[IC] Cinnabar Forever! (RCN)

[Penny]

Island 19 on Herculaneum

“What,” Lieutenant Sabatine Hickoring observed, hands on hips, “an absolute shittin’ disaster.”

It was just about mid day on Herculaneum, a tropical world that served as the Republic of Cinabar Navy, or RCN’s principle base in the Rayleigh Stars. Like most worlds that served as major fleet bases, Herculaneum was largely ocean, it had several small continents but the jungles that covered them and the creatures that lived in those jungles were an effective deterrent to human colonization. Civilization, such as it was on Herculaneum, was centered around its numerous islands some of which were themselves fairly large, but much more manageable for the early colonists to clear and cultivate. Sprawling plantations produced rice and vegetable crops for domestic consumption and there was a degree of fishing for the large five finned calcini, a lifeform similar to but distinct from Terran fish, which was of good enough quality to be exported off planet. The locals even bragged it could be found on table in Xenos, though, frankly, Hickoring doubted it. If Herculaneum was anything, it was very, very far from Cinabar.

“I thought I was doing well just to save her,” Motorman First Class Gregor commented, sounding embarrassed and looking down at his shapeless sailors boots. The six riggers whom Sabatine had bought with her gave the man scornful looks though in truth Gregor had done rather well to save Commodore Welkins’ gig when the port plasma thruster had failed on re-entry. The surviving motor had been enough to bring her down intact, but ballistic control must have been a real bitch and no mistake. It was rather a shame that the Commodre had survived the controlled crash in Sabatine’s opinion, though she didn’t say that outloud. Welkins’ was an unpleasant man in his late middle years, chafing for his admirals pips. That was fine, even understandable, but he seemed to blame everyone right down to his engine wipers for the fact that he hadn’t yet been awarded that honor by Navy House. To hear his stewards tell it, the Commodore could reliably be heard raving about the conspiracy at Navy House whenever he was in his cups, which was, again by the stewards reports, most nights.

Sabtine sighed and put her hands on her hips, considering the situation before her. The admiral's gig had come down in the estuary of a small river on one of the outlying islands, a thousand kilometers from Port Sarento, the main naval base on Herculaneum. The gig, about the size of the barrel of a cement mixer with two large outriggers wassunk to its entry port in the mud. Herculaneum had no moon and the solar tides were slight, so the handbreadth of water currently sitting atop the mud and lapping against the steel hull was all they were likely to have to contend with. Unfortunately the mud itself, at least two meters of it was much more of a problem. The river itself was not very deep even at the center of its channel but it had a broad easturay that was fringed with strongly looking mangroves. Indeginous crustaceans, their shells glittering with blue from the copper in the water, skittered and clicked, some of the bolder ones scuttingly close to the mired gig to snatch chunks from the sea life the plasma thruster had broiled to death as Gregor brought her in with long bifurcated claws. The half burned meat and ion broiled mud did little to improve the scene.

With a long sigh Sabatine turned to face her crew, all of whom had lightered out here with her on one of the large surface effect transports that carried food from the plantation islands to the port at Sarento and returned with what rude goods and petty luxuries were required to make life liveable in remote places. She was a woman of middling size, lean and muscular from an active life spent running up and down the rigging of starships and crawling through maintenance access ports. While no one would consider her a beauty she was pretty enough to turn heads on the rare occasions she made an effort and there was a lively energy in her bright green eyes that many found appealing. She pulled off her bush cap and ran her fingers through her dark auburn hair which had been gathered into a tight bun to allow her to wear a rigging suit or commo helmet without difficulty.

“Alright spacers, any idea as to how we are going to unfuck this bitch?” she asked, hiking a thumb over her shoulder to indicate the stranded gig. With the exception of Gregor, all of the ten crewmen she had bought with her were riggers, the personnel who climbed the masts to set the sails that drove vessels through the infinite universes of the matrix. In theory the process was automated, but cables kinked and yards stuck with monotonous regularity and had to be cleared by hand. When a ship was in port, as now, riggers were of little use, except for as unskilled fetch and carry. The shipside crew, technicians and engineers handled most of the routine maintenance for which they had the specialized training. Riggers for whom work wasn’t found soon became a disciplinary problem largely because there was little they could be threatened with that was more unpleasant than the task of climbing the rigging in an alien universe where any step could mean spending the brief remainder of your life in a place never meant for humans, or any kind of life as humans understood it. Work like this was perfect for them, at least from the view of a captain who wanted to avoid a riot once his spacers had spent their pay advances in the brothels and dives on Harbor street in Sarento. They were a hard bitten lot standing in a lose clump underneath what shade a trio of Terran palms provided. Their uniform was the gray shapeless garments of spacers slops though they wore boots and several had rigging gloves on their belts. Behind them was a large diesel flatbed that they had rented from the locals for the duration, Sabatine overpaying with coin given to her from petty cash for the purpose of sourcing local equipment. There were several large totes of equipment stacked in the back, containing rigging cable, tools, and other sundries Sabatine had thought they might need for the job.

“I suppose lighting the main drive is out of the question,” bosun’s mate Klave, the senior enlisted man, asked with a snicker. Sabatine put her hands on her hips and opened her mouth to tell the man to shut it unless he had something serious to add but then an idea struck her. Gregor goggled in horror at what he saw as a junior officer about to make a terrible mistake. Blind obedience wasn’t something riggers were good at, and officers with ideas were legendarily bad luck.

“You can’t be seriously considering it! If, and it’s a big if, the thruster nozzle isn’t crumpled to junk, the mud clogging it will turn it into a bomb!” Gregor ejaculated. One of the other riggers, Danzetti, whacked the motorman over the back of the head.

“You just shut up and let mis Sibby think, right barge jockey?” Danzettii told the man. The blow hadn’t been aimed to injure Gregor but it obviously hurt and stunned the man into fretful silence.

“We can’t light the thruster no,” she mused, “but we could open the feedlines…” Plasma thrusters worked by pushing reaction mass, usually water through the reactor to be stripped of their electrons and ejected as ions to produce thrust. If they could turn off the reaction drivers though, it would just be high pressure water shooting out of the nozzles.

“How would that help?” Klave asked, not challenging her but curious as to what her plan was.

“Ever dug a hole with a garden hose?” she asked the bosuns mate. Klave looked blank for a moment and then his eyes brightened.

“Oh… oh!” he nodded with growing enthusiasm.

“Lets get some men over the other side and rig up a net of cabling as well, find something solid so we can get the winches going to help break the suction,” she ordered before turning back to the gig. It was still going to be a bitch of the job and take most of the rest of today and perhaps tomorrow as well, but it just might be possible to get the gig free before Commodore Welkins had an aneurysm.

[POOHEAD189]

"We're now live on the Kostroman assembly as Republican representatives hold council with the Kostroman delegates on changing the nature of the Reciprocity Agreement, due to ongoing pressure by the Alliance of Free Stars. Elector Vindicare, unhappy with recent trade negotiations now seeks to further the reach of Kostroman influence. Granting immu-"

Lieutenant Kaiden turned off the frequency, the radio onboard the RCS Grandwing Corvette so old it still gave a whine as it was shut off. Briskly he spun to present to his subordinates, two dozen men and women under his direct command, though only one of the three groups that had arrived on the ship to Herculaneum to integrate into Commodore Welkins squadron of ships. Under the command of Captain Harkin, Kaiden had been given free rein in how best to keep his cadets, ensigns, and spacers prepared.

The day began at 0500 where they performed light exercises led by Kaiden himself, before a hearty breakfast which was followed after by gun drills until noontime and lunch, where the platoon broke to eat for one hour, and for the next two hours they would do station runs and recite every damned emergency in the book to be crisp and ready at the sign of any trouble. At 1500 they were allowed their leave until they were directly called to be given any task that came up. That is until 1900 where they were given briefings on the Commodore's directives in case anything had changed within the past fourteen hours.

Just now it was lunchtime, and the Lieutenant had thought it best to let his subordinates listen to what exactly was occuring elsewhere in the galaxy. He didn't think anything ill would occur in his lifetime, but he'd be damned if he didn't drill them to perfection. It's what had been hammered into him and he would pass on that discipline to others. "As you can see, tensions are escalating." He exaggerated, strikingly dark blue eyes hard and set, traveling from soldier to soldier. "The only way to be prepared is to prepare. I fully expect tomorrow's drills to be a farcry from the bullshit I saw earlier. Is that clear?"

"Sir!" They said in unison.

"At any moment we can be called to action. Do not-"

Midshipman Otis approached him, holding up a communication for him. The dark haired Junior officer snapped to him, eyes blazing before he snapped the device out of the man's hands. Placing it to his ear, he blanched when he heard Captain Harkin's voice on the other end. Kaiden's visage stiffened, and then his eyes glazed over as the information that he and a handful of his cadets were being transferred to the RCS Viscount, another Corvette he had ironically done his ensignment on.

"You're not serious." Kaiden said, before he realized who he was speaking to. Somehow he never did quite get over talking down to others or forgetting his protocol when around superior officers. "Erm, sir. You're not serious, sir? Yes...yes sir. No sir, my apologies. Yes, of course. Yes...as you will. Thank you." He shoved the device back into the midshipman's hands with a look of distaste, turning to his portion of the crew who seemed both confused and amused at his sudden lack of composure.

"Ah, you lot seem to think something is funny? Very well then. Higgs, Randals, Enrique, Bushman, and Harwen, you're coming with me." He said, and then men and women blinked. Kaiden brushed a hand through his stark black hair, tied behind his neck in a tail, a fashion used by most up and coming young officers. "We'll see how amused you are at being transferred. The rest of you, take lunch. You'll report to Captain Harkin directly until you get yourselves a new Liuetenant."

The trip to the Viscount was only an hour, as all the Corvettes had been docked on outlying islands in close proximity to one another. Unfortunately, it meant skipping lunch which made him even more irittable than usual. A part of him thought of that, but the greater part of him was dreading the dreadful meeting with Sabatine Hickoring.
@Penny

[Penny]

It was remarkable the distance there could be between stating an idea and executing it. Turning on the reaction mass pumps without the igniters had seemed like an easy solution to the problem. Unfortunately it rather ignored the reality of opening up the powerplant compartment of the gig which, due to the torque of the crash, required the use of the diamond bladed rotary saw they had brought with them, as well as three stout spacers heaving on pry bars. Once she was in Sabatine had discovered that the control unit for number two motor had been crushed and had been forced to remove it, replace it with the undamaged unit from the failed number one thruster and fire it that way. That action had nearly brought a smile of self congratulations to Motorman Gregor as she hadn't realized that the igniter circuit and the reaction mass pump circuit were integrated and she had come within a hairs breath of lighting the plasma thruster while it was clogged with enough mud to transform it into a moderately sized bomb. Having averted that problem she had to deliberately break the inducer rig and then cross wire it so it reported to the system that it was still operational. The two years she had spent working maintenance ot Harbor 3 were paying off in spades, but she was still covered in sweat by the time the pump reluctantly stuttered to life and started pushing water through the system. The task was made no more pleasant by the lack of environmental controls and an outside temperature that was creeping towards 40 degrees Celsius.

Emerging from the gigs dorsal hatch and wiping the sweat from her face with her hat Sabatine looked down at the work her detail had conducted while she had been playing amateur mechanic. All of the spacers were filthy and covered with mud, having stripped to the waist and laboriously worked cables of woven beryllium mono-crystal underneath the gigs curved hull. The process had been accomplished at first by digging with entrenching tools, furiously scooping out water long enough to force the cable down and drag it through the mud by main force. As the afternoon had worn on however, locals, more curious than helpful but helpful also had shown up. While their main preoccupation seemed to be hawking fried food of various kinds as well as the local bush beer, one helpful man had donated a pump to the project. It was evidently a bilge pump of some description and launched a plume of muddy water into the air twenty meters in height as its diesel motor chugged to keep the improvised sluice dry. The whole affair had something of a carnival atmosphere to it as the locals gawped at the Cinnabars while others began cooking meat on portable grill units and generally enjoying the afternoon. Well there was nothing in Naval Regulations to prevent them from watching if they wanted to.

Sabatine might have scolded Klave about letting the men have beer. They were on duty and if Welkins heard about it there was no chance it would resound well on her. Still it was perishing hot and the men were filthy and miserable enough without depriving them of a little pleasure. Klave looked up at her and grinned sheepishly, as though sensing her imperial displeasure.

"Here you go ma'am," he called tossing her up an aluminum can still dripping from the half melted ice bath it lay in. She snatched the can and pulled the cap drinking it in great gulping mouthfuls. The cool liquid felt heavenly and she supposed that Klave had at least kept hard liquor from the men and, by the gods, this was thirsty work. Finishing the can in one long pull she paused to look at the can. It was of local manufacture and had what might have been some sort of mythical sea monster stenciled on the side. Snorting she crushed the can and tossed it back down to Klave who tossed her up another. Rather than opening it she tucked it into a pocket in her now sweat drenched uniform.

"How are we looking? she called gesturing down to the seven cables that had been passed under the hull. The shimmering lengths of monocrystal ran to a winch on the truck on the populated side and to a rocky outcropping on the other side of the river. Mangrove trees had been cleared with cutting bars, the racked of which she had evidently missed whilst she had been up to her elbows in circuitry. The monocrystal would have smashed the trees flat anyway but it might have jolted the improvised cradle at a bad moment, and spacers got to be old spacers by avoiding taking risks where they could. The gods knew the risks they couldn't avoid were bad enough, but you didnt enlist in the RCN, or take a commission for that matter, if risk was a major concern.

"I don't think we could lift her," Klave opined gesturing to the truck. "It just dosen't have enough torque, but we should be able to break her loose if you can give us some wiggle room." Sabatine considered it, wondering if there might be heavy earth moving equipment on the island they could requisition. Well they could explore that option if this didn't work.

"Alright, we will try it," she decided, raising her voice so all the spacers in the detachment could hear her and not just Klave. Spacers liked to know what was going on, and it was easier to explain to everyone rather than have someone screw up because they had been caught flat footed.

"Alright, everyone stand clear, Klave you spot on this bank," she turned to look over her shoulder at the far side of the river where Danzetti and Hogartern were peering across at her.

"Danzetti, get your commo helmet and spot from that side, if the cable starts to tangle or slide let us know asap got it," she shouted, before nodding to his answering affirmative. Cramming her own commo helmet onto her head she dropped back into the clamy interior of the gig, hoping up to the pilots console and taking a seat. She didn't strap herself in, if this went wrong and she sank the Commodore's gig to the bottom of the river, she was at least going to survive to be taken to task for it.

"Squad," she said, the helmet's AI queuing her transmission to the detachment with her, "Everyone clear?"

"All clear Ma'am," Klave's voice sounded in her ear piece.

"Roger that, commencing manuever," she replied. It wasn't really a maneuver but stars above it wasn't like the RCN had nomenclature for 'digging ship out of mud hole.' With her right hand she bought up a feed control panel then with her dominant left hand she qued up the attitude control screen. That was wishful thinking on her part, it was long odds that the thruster would be able to gimble even once it was water rather than mud that bound it, but hope sprang eternal. With a flick of a switch she engaged the pumps and there began a deep arrhythmic thumbing that shock the ship, rattling the fittings. For a few seconds the thrumming grew more and more insistent until there was a sudden gurgling boom as the built up water pressure blew several hundred kilos of mud from the thruster nozzle. She could hear the screams of shock outside for a second or two before a muddy rain splattered down over the view port obscuring it. Instinctively she backed the feed a hair and then quickly remoted in the views from both Klave and Danzetti's commo helmets. Mercifully both men were actually wearing them as directed and she could get a sense of what was going on. Great rolling waves of mud were bubbling around the hull of the gig as the nozzle blasted water out at fire hose pressure, scouring away the sucking mud beneath. Experimentally she touched the attitude control and, to her delight, felt the thruster gimble. That wouldn't last long of course, the mechanism was designed to work in space and atmosphere and mud and grit would grind the hydraulics to scrap in minutes, but it couldn't be helped.

"Ok, fire up the winch!" she shouted, instinctively raising her voice despite the fact the commo helmet would broadcast at an audible level on the reviving end even if she were in a firefight. There was a grinding chug as the cables began to take up the slack. With slow arcs, Sabatine began to work the thruster back and forth, angling it slightly towards the channel of the river. The deck canted greasily as the cables pulled taught as she continued to sycthe with her thruster, a great grey plume extending from the hull into the center of the river as she cut away the mud bank with the pressurized fluid.

"Come on you pox bitch," Sabatine muttered and, as if in response, there was a sudden grinding slosh. The cables suddenly taught as the suction holding the gig in place broke. Sabatine suddenly realized she should have attached a bow line to drag the gig out into the channel but it was too late for such second guessing now. Next time she had to rescue a Commodores private transport from a mud bank she would be better prepared.

"Stand clear!" she called, even though she had already ordered everyone out of the water.

"I want you to drop tension on my mark," she added.

"Ready Ma'am," Klave's voice came back, confused but obident.

"Three, two, one, mark!" An instant before the cables when slack she shoved the thruster full to the rear and opened the gates, pouring water through at the maximum rate of the pumps. The gig poggoed forward, ground for a moment on the remnants of the destroyed mudbank and then slid into the river channel under neutral buoyancy. The crowd behind her cheered even as a vast plume of water burst from the rear of the craft to soak all and sundry with muck. With a smile of satisfaction Sabatine powered down the feed pumps and then climbed out of the seat and back up onto the hull. Klave and Danzetti were already on the banks to either side of her, each of them tossed her a line which she expertly snagged around a stantion to lock the gig into its new anchorage. Muddy spacers grinned at her from the beach as did several dozen filthy, but happy looking wogs.

"Three cheers for the LT!" Klave called and she was treated to several hurrah's from the assembled crowd. Sabatine allowed herself a satisfied smile and then took the beer from her filthy vest and cracked it open. Commodore Welkins would probably still bitch about the condition of his gig, especially now she had rained filthy river water into its open hatches, but that problem could wait. A hard task had been managed in only a few hours and there was nothing at all that could ruin that.

[POOHEAD189]

The aircar was spacious, able to seat a dozen personnel if the need arose. Luckily they weren't tightly fit and Kaiden sat at the fore next to the driver, a man in a standard helmet and dark glasses that he'd seen once or twice transporting officers or goods across the planet. To say he felt trepidation was an understatement, and he did his best to lose himself in the notably beautiful islands passing under them. The sun was hot and bright, making the water look like liquid crystal from this altitude.

He had brought with him Bosun Higgs, a squat man with a penchant for chewing tobacco no matter how many times Kaiden had reprimanded him for it. Ensign Bushman, an ambitious man as old as Kaiden but not as successful, though the prince never suspected any treachery from him due to his old fashioned nature. Along with them were reliable cadet Enrique, and spacer/mates Randals and Harwen who were apparently friends off duty from before the service.

None seemed particularly happy to be here save Higgs who likely didn't care where he was, and Randals who seemed to always make the best of every situation and find the humor in things. The other three likely didn't wish to have to learn more names or get comfortable with other quarters, and Kaiden couldn't rightly blame them. He was brought out of his train of thought as a gust of wind gave the aircar a bit of turbulence.

"So what do you think the going rate of one of these islands are?" Randals asked, trying to peek over his fellow militarymen to view the window. It was a silly question, but the man often asked silly things half facetiously to either begin a discussion or a joke. It could be amusing, Kaiden thought. He wasn't so jaded as to not appreciate the men serving under him. Harwen looked positively bored gazing into the blue nothingness of the scene below. If Kaiden remembered correctly, he was very learned in finance, but that in turn led him to be a bit benumbed on the current economy of the Cinnibar Republic.

"Probably a lot." Spacer Harwen said tiredly.

"Even on a backwater planet like this one?" Randals asked.

"Herculaneum's in the middle of nowhere but a lot of rich people get homes here. The prices began to rise around a century ago, and I think they've been steadily going up since." The mate replied. "You'd probably need to find someone desperate for money and do a background check on the family to see if they'd be willing to sell at a lower price. But we'd never be rich enough to buy one even then."

As the two conversed, Kaiden recalled that it was for that reason the planet had even a modicum of defenses. No large anti-orbital missile batteries, but a few small streakers to help harass enemy landing craft if need be. Many of the privately owned resorts and industry buildings had local defense systems and anti-air batteries. What he was most impressed with were the orbital minefields set and ready to deploy above them. Only ones with the right coordinates could get past them without priming the explosives, and only a very few people knew them. Their existence was even speculated upon, with Kaiden being on the lowest rung of officer to even be aware of such preparations. They had only been deployed and set the last two years by Commodore Wilken's orders.

They began to descend, much like Kaiden's stomach as the pilot told them they were five minutes away from the RCS Vicount and it's station island. Kaiden got a good look at it as the aircar turned, and he could see it was a star shaped island with five points, with a vast landing pad at its center where the Corvette was station, just beside a basic compound that had the trappings of leisure, though he knew as much as the rest of them that it was likely for show.

"Think we'll get better beds?" Enrique asked. He always seemed to be the one that voiced his dreams for a life after the service, and somehow that made him work all the harder (when needed to).

"Doubtful. It was probably bought off some aristocrat and fashioned to be just like home for us." Kaiden grinned, suddenly happy that the base looked large enough to lose himself in. His good mood was shattered when the aircar dropped down at a small pad off to the eastern coast, just beside what looked to be a broken down gig, to which to Kaiden's horror he recognized it as Commodore Wilken's, with his crest upon the bow of it. Kaiden shook his head, seeing the men and what looked to be a woman covered in grease and mud and celebrating. "How did it get like that?"

"Looks like these fellas fixed it up." Higgs all but grunted, and looking once again the Bosun was right as usual. The aircar wobbled into what felt like a 'plop' and the light turned on that it was safe to exit the vehicle. Kaiden and his men stepped out into the open sun, and the Prince called to the mates who'd fixed it with an easy grin. "Looks like you lot made the best of a shit situation," He told them heartily, walking up to inspect the work. The sun was in his eyes, and he couldn't quite see the fellow's faces as he approached. "Just give it a small shine to it and the Commodore will be none the wiser-"

One of the lads, a slim and rather attractive man he noted, turned and looked at him. They had their long hair in a messy bun and they looked to have gotten the worst of the grime from jerry-rigging the machine back to health. As his eyes got used to the sun and the mud dripped from the soldier's face, he recognized Sabatine almost immediately, and his grin disappeared to be replaced by a look that seemed both tired and tense all at once. "Eh fuck." He breathed.
@Penny

[Penny]

Even after they had freed the gig it had been a massive undertaking to get the thing back to Sarento. Sabatine and her detachment had spent the night on the unnamed island and in the morning had commandeered the surface effect transport to ship the gig back to the base. Both plasma thrusters had been irreparably damaged in the crash and in digging the thing out of the mud bank and nothing short of a drydock rebuilt was going to make them serviceable. The captain of the freighter had not been best pleased to have his vessel repurposed in such a fashion but a handful of florins and the not so subtle hint of a dozen spacers looking bored and menacing had convinced him of the need to do his duty to the Republic. The had just minutes ago landed the gig and were about to turn the whole mess over to the base establishment when a circling aircar, an RCN vehicle by virtue of the fact that civilian air cars were prohibited on Sarento on pain of shoot down, a right the RCN had famously exercised a few years ago, subsequently quelling the locals enthusiasm for aviation.

It wasn’t until the officer in command of the small party called out to them that she recognized Kaiden Caladwarden. Her face froze in a set expression and the spacers around her tensed, hands going for weapons concealed in their slops without fully understanding what had startled their usual unflappable Lieutenant. After a moment, everyone relaxed, the vast majority of officers in the RCN were of the Cinnabar aristocracy, and that was a small enough club that officers with difficult pasts, political and personal were bound to run into each other sooner or later. Still Sabatine had hoped never to run into Kaiden again. She hadn’t seen him since that night, the last year in the academy when their six month long relationship had imploded messily in a screaming match that had woken the barracks provosts and nearly ended in a reprimand for both of them. One of Sabatine’s friends had dared her to break into Kaiden’s personal files. It had been a lark not really meant to be taken seriously but having already had rather more brandy then was wise Sabatine had agreed. She had uncovered evidence, messages sent and received of another woman, an aristocrat named Monika Rolfe who was one of the Clients of the Caladwrden family. Kaiden had admitted it when she confronted him, telling her that it had been early in the relationship and they had both been very drunk, he had brushed the girl of as politely as he could after the fact. Sabatine had not taken it well and had made the information public, arousing a minor scandal that might well have resulted in a duel if both the patair famili hadn’t quashed the matter in no uncertain terms. She hadn’t seen nor spoken to Kaiden since. Worse, although they had been in the same year, his name, first alphabetically, meant that he outranked her on date of commission. What in the Hells was he doing here? Sabatine did her best to smooth the grimace off her face and stiffened to attention, a comical site with her clothes caked in sweat and mud and her the cleanest of her men. The spacers, filthy and disheveled as she also stiffened to a posture of attention that would have given an academy drill instructor a stroke.

“Lieutenant Caladwarden,” she said formally, doing her best not to snap. She felt her skin prickle with the shock of adrenaline, it made her feel cold and her voice, already cold chilled by degrees.

“We recovered the Commodore’s gig from a crash on Islet 14 sir,” she told him stiffly.

[POOHEAD189]

It was a small mercy that the men around them were none-the-wiser to Sabatine and his past relationship, or the embarrassment he received from her throwing caution to the wind in a fit of rage and telling everyone who would listen that he was an unfaithful bastard. That was one of the major reasons he had been so loose with women since, never having a steady girlfriend. If any found out, they might break his heart in the same way and call him what any officer hated to be accused of.

Disloyalty.

Only Higgs and Enrique seemed to note she knew his name already, but they were wise enough to keep their mouths shut. They only glanced at him questioningly to find him staring daggers at her. Kaiden was very good at being professional and an asshole at the same time, though he tried to quell the latter, particularly in front of the men. "Lieutenant Hickoring, good work. I see you're still as active as ever. You look well, save for-" He looked at the mud caked around her. "-the trappings of your station."

He ignored her glare, taking note of the gig. He had been satisfied with it earlier but something about the whole situation seemed displeasing to him. "I'm certain the Commodore will be enjoying the fact he can cruise as he wills. However, I'm certain there's more pressing issues to attend to." He said marked by an odious tone. He could not wait for this 'scare' with the Alliance to be at an end so he could go back to anywhere else, and she could live her life here or wherever in the hells she wanted to.

Still, he glanced away for a moment and chastised himself. He might have left on a pitiless and enraged note but she didn't deserve his haughtiness in front of men. Or did she? He'd figure it out later, for now he needed to get back to business. "Myself and these fine men have been transferred here on the Commodore's orders. When will the Commodore be arriving?"
@Penny

[Penny]

"Sir," Sabatine responded, a placeholder to give herself a moment to think rather than a response to his question. Just because he had been stationed here didn't mean he had been stationed to the Vickie, as the Vicount was colloquially known. That was self delusion, ever since Lieutenant Harrington, their previous second officer, had lost his leg when a main mast yard had fractured on extraction there had been an open berth aboard. Sabatine herself had been filling the slot with one of the midshipmen had been filling her slot. In her heart of hearts she had hoped to keep it, but there was a war on, or their might soon be. That was the way of the RCN, officers went where they were assigned, but did it have to be THIS officer? Her mind returned to the question she had been asked by a superior officer. Fortunately in the six months she had been on Herculaneum station she had taken the time to get the various communications feeds hooked up to her helmet interface with filters that routed information she though she ought to know about. That automated system had pinged her a few minutes before the transport had reached the base, informing her that the Trash Heap, mine tender TH-15, had detected the Commodore's ship dropping out of the Matrix about a hundred million miles out.

"Sir Commodore Welkins is returning from Marengo with the Caddy, err that is the Cadbury Sir," she told him in a voice that was all but a hiss for its total lack of accent. The Cadbury was an aging light cruiser of the old Agesilaus class, hardly front line in RCN service these days but a formidable vessel in this remote corner of the galaxy. There had been an uprising of some kind on the world of Marengo, the local politics were murky, but Welkins had though that an RCN cruiser in orbit might damp down the locals enthusiasm for the massacre of Cinnabar traders and other such normal accompaniments to energetic political change. Having visited the worlds during the Vickie's patrol loop more than once, she rather hoped the Commodore had felt inspired to blast the place with plasma cannon before returning. A hundred million miles wasn't good astrogation and the Commodore would certainly be in a bad mood about it.

"He should be entering orbit any time now..." as though summoned by her words the deep spine rattling rumble of a starship descending on its plasma thrusters began to vibrated through the atmosphere. None of the spacers looked up, aware from long training that the plasma exhaust of a starship could cause serious eye damage if not viewed with the proper equipment.

"What ship are you assigned to sir?" she asked, hoping against hope that he would answer with the name of one of the two gun sloops, or perhaps Grandwing, though the latter didn't seem likely.

[POOHEAD189]

Kaiden attempted to be nothing if not well informed. He had not been privvy to the Commodore's whereabouts, but he was well acquainted with the Marengo debacle. One of the delegates of the planetary assembly had made an aggressive move on the local stock market, having bought out over half of the forest planets timber production plants in an attempt to fluctuate prices to suit his bid for chancellor. The acting chancellor responded with increased tariffs, and the average man and woman were caught in the middle. Marengo was soon embroiled in riots and Cinnabar hostages were taken, though Kaiden would not have guessed it was a worrying enough proposition to bring in the Commodore himself or a full blown cruiser.

"I've been assigned to the Vicount, as have my men." He told her, wondering if she had the same misfortune of sharing a ship with him.

As if on cue, the Cadbury arrived just as Sabatine was informing the prince on matters, setting down 100 meters away to the north on one of the much larger hanger areas. Once the ulti-thrusters were into play, causing a gust of wind to flow over the immediate landscape, they all knew it was safe to look just as the ship was landing. Kaiden turned northward, hands behind his back and face as neutral as he could manage (and again, he was quite good at it).

The Commodore, an easily recognizable man to anyone in this section of the military, was the first to step off the Cadbury, followed by his aids and what looked to be a amanuensis penning a memoir. Behind them, column after column of crew and soldiers filed out, and from the base a cadre of what looked to be spacer crew members outfitted for engineering/janitorial work hussled over to the aging vessel, likely needing as much constant attention these days as ever.

The Commodore was around thirty years Kiaden's senior, and while he wasn't large or overly imposing, there was an experience to him that made him formidable. He wasn't unhandsome either, his chin covered by a salt and pepper goatee, and he had iron eyes the color of the scratch marks on the Cadbury. Everyone saluted when he was within twenty meters of his gig, and he seemed none too pleased with the grime atop it.

"Who is responsible for this?" He asked once he eyed his mud-caked gig, and before anyone else could answer (particularly Motorman First Class Gregor), Sabatine stepped forward stiffly, steely eyed. "Sir, I am." She declared, and his iron gaze fell upon her form. For a moment Kaiden wondered if he had arrived just in time to see Sabatine's demotion, but after a few seconds the Commodore softened and even gave a smirk. "Thank you for saving my gig, Lieutenant. You and your men will be compensated with an extra bottle of your choice tonight."

Kaiden felt relieved, and then he questioned why that was? He wanted her gone, dammit! "Sir, may I ask-" The prince began, but the Commodore made a cutting motion with his hand and he spun on him. "Ah, you must be first lieutenant Caladwarden. I see there isn't an ounce of mud on your pristine suit, nor on any of your men's. I suppose you convenient got here just in time to attempt to take some glory, eh? Be silent." The ranking officer approached, sizing Kaiden up. "I called you here because you have an exemplary record on paper and at the behest of Captain Harkin's recommendation. However, your family's name has no sway over me or my fleet, and if I catch any foul play or scandal that has your scent on it, you'll be scrubbing the boots of my midshipmen before you know it, is that understood?"

Kaiden did his best not to blink. "Aye, sir."
@Penny

[Penny]

Welkins fixed Kaiden with a weltering glare. He was, by all accounts, a man of mercurial moods who demanded exacting performance from the officers under him. He also had famously little patience for the aristocracy. In Cinnibar society, and the RCN more particularly, advancement was often more a mater of interest than of skill or talent. That didn't mean that the RCN was full of incompetents, the academy weeded most of those out and space travel was far to dangerous an occupation for fools to survive long even if they did make it, but it did mean that those officers who advanced fastest tended to be those whose families or networks were in a position to do favors for others. No Captain wanted his name attached to a fool or a coward though which prevented outright nepotism and the accompanying disastrous results. Interest also meant that those who came to the RCN from more unconventional routes, middle class families or masters who won commissions for services rendered, often struggled to advance. The only option in that case was to impress your commanders sufficiently that they felt your performance reflected well on them, in turn you could do favors for others and slowly build interest of your own. Welkins had been a master gunner before he had been jumped to midshipman during one of the previous wars with the Alliance. He had risen high in the RCN but his progress had been slow, and though he would probably die an admiral it didn't stop him from resenting wealthier better connected fellows who seemed to fly up through the ranks. Sabatine herself did not have much in the way of interest, her brothers and sisters did what they could and clients of the family were still happy to do what they could despite the fact that her older brother made it clear that his younger siblings could starve for all he cared. It wasn't perhaps a fair system, but the universe wasn't fair and this system had preserved the RCN and the Republic for over three centuries and it was difficult to argue with its results. After a long moment Welkins turned from Kaiden and back to Sabatine.

"See that the good Lieutenant here is introduced to Captain Micha. Give him my compliments and he and all his officers are to dine with me tonight at the Armory," Welkins instructed, giving Sabatine a long glance.

"Though if you don't mind some advice Lieutenant, consider a shower first."

The walk to the Vicount was conducted in tense silence. The spacers, picking up on the chill between the officer, forwent their normal banter and followed along. RCS Vicount sat in one of the five artificial embayments which had been constructed by sending pilings of concrete out into ocean. The embayments were not necessary for fear of tides, Herculaneum lacking a moon, but they mounted gantries and cranes to ease in the loading supplies and munitions onto vessels in harbor. The Vickie was a cylindrical metal tube about eighty meters long from stem to stern slightly tapered and rounded at bow and stern. Three rings were spaced more or less evenly around her, to which the masts and rigging were attacked, although the rig was down when the ship was planet side. Two outrigger pontoons flanked her, each connected by four oleo struts. The pontoons actually mounted the high drive motors which would power the ship while it was in space, though theses were secure in their fairings for the moment. A quarter of the way-along the length of the ship was a metal bulge that concealed her twin eight inch plasma cannons, again secured while in port. There was a second set of guns the same distance from her stern so they could be fired in syncopation without tearing the ship apart, but those were underwater at present. Though the guns were devastating at close range, their primary purpose was defensive, intended to nudge incoming missiles away from the hull as they closed. Missiles were the real killers in any fleet action, large masses of metal propelled by twin high drive units till they reached burn out and separated into three segments to spread the foot print. The missiles were unguided beyond their intial launch trajectories, as any electronics capable of making course corrections at 0.6 light speed would require the same amount of engery again to alter their courses and make them trivially vulnerable to plasma cannon fire. The Vickie had two missile tubes, one shuttered and one open for maintenance at the moment. Techs could be seen crawling in the tube as they inspected its inner workings. Larger ships, like the Caddy, had eight tubes and could volley every two minutes or so. A battleship of the RCN Celcius class could mount up to sixty tubes and level a ship killing fusillade that would be all but impossible for any single ship to avoid. Even so a single missile hit from the Vickie could gut a battleship as tons of steal sublimated into energy at the incredible speeds of a full speed impact.

"I'll let you report to Captain Micha sir," Sabatine said as they walked up the gangway and into the ship. Two spacers stood the picket, each had a slung sub machine gun though it was doubtful they knew more than which end to point at the enemy. One of them, Sabatine noted, wasn't even loaded. That actually made her feel better as it decreased her chances of death when the sailor dropped the weapon in his haste to jump up when he saw officers approaching.

"Ma'am... Sir," the spacer stammered, hastily sweeping a dice game away beneath a crate. Though the man recognized Sabatine, Kaiden was new to him.

"Carry on Howarth," Sabatine told him. Officially she was the senior ships officer present until Kaiden read his orders to Captain Micha. Howarth looked at the filthy shore party with some amusement, though he mostly kept it from his face.

"Where is the Captain currently Howarth?" Sabatine asked. The man shared a glance with his mate before responding.

"He uhh, should be on the bridge ma'am, I believe he is teaching the middies about... something at present," Howarth informed her.

"Very good spacer," she told him and turned to Kaiden.

"You'll find the captain on the bridge sir," she said in the same cooly neutral tone.

"If you've no objections I'm going to avail myself of that shower the Commodore suggested."

[POOHEAD189]

"Howarth," Kaiden breathed silently, keeping his voice down. He often repeated names he wished to remember, which means he would have a lot of repeating to do the next day or two. He watched the man leave, which left him standing there uncomfortably with Sabatine. She turned to him and asked for a shower in the silence. Briefly he recalled when she had made a similar request in their relationship, only she had meant they should share one. How things change with time, he told himself.

"Far be it from me to stop you Lieutenant." He told her, though before she left he stepped forward and halted her from leaving just yet with a word. "Oh and Lieutenant," He said, looking at her. His eyes were as striking as ever, hard and blue like sapphires. "I'm not here to make your life difficult. I didn't ask to be transferred here. However, I am here and that means we'll be working together. I suggest we do what we need for each other without complaint so things will go as smooth as possible until this war-mongering is over and I am taken back to my original station so we don't need to suffer one another anymore. I trust you see the wisdom in that."

With that he dismissed her with a curt gesture, and then stalked away toward the bridge. He pushed thoughts of Sabatine or of what he just said out of his mind. Lord knows one gets obsessive when it comes to people who rankled them or what they say in such situations. Instead he focused on what lay ahead, which for now was examining the ship as he made his way through the halls. Kaiden Caladwarden knew his way around any Corvette, but even so there were arrows painted along the walls for any newcomer to follow.

The bridge was pleasantly advanced and well cleaned, with a raised platform at its center where the Captain could turn and view any of the monitors his shipmen and communications officers were stationed at. At this moment there was a skeleton crew. A pretty young woman and two plain looking fellows were at the front consoles, keeping eyes on the ships support systems and sensors for the immediate area. The Captain himself was on the central platform, standing in his long officer's coat and regalia. Kaiden was impressed at the medals he had on his chest.

"Ah, you must be the new Lieutenant Harkin has told me so much about." Captain Micha said, giving a friendly smile. He was a man of standard height and grey eyes, with a carefully shaved head. He beckoned Kaiden to enter, and the prince did so with a pleased look. Perhaps surviving under this Captain wouldn't be as poor as he initially had dreaded. "Aye sir, junior Lieutenant Kaiden Caladwarden at your service. I am merely checking in with you, Captain."

"So, you're really a Caladwarden pup?" He marveled. Kaiden should be used to it by now, but such acknowledgements usually irked him. The only times he enjoyed being recognized by his family name was to lay flat other highborns by declaring his own family's dominance or picking up lovely young women, and the Captain was neither. Still, he seemed a pleasant enough fellow marvelling at the name. Micha continued. "I heard of a young Caladwardem joining our ranks a few years ago. Got into some scandal involving his father. That wasn't you, was it?"

"I am afraid it was, sir." Kaiden replied, making his way to stand beside him. Perhaps one day he could be a Captain. It felt natural being up here, watching all that one might survey to command the ship. "As of now I try to further myself through victory rather than any more underhanded ways. I know many other noble sons blackmail and resort to bribery."

Micha laughed at his forthright manner. "I will be watching your career with interest, though hold no illusions Liuetenant, I am at the helm of this ship."
@Penny

[Penny]

Sabatine let the water sluice over her in one of the small shower units in the communal bathing area. Given the size limitations of a starship, the space could be struck down to a mess in a matter of minutes, allow a watch to eat and then be converted back to showers just as quickly. That wouldn't be necessary while they were in an RCN base and there were barracks and showers ashore and most spacers preferred to spend their pay to eat at restaurants, or more frequently bars, along the strip. Once their money ran out they would be back aboard for the packet rations the RCN provided, though it was rare that a ship stayed in port that long. She thought about Kaiden's words as the water sluiced over her naked body. He hadn't asked for this, probably hadn't at any rate, any more than she did and there seemed little to be gained by perpetuating a fued that had been over for years. Still the memories of his treachery strung her even now, RCN officers didn't marry if they knew what was good for them, not before attaining the rank of Captain at least and she wouldn't have been of a social match for Kaiden anyway. Perhaps it was the realization that despite what she had thought they shared, she had been just another in a long line of women to him. The embarrassment at her own actions only served to inflame the situation, even if she couldn't fully admit it. She turned the shower off and stood dripping for several long seconds before roughly toweling herself off. Byron, the mess steward, a power room tech who took extra coin from the officers in exchange for performing the duty of manservant had whisked away her dirty uniform to be laundered and laid her second best second class uniform, dress grays. She really would have preferred the gray on gray battledress of her third class uniform but she hadn't left instructions and this was perfectly proper. Pulling on the uniform she stood under the heated dryer for a minute while running a brush through her hair. She normally wouldn't have washed it but if they were to dine with Commodore this evening it meant she would eventually need to change into her whites and she couldn't very well ruin those with muddy hair. Struck by the thought she touched her lapel mic.

"Byron, this is ....," she stumbled knowing her designation was about to change and then went with a name instead, "Hickoring. Lay out my dress whites for me will you. Also better let ... uh the new boson that just came aboard with the new XO, I didn't catch the name, let her know to ready an escort of four mostly sober spacers to escort us to dinner tonight."

"Ma'am," came Byron's terse response, obviously not best pleased at having to lay out another uniform after already having done so even though dinner was a couple of hours away. It might have been polite to suggest that he lay out Caladwardem's uniform also, but as she doubted he had unpacked yet, and he hadn't yet come to an arrangement with Byron it wouldn't have been proper for her to ask in any case. Servants, even hired ones like Byron, were sensitive of their rights in Cinnabar society, and for all she knew Kaiden had bought a servant of his own, it would be his style, and she didn't want to infringe on THAT servant's right and prerogatives either. Besides if he had to scramble for a uniform at the last second it would serve the prick right.

That pleasant though was cut of by her com bead.

"Five this is Howarth, there is a blonde haired piece down at the entryway that wants to come aboard," Howarth declared. His voice held a touch of... not panic, but uncertainty about what to do. What exactly a 'blonde haired piece' was doing at the gangway was an open question. Clearly this wasn't a naval officer or spacer of Howarth wouldn't have bothered to ask her for direction.

"Is she a civilian?" Sabatine asked, puzzled as to why anyone would be approaching the ship.

"Yes..er no, that is... I don't," Howarth stammered miserably. Sabatine sighed.

"ALright, hold what you got spacer, I'll be there soonest. Sabatine slipped on her boots and hustled down the companion way to C deck where the hold was located. Howarth and his mate were both on their feet now, neither held their weapons, a win for everyone, and both seemed to be talking animatedly to a striking woman in an expensive looking civilian dress suit in white and cream. She could see why Howarth had described her as a 'blonde haired piece' she was shapely and attractive and straispherically above the sort of doxy a spacer would find in one of the brothels on the strip. A lanyard with a pictograph embedded in hung around the woman neck. She turned at the sound of Sabatine's boots and Howarth and his mate straightened looking a little guilty.

"Ah Lieutenant is it?" the woman asked pleasantly.

"Yes, and misstress there are no civilian's permitted on the ship at this time," Sabatine told her coldly. The woman's eyes hardened slightly and it was then that Sabatine noticed the very small but expensive recording rig nestled around the woman's shoulders like an ermine fur.

"I'm Tilda Savari," the woman said smoothly, "I'm a reporter with the Sarento Gazette and I have every..." Her hand dipped towards her lanyard but Sabatine didn't let her finish.

"Mistress," she repeated a trifle more firmly, "No civilians on the ship, please get to the bottom of the boarding ramp." By now her tone had lost some of its neutrality, exhaustion and Kaiden's unwelcome intrusion into her life coloring her words with hostility.

"I am a member of the press and I..."

"Listen," Sabatine snapped, "I don't care if you have authorization the Senate and the Gods in assembly, I dont care if you are the Senate and Gods in assembly, if you don't get off this ship in the next ten seconds I'll have these spacers throw you down the gangway. That is the metal ramp you should be moving your ass down right now." Howarth and his mate stiffened. THey didn't look happy but there was no question they would obey such an order instantly if Sabatine gave one.

"Ok, ok!" the reporter squaked backing down the gangway with commendable ease. Sabatine uncharitably wished that the woman would fall into the slip but she managed the task with commendable ease.

"Just one quick question Lieutenant, was that Kaiden Caladwardem I just saw coming aboard what is such an eligble bachelor doing out here?"

"I'm not a liberty to discuss personnel assignments and neither is anyone else without Commodore Welkin's written permission," Sabatine snapped, eliciting a guilty wince from the two spacer on entry watch.

"Lieutenant I really must protest this is..."

"Engine's this is Five," she spoke, queing the link to the chief of ship, chief engineer Savachev.

"Go ahead Five," Savachev responded instantly.

"Run up the induction pump on starboard three will you?" she asked a split second later a powerful hydraulic pump roared to life drowning out the reporters shrill complaints. Sabatine gave the woman a jaunty salute and then turned and headed for the bridge.

"Unbefuckinglievable," she groused.

[POOHEAD189]

Kaiden had to endure another run in with the Commodore by this point, who explained to him for, what is it? The fifth time, perhaps, of how he would receive no special treatment on this rig. It truthfully enraged the young Lieutenant more than nearly anything else. He had never received special treatment from his birth in his life. It was why he loved the military, because he had to work for his position. Hell, the only time he'd received special treatment in the service was when he slept with his superior officer during his training as a cadet (before he met Sabatine), and all he received from that was the pick of the meals in the bloody messhall. His family was no exception. Certainly not his father, who used him as an extension of his own will.

By the mercy of the Gods he found the room he had been assigned, and after Harwen had received his equipment for him he unpacked his things, as little as he had. It was a spartan room as to be expected on a cruiser, but it suited him. As long as he could sleep comfortably he wouldn't complain. Among his possessions was a picture of his mother, and the officers' badge of his eldest brother. Both were deceased, and still it was hard to imagine living in a world with such a truth.

Kaiden was already dressed smartly, though it wouldn't hurt to iron his military jacket. It was times like these he missed Ferbose, his old servant back on the estate. Perhaps one day he could send an offer for hire, but at the moment he would make do without. He searched around the room, and with a relieved sigh he found the ironing board behind a cabinet. He opened it from the top, letting it slide down to touch on the floor gently.

He wondered what his father might think, seeing him do such a mundane activity as ironing a jacket. Halway through the chore, there was a knock at his door. Three knocks in quick succession indicating the newcomer was of inferior rank. He didn't turn around when he called "Come in!" Hoping to God it wasn't Sabatine. There was indeed a feminine gasp that accompanied the opening of the door, but it wasn't her voice thankfully. He turned from the ironing board to see one of the local spacers, a cute young woman with short, black hair and green eyes.

Kaiden wasn't indecent, wearing his white button down closed. But without his jacket and with his sleeves rolled up, he had the look of the romantic lead on the cover of one of the classic romance novels. She looked around, clearly not wanting to admit she had been the one to gasp even if there wasn't another human for about 60 meters. Clearing her throat, she saluted him. "Spacer Burke, sir. I've been commissioned by the Commodore to present you with your standard issue firearm."

In her offhand was a black box he took, and opened it to find the Mig 52 Sidearm he was expecting. He grinned openly, having awaited such an honor for four years. Finally, he felt as the ranking Lieutenant should. Placing the box near the photos of his family, he turned and gave the spacer a salute, who returned the gesture. "Thank you, Burke." He said to her. "You're dismissed. Oh and if you're impressed with me now, perhaps once my position here is secure I could make you gasp again after a few bottles of wine. Far louder I suspect."

She left the room with her face as red as a cherry, one part embarrassment, two parts shyness.

He didn't suspect he would ever make good on that offer, but it was fun to tease sometimes. Lord knows it was the only time he felt he had the control of any situation, at least recently.

[Penny]

Sabatine fidgeted in her dress uniform trying to get it to sit right. The uniform was brilliant white with gold at the seams and a saucer hat. As was traditional they wore decorations, which in Sabatine's case amounted to little more than a couple of colored ribbions for her previous postings and a pair of rifles crossed over a star, no larger than her thumbnail, that symbolized she had been on the academy rifle team. Not that Lieutenant Micha could boast much more the the way of fruit salad which, given the fact, he was a decade her senior in the service, must have been particularly galling. Though he bore the bars of his many posting, there were no citations for bravery or courage under fire, merely citations for good behavior and long and faithful service to the Republic. Sabatine had read his service history when she had been assigned to him, and the man had almost uncanny luck for avoiding action. It must have chafed him to have been denied the one thing that could trump any amount of interest, success in battle. She felt sympathy for him, but she dearly hoped that his unlucky streak would end so she would have a chance to prove herself.

They sat at dinner in the large open hall known as the Armory. The Armory had once been just that, a magazine in which anti ship missles had once been stored back in the days when Herculaneum had been a minor regional power. After the world 'accepted' the Friendship of the Republic and the base had been built, RCN planners had determined that the ammunition lockers needed to be situated below ground to prevent accident and attack. The resulting empty building had been converted into a function hall for the purposes of the RCN. Largely this was formal dinners like tonight, occasionally balls to which the local aristocracy, such as it was, were invited, and of course pay parades when ships came in from patrols. Large banners hung from the wall at regular intervals, stretching from the polished wood floor to the timbered ceiling in rippling walls of silk. Whether they represented actual battle honors, wog or RCN, Sabatine had no idea, but they did provide a convenient screen for the spacers who had been pressed into service as cooks and wait staff to operate behind without spoiling the tableau.

The table was set with white cloth and expensive looking, although probably fairly cheap silverware and laid out with laurel in proper RCN tradition. Unfortunately tradition also dictated that the officers were seated in strict and alternating order of rank, with the commodore at the head of the table, surrounded by the captains of the various ships, all the way down to the midshipmen at the foot of the table who were officers by courtesy and were expected to improve their social graces in silence. This meant that Sabatine was seated across from Kaiden, and thus required, by courtesy to interact with him. Cinnabar social etiquette required that business, in this case naval matters, not be discussed until after the main course had been served which robbed Sabatine of any topic in which she had any interest. Discussion of politics was faux pax as the RCN was required to remain above the partisan bickering of the Senate and she knew nothing of sports or current affairs back in Xenos that might fill up the idle minutes. The awkwardness began to grow acute as they were the only silent pair at the long table. There was a momentary relief as the waiters bought out the ox tail soup which formed the first course but eventually common courtesy and the notice of her neighbors compelled Sabatine to speak. Fortunately, she knew enough about Kaiden to pick an uncomfortable topic.

"Your father is in good health I trust Sir?" she asked sweetly.

[POOHEAD189]

Well the food wasn't too poor in quality. He'd gotten used to military cooking early in his career, and by the standards of his previous experiences, this was certainly adequate. What he found issue with was his seating arrangements. The two officers beside him were in the midst of their own conversations, and he and Sabatine seemed to have begun a private contest on who could keep quiet the longest. He didn't feel like much of a victor when she broke her silence.

He almost laughed out loud at her words. For a brief moment he knew she was giving the equivalent of a kidney shot and he almost admired it. But the good humor quickly fell away. Kaiden was arrogant enough to not bother with acting, but he decided to play along for now regardless. If she was going to be a bitch, he could be a right bastard.

"Last I checked he was doing wonderfully." Kaiden said, his fingers gliding over to his glass he'd filled with wine and downing half of its contents in a single gulp. He would have downed the entirety of it, but he didn't want to cause more of a scene as of yet. "It's so kind of you to ask. Which reminds me, when was the last time you spoke to brother? The oldest brother who got you into the navy. I know you were attached to the hip, given how much he used to dote on you."

Of course he used ambiguous wording, as 'sending' her in wasn't necessarily bankrolling her. But it was just vague enough to let her worry over others overhearing. "Have you tried the wine, by the way? It's sweet and tart in all of the best ways. I should have been transferred earlier."
@Penny

[Penny]

"It has been a while," she admitted acting as though she hadn't seen the jibe in the words.

"Of course we are poor west country folk, he doesn't have the wealth and position necessary to buy me my commission, I had to earn that myself," she rejoined with a very slight, and completely deniable emphasis on 'my' commission. The implication was clear enough. Though it wasn't exactly possible to buy ones way up in the RCN, wealth and position certainly accounted for alot.

"As for being transferred sooner, I'm amazed that you couldn't just snap your fingers and have it arranged," she added with a chuckle that all but dripped a good humor that was as bright as it was artificial. She covered a smirk with a sip of the wine. It was too cloying for her taste but she had drunk pure alcohol from the power room cut with water in the past and the experience had lowered her standards for booze considerably. Setting the wine down she tried a little more of the spicy soup, finding it pleasing. A small chime rang and spacers stepped forward and lifted away they soup bowls replacing them with small cups of mint liquor which served to cleanse the palette. Sabatine downed hers at once, as did a dozen other officers for whom wine didn't have enough of a kick.

[POOHEAD189]

Kaiden had finished his wine and decided to take a mug of what the others were having. He couldn't exactly remember who could drink more between he and Sabatine. He recalled that was a fun game between them and they usually passed out or made love before either could claim victory. He felt a ping in his chest and decide to shove that memory aside to enjoy, if one could call it that, the draught that had been provided. On the third sip he decided it wasn't so bad.

"Most would think so," He said with faux congeniality, swallowing the taste as best he could. He turned to the ensign next to him and nudged him with his elbow, giving him that winning smile that had people engage with him so often. The ensign laughed and they clacked mugs together as if they had won some great triumph. "Good stuff," He told the lad, who responded with "Better than one thinks. Good for two things, greasing engines and killing brain cells!"

"Very good," Kaiden said to him with a grin, regarding Sabatine once more. He should have had more of the soup, but right now the liquor would do fine. He did munch on some crackers they had provided. "So what have you been up to since we last saw each other?" He inquired, clearing his throat. He had to yawn, and despite his hammered in manners he decided to indulge himself. "You're still a Lieutenant, which is surprising."

He sipped his mug comfortably, his infuriatingly blue eyes watching her.
@Penny

[Penny]

Sabatine refrained from snorting which would have been unlady like. Few officers would make lieutenant commander before 30 and fewer still without a war to open slots both on new vessels and through casualties. She took the decanter and poured herself another generous measure of the minty liqour. It was probably vodka of some sort, though that was a fairly broad designation given to most vegetable alcohol rather than implying it was made from potatoes. She raised her glass.

"Well you know what they say, to a bloody war or a sickly season," her gaze making it clear whose slot she hoped either of those dooms would empty. she knocked back the alcohol just as Commodore Welkins stood and rapped his fork sharply against his glass several times in quick succession. The general buzz of combination quited save for one midshipmen, wearing an improbably number of commendations continued an animated description of what was either a space battle or an amorous encounter. One of his mortified fellows cuffed him over the back of the head to silence him to which Welkins nodded his approval.

"Fellow Spacers," he began, "as you have no doubt heard tensions with the Alliance are coming to a head." There were grumbles from the assembled officers, uniformly bellicose variations of let us at them. Welkin's smiled his eyes glinting like agates.

"We have been in the past twelve months, largely on a passive footing, lifting out to deal with crisis and incident as the develop." Welkins had the trick of making it seem like he was taking his officers into his confidence, despite the fact that everyone of them, with the possible exception of Kaiden, already knew that.

"No longer, with the base secure under the protection of the mine field, we are going to spread our patrols far and wide, show the locals that the Cinnabar flag sill flies and let them that if they are thinking of exchanging our friendship for Guarantor Pora's chains they had best reckon on what the RCN has to say about it!" This raised a round of cheers from the officers, most of whom were at least buzzed on whine or strong liquor already, but the RCN was no place for abstainers. A sober part of Sabatine's mind recognized the other unspoken factors that went into the Commodore's decision to disperse his fleet. If war did break out the first they would hear of it would likely be the arrival of an Alliance squadron extracting from the matrix and launching missiles. A small force like that which operated in the Rayleigh stars could be gutted in minutes if it were caught in orbit by an enemy likely to boast many times their missile tubes. Dispersed the squadron had a better chance of avoiding a crushing defeat and could remain a force in being even if an Alliance task force arrived to attack Herculaneum. Ships would return from their patrols to find the enemy in the system and could fade away if they were too strong or attack from the rear if they were unwary.

"To that end," Welkins continued, cutting through the excited babble once again, "I'm ordering Vicount and Grandwing out at 0600 and 0700 tomorrow, Cadbury will follow as soon as her refit is finished, certainly within the next 24 hours." Officers were begining to reach for recall plates to call their crews back from liberty and Sabatine watched Captain Micha whisper into the ear of one of spacers from the Vickie, doubtless passing his own orders to start rounding up the crew.

"Vesper and Solidad," he went on, referring to the two small sloops, small pocket warships with guns but no missles, "Will remain on station in case the enemy does arrive in force. In such a case Vesper will run for Cinnabar and Solidad will be tasked with attempting to alert the rest of us. Orders have been transmitted to your ships regarding patrol routes." Welkin's grinned wolfishly.

"Perhaps we will finally get our chance to show those goons from the Alliance what real spacers are like! RCN forever!"

"RCN forever!" the assembled officers roared. Sabatine happened to be watching Micha when the cheer went up, the Captain did not join in and looked a little queasy. Well perhaps the booze hadn't quite agreed with him.

[POOHEAD189]

Kaiden had heard better.

Normally such a disgraceful thought wouldn't pass through his head, but Sabatine and his drinking made him lose his composure in his thoughts. He breathed in deeply and realized he needed to curb himself before he began to speak in a similar manner. The Commodore was, of course, right. If the Alliance dared attack, they would be thrown into the void. Kaiden called nearly as loud as the others with their cry of victory, though he didn't stand up in excitement. Instead, he took another drink, knowing he needed it. Sipping, he saw Sabatine and Captain Micha were a trite more reserved than the others, and he followed Sabatine's suspicious gaze to the Captain. The man did seem a bit squeamish. Odd, the food here was finely cooked.

Despite his initial approval, the continuing platitudes and calls for mobilization were going through one of Kaiden's ears and out the other. It was getting all rather droll, and one look at Sabatine was enough to get him to make a few sisyphean excuses of why he needed to leave, not giving anyone a second look. He drank the last of his tankard dry and left it on the table, striding out of the room and through the compound. He decided his excuse of "fresh air" would turn out true, and he found the night was pleasantly warm.

Among the sea, he saw distant lights of gigs and other, larger vessels moving slowly along the horizon line. Most wouldn't be able to differentiate the sea from the sky, but he had spent many nights watching the sea. It helped him relax on this strange, beautiful world. He wished he could appreciate it, but at the moment he was, as the spacers called it, pissed. He headed off the walkway towards the center of the island, where the Vicount was set up above the hanger on it's hydraulic legs. If he was going to be the Lieutenant of the vehicle, his muddled mind decided inspecting it would be a valuable use of his time.

Normally he would often play the rebel, sneaking past the guards even if he had full access to the area. But he didn't know this island near well enough and wanted to flaunt his position, so he waded through every checkpoint with a princely manner and a barely complacent wave of his hand. It was a few minutes into his inspection of the underside that he realized he truly was in no condition to inspect the underside. Not only for the drink, but his mind dwelling on Sabatine. Bloody woman!

"Excuse me?" Said a sultry voice, as smooth as freshly woven silk. "You're a Liuetenant for this Corvette, yes? Might I-" And the shapely woman gasped when Kaiden turned. Even in the dimness of the night, she could recognize his face from countless photos Tilda Savari had seen. "You're Kaiden Caladwarden."

The prince regarded her. Normally he would be thrilled to meet such a delectable woman, but at the moment he was in no mood and she was clearly a reporter. The only reason he didn't immediately tell her to buzz off was that she was not supposed to be within the perimeter after hours and yet here she was, speaking to in the thick of RCN security. He respected talent, particularly in women. "Yes, I am. And I am not taking questions at this time. You should go before I call the men to escort you."

"Wait no!" She said, somehow loudly within a hoarse whisper. "Look, I was already thrown out by that bi-...the female Lieutenant earlier. I'd just like a few questions."

Kaiden blinked, looking at her directly. He gestured with his hands to halt her speech. "Hold...did this Lieutenant have her hair in a bun, a workman's uniform and a harsh disposition?"

She raised an eyebrow, playing with her hair as she wondered whether or not he was asking a trick question. "Yes?"

Kaiden gave her a courtly bow. "Madam, you may ask me whatever you would like. Shall we go to the bar on the east side?"
@Penny

[Penny]

As the cheering died down and the main course, some kind of baked local seabird, was bought out on large platters Sabatine looked around for Kaiden. He had made some excuse but she had imagined it was just to go the jakes. Naturally now there was work to be done, he was no where to be seen. She ate quickly, finding the spiced meat to be surprisingly good but wishing to get a head start on what looked to be a long night. If Welkins really did expect the corvettes to lift first thing in the morning they had better start preparations now. Micha seemed to be in no hurry to move, talking in hushed tones with Captain Harkins of the Grandwing with a great deal of head shaking. Sighing she tossed off the rest of her drink and stood, moving to the side of the room.

"Fi..." she paused and took a second to reorient her drink fuddled mind. She wasn't Ship 5 anymore, that was Kaiden now he was XO. Micha was Ship 6, Kaiden was 5 and she was, once again 4.

"Four to Bosun," she said into her lapel mike.

"Uhh Higgs here, go ahead ma'am," the bosun's voice came back a little bleary, as though he had been awakened from a nap.

"We are scheduled for lift off at 0600, I need you to start rousting the liberty party now," she told him.

"Is err Mr Carewalden with you ma'am I'd like to..." the bosun began. Sabatine felt a flare of anger.

"I don't give a good god damn what you would like bosun, take Klave and carry out my orders this second or I'll break you back to landsman," she snapped. The start that went through Higgs was almost audible.

"Ma'am, yes Ma'am! Higgs out!" he blurted. Sabatine twisted her head from side to side with a satisfied crack. She wasn't best pleased to have a new bosun she knew nothing about, but she tried not to let he fact he had arrived with Kaiden color her opinion of the man. It might be good to put him on notice now that she wasn't to be second guessed. Even with Klave's help it was going to take Higgs half the night to round up spacers who ranged from drunk to paralytic drunk in the various dives and brothels of the strip. At least if the Vickie got a head start, they wouldn't need to chase down runners in every rat hole in the city.

"Lieutenant Hickoring?" a voice came from behind her, she turned around a trifle unsteadily and was shocked and a little horrified to see Commodore Welkins standing a few feet away from her with an outstretched hand. Self consciously she sat her glass down on a sideboard and shook the officer proffered hand. Welkins smiled grimly.

"Not to worry Lieutenant, I don't trust an officer who dosen't spend time with a bottle when in port, will you walk with me a minute?" When delivered down a gradient of four ranks, that was not a request, but it was courteous of him to phrase it that way.

"Of course sir," she said, following the senior officer out onto the veranda in front of the armory. The complex stood on a slight hill and looked down over the embayments which held the vessels of the small flotila, running lights winking at various points on the starships hulls. From Grandwing there were the occasional actinic flash of a spot welder putting to right some minor imperfection.

"I see you are getting a head start or rousting your crew, good thinking that," the Commodore offered sounding genuinely approving.

"Thank you sir," she replied, the slightly chill night air and the presence of the squadron commander sobering her up faster than coffee and a cold shower.

"You have served with Lieutenant Micha for nine months now, how do you find him?" Welkins asked bluntly. Micha like Harkin's was a captain by courtesy though he held the official rank of Lieutenant, by using that rank Welkins was asking her to speak freely about a fellow officer rather than about her commander specifically.

"No complaints sir," she answered as truthfully as she could. Micha was well liked by the crew and able if a little uninspired. Certainly he had treated her well enough during their association.

"I seem to recall you felt differently about that pirate that gave you the slip of Tenacrous three months ago," Welkins observed. Sabatine flushed slightly. They had been chasing a pirate who had hit a shipment of medical supplies using the Vickie and a small anti pirate cutter. When the pirate had taken refuge in a dense asteroid field. Sabatine had been confident she could use the cutter she was commanding to smoke the pirate out and the Vickie could either finish her or force her to surrender but Micha had ordered her to stand down. She hadn't filed any official complaint though anyone who read the after action report could have listened into the transmissions. It was hard to credit the fact that Commodore Welkins had dug that deeply, except, apparently, he had.

"The Captain thought the risk of the cutter being destroyed was too great," Sabatine temporized unwilling to criticize Micha's actions to a superior.

"But not you Hickoring?" Welkins prompted. Sabatine shifted uncomfortably.

"I thought... and think that my gunners are faster and better than anything a half assed pirate sloop might have sir, unless the guns were dead amidships when we cleared the rocks, I think we could have taken her."

Welkins nodded and seemed to file that away without further comment. For a few long moments he merely stared at the ships in harbor, perhaps wondering how they would fair if the Alliance came as he suspected they would. Dispersing his ships was a bold move, the orbital minefield would keep the Alliance out for a while, but they could easily blockade the squadron while they slowly chipped away at the constellation of orbital defenses.

"And what about Lieutenant Carewalden, I understand you too know each other? What is your opinion of him?" Welkin's asked. Sabatine was tempted, truly tempted to deliver a backhanded compliment which would leave Kaiden's reputation in ruins with her commanding officer. It would be so easy to craft a few sentences which seemed polite on the face of it but dammed her one time lover to the dog house for the rest of his commission. In the end she couldn't quite bring herself to do it.

"He is a competent officer sir, I've not served with him, but from what I know of him he will make a good XO," she stated somewhat grumpily. Welkin's arched an eyebrow.

"You don't sound that confident of that Lieutenant," Welkins commented cooly. She shook her head.

"I knew him at the academy sir, we weren't well you know we are very much not old school chums, but he is or at least was an able spacer and a good officer," she replied, the words tasting like ash in her mouth. Welkins nodded and something in his eyes told her a door had been closed.

"I'm glad to hear it Lieutenant," Welkins told her. Down at the docks white and blue lights began to flash. Welkin's chuckled, and she was reminded that he had started his career as an enlisted spacer.

"It looks like your spacers are just getting the word that their leave is canceled," he commented with a smirk.

"Or the shore police are getting the word that they just got the word," Sabatine agreed.

"Well as a senior officer I suppose I ought to express the wish that law and order are quickly restored, but as a spacer I can't say I've ever had much use for the shore police," Welkins admitted. He turned and offered her a slight bow.

"Good night Lieutenant, and good fortune," he said simply.

"You too sir," Sabatine replied, but Welkins was already vanishing back into the knot of officers inside the Armory doors.

[POOHEAD189]

Wisely, Kaiden had elected to eat a bit more and drink a modicum of water before he partook in any other alcoholic beverage. Despite his current companion enjoying a delectable Cinnibar vintage, brewed in 5026. It was one of the perks of being a Liuetant, after all. No non-commissioned officer could acquire a drink of this caliber from most military sanctioned barrooms such as the established they found themselves in, simply called the Black Kettle. It was mostly vacated save for a few off-duty MP's that seemed to be chatting up the bartenders as they cleaned shop. The lovely reported and Kaiden sat across from one another at one of the tall-tables beside one of the vaguely faint lights that were encased in faceted glass. So far she hadn't yet annoyed him, he only wished he were slightly more sober so he could delve back into being tipsy more easily.

"And you were transferred to the Vicount so recently...interesting..." The woman often paused and idly bit her pen, jotting down notes so quickly it seemed an art form. He was content to simply sit there and enjoy the heated wheat loaf that had been provided to them while idly taking the smallest sips of the aged wine. "But there was little explanation as to why, I see. Other than the general mounting escalations of the relations between the Alliance and Cinnibar. I appreciate your candor, which is why I haven't asked you anything that might compromise you. But I am afraid I might need a bit more."

Kaiden chuckled, lounging on his chair as he watched her work. If they weren't expected to set out tomorrow at 0600, he would ask her to share a night with him. But he felt that was the drink taking advantage of his mind. It didn't do to mix with journalists, even one as smart and pretty as this. Then again, it didn't do to mix with fellow soldiers and he ignored that bit of advice. Maybe the taboo aspect was partly why he was drawn in? He pushed the thought away. "I'm afraid I don't have anything more, unfortunately. Unless you'd like my shoe size or my blood type. I would like to know where all of these basic military questions are being sent to. What was your network again?"

"The Herculaneum Vault, network 5B on Island 67." She reiterated, sharp eyes switching to him again. "And I'm certain theres more. Maybe something personal?" Tilda began with a hinting smile. "Being a scion of the Caladwarden houseshold must have its share of secrets, and you're no fan of your father as you've said. Or Perhaps something a bit less domestic? You did jump on my offer when I told you of Liuetenant Sabatine. You were lovers, weren't you? Ah, the look says it all! I had not been informed relationships among officers was allowed in the navy, or was it simply frowned upon?"

"I wasn't aware the Herculaneum Vault were into gossip columns," He shot back, amused. He took the last sip of wine he would have that night, for the 3rd time. "I didn't think you were that kind of woman either."

"And what kind of woman am I?"

"Intelligent...relentless if given the opportunity. None of which scream gossip columnist." He remarked, sitting up in his chair. He couldn't tell if it was the alcohol, his libido, or if he was truly impressed that led him to his next train of thought. Clearing his throat, he asked. "How much does the vault pay it's employees? Let me guess, enough? I'm leaving tomorrow. Find me when we make port again, and if you don't lie about your wage, I'll add 20% and ask for your services as my helper."

"A servant?" She laughed incredulously, staring at him. "...You're serious? I mean, I'll think about it." She idly fixed her hair as if she was at a job interview, or speaking to someone she found attractive. Both was likely, he thought.

"Just think on it. And do decide before I return. I doubt I'll be drunk the next time we meet." He told her, leaving money to pay the bill as he made his way out of the barroom and back to his quarters. He was going to have a hell of a day tomorrow.