspera isn't going to punish you, you're going to have to do it yourself; how else is the lesson going to sink in? You have to create an aversion. So you'll be doubletiming it everywhere until you've developed a reflexive 'nope' reaction to involving yourself in violent altercations. Since you've spent your entire life to date drilling yourself in the opposite lesson, this may take several sweeps, but it's not like you have anything better to do.
You meet Kadros the next evening bright and early, but of course he's preceeded you. He's got the sort of distantly angry focus a chap gets when they're punishing themself, which you appreciate. He's got a concience in there somewhere, he's just been wading through blood so long he's forgotten. A lot of the cases you're shipped are like that. He'll do alright. "Evening, Kadros," you say, pushing past into the kitchen. "How do you take your coffee?"
"Hot, ideally," you say absently, in the process of turning back to your paperwork. You came in an hour early all resolved to be cold and formal with him, but once columns of numbers had calmed you down a bit you realized that would just be childish sulking, and you'd do better to try to continue the amiable semi-casual relationship he initiated. "Used to take it with beastmilk and sugar, planetside; is that on offer, sir? But really, anything hot is fine, thank you." You turn a page back and forth and frown, then set the account book aside in the 'needs attention' pile. It's a mess, and you decided to get the easy stuff out of the way first.
"Hot! I'm fairly sure I can manage that," you call back, and busy yourself with preparing the pot. You have to pull rank too often just to cover the basics, so it's the same instant mix-up stuff everyone else gets issued, but your machine's in good repair and works quickly. Soon enough you're putting two mugs on a plate with the sugar bowl and a small cup of cream. You snag a packet of hot chocolate mix for yourself and have to hold it between your teeth to get it and the plate and the rest of the pot out the door. "K'ffthh," you announce, setting it down on the nearest table, then rip the chocolate packet from between your fangs and pour half into your mug. "If there's anything I actually appreciate about getting hauled up here it's the chocolate," you say. "And the caffeine. Gods all bless." You raise your mug in salute and take a sip, eyes closed, then give a soft little purr of satisfaction. "So," you say, refocusing. "Run me through what you've been up to, and then we're going to go and make dirt."
Your mouth tightens slightly at the idea that he wants to take you away from your paperwork to do a job anyone could do, but he seems to think it's important and has no idea how to delegate, and you've decided not to make waves just yet. "Yes sir," you say calmly, and sip your coffee. It's awful, but the warmth is nice, and since you're used to drinking awful coffee cold half the time, you appreciate it. "I located the most urgent paperwork items, such as payroll, and took care of those. Then I got to grips with sorting out requisitions. There's a lot of confusion in the system right now; I'm pretty sure if I can streamline it to eliminate some of the duplication and waste, we won't be nearly as badly underfunded."
Your eyebrows raise. "If you can manage that I will kiss you on the face, Kadros. Anything that'd narrow the gap between what we need and what we're shipped would be be an enormous help. "
