a/n: Boredom breeds some seriously bad behavior on the Whale. The higher ups are left to set an example.
Solidly T, but it might make you blush. No swears, whooo, thank you Lila.
All the good stuff belongs to the geniuses, medieval or otherwise, of Monolith Soft, but alas, aside from H.B. and Vandham, most of these characters I made up. Rita "Pearly" Martinez, how I wish you were real! Ngo, likewise. Donnel not so much. Lila the OC is also mine, not at all a Cross, in fact, she is so far from being Cross, the light from Cross will not reach her for several centuries.
Lila Brown inhaled sharply, then held her breath. Her eyes were already shut, not exactly tight, but with unmovable determination. She was doing her best, unsuccessfully, to ignore the rustling noises, deep grunts, and concerned gasps surrounding her. She held her arms rigid as more weight was sightlessly dropped upon them. This was not at all what she had expected from her first appearance at an executive level meeting. She thought that it was going to be bad, sure, but never quite this excruciating.
She was the first to admit it: she had earned some grief. A lot of grief. One does not deck a fellow shipmate, no matter the provocation. Maybe on your free time, and somewhere off duty. But not in one's own station, and not when it is a member of another team. Not when one is in charge of said station. Not when one is the first to throw a punch. (Last to throw a punch too, she couldn't help remembering with regrettable smugness.) And definitely not without warning.
She had done the exact opposite of how it was supposed to be done. The random soldier had burst into her station, all smiles and ready to continue the game of tag that had been raging across the ship for almost a month, and she had popped him one in the nose without a so much as a growl. Unluckily for him, he'd chosen that moment to turn his head, and she'd dislocated his jaw. She was still trying to figure the angle that had made that possible, what with her having a distinct height disadvantage against most (all) of the ship. He'd been on the short side, but not all that. Maybe it was the wrench she'd been holding. She'd have to discuss it with Marcos, the Whale's boxing expert. Later.
As a direct and justified result, she'd been invited to a public dressing down at the upper level, all sections meeting. She'd never been before, since it was intended only for the general heads of the various teams, sometimes their aides, and maybe one or two invited experts. She'd arrived at the conference area, hair tight in a regulation braid, alas still with streaks of purple because that dye wasn't going away in under three weeks of constant washing, much less one night. She was wearing her formal blue uniform for the first time in never. She'd even dug out the kicky little heels that somebody had decided were appropriate for female gear. Amazingly comfortable, a sheer wonder of engineering, almost enough to distract her from the humiliation in store when she tried to explain why she'd gone so out of bounds. Then she'd walked into the room and seen not only the Chief glowering at her as darkly as tar but also, oh kill her now, the smiling smug face of Hector, and if he wasn't looking forward to every single, stinking minute of the next agonizing hour, well, she knew a lot less about human nature than, say, a rock.
She'd waited for her turn, an exquisite pain in itself. Vivian Ngo had droned about water consumption, and the plans for an additional reclamation plant. The specialist wing she represented was in constant competition for real estate on the ship. Lila couldn't blame them wanting to get out of the environmental bubble of the Habitat Unit. Personally, the artificial living space gave her the creeps, and not just because it triggered her agoraphobia. Too crowded, too bored, too dangerous. But did Vivian really have to play rhetorical ping-pong with herself as she listed and dismissed all the possibilities? Lila had to look polite and honored to be present, even as she watched the Chief start to nod off. The fact that Hector was positioned just beside Ms. Ngo, smirking with expectation, did not make it easier.
"Is this meeting a waste of your time, Chief Vandham?" asked Pearly, a short-haired woman sitting next to Vivian. Great, thanks a lot, boss, getting the XO herself snippy about you, your team, and well, me too. Rita Martinez was a ferocious figure, enough to frighten the sauciest of soldiers. Not just her manner, not just her position, she had combat skills that should have put her in charge of the fighting division, except she also seemed to have the knack to be just in the right location at the right time. Or maybe wrong and wrong for whoever was about to start a whole lot of trouble. Too bad she hadn't swung round the relay station yesterday. Lila respected her, but like most people, Lila tended not to use her proper name, lest that somehow summon the executive officer. Why the ship had decided on "Pearly" wasn't clear, but Lila reminded herself definitely NOT to use that nickname today.
"Nope, I'm good," Vandham said, even though his eyes were still shut and he hadn't quite resumed a fully upright position.
"Good for what?" snapped the fourth official member of the meeting. Donnel Hudson, the head of the fighting forces. Again, fearsome, and yet Lila could barely resist the urge to stick out her tongue at him. He was all that, and he knew it. It grated on a person. His light hair didn't really look great in a buzz cut either, made him look underfed somehow. Lila bit her tongue instead. Not a good time to start laughing, thinking how this burly warrior sometimes reminded her of a baby chick, all downy and confused. He wasn't a smart as Vivian or the Chief, but he wasn't dumb, and he had a really short temper if he thought he or his team were being insulted.
Vandham heaved a great sigh and opened his eyes. "Good at clearing out yet another bank of battery reserves so we can let Viv and Co. build their thingmabobs. I know you want it closer to the Habitat Unit, but that'll take a good month of shifting. Gimme a couple days, and I can consolidate a lower set, probably the 8-4 level, front sector. Either port side or central. We can do starboard too, or higher up, but like I said, those'll take time. Tell me what you prefer, and I'll get it for you." He'd swung his massive body up and slanted his head toward the soldiers' leader. He squinted sharply. "Provided I can get a few more hands. Are your kids busy, Donnel? I mean, with something useful?"
Pearly, uh, Commander Martinez, smiled thinly. "Which brings us to the next topic. Are YOUR people busy, Chief? Because I don't remember sending fellow shipmates to the Mimeosome Repair Center as being part of their job."
"I've asked Technician Brown, and she said…"
"Yes, Technician Brown," interrupted Pearly. Lila gave up correcting herself, because now was the time to pay attention. Rather like mice pay attention to large cats. "Again, it is my presumption that your people can speak, as well as having better things to busy themselves with."
"Yes, sir," rapped out Brown, snapping into her very best stance. Good job, kid, you got that out without choking. Let's see how long before she wrecks you, and deservedly so. Brown resisted a sigh, saving it for later. What a stupid reason to get busted.
"You struck a fellow shipmate."
"Yes, sir."
"Personal animosity?"
"No, sir."
"Amusement?"
"No, sir."
"A good reason?"
Lila tried not to hesitate, but that was impossible. Still, it was minute. "No, sir."
Not minute enough. "Are you sure you have no explanation?"
Oh, it was so hard not to try for an explanation. Lila's voice slowed, but she resisted the temptation. "No, sir."
"Because you don't seem certain."
Lila couldn't help herself. She darted a glance at the Chief, before snapping her gaze back forward.
"You have orders from the Engineering department that I don't know about?"
"No, sir." That one was fast, and easy too, because this was her own bundle of stupid.
Donnel gave a woof of laughter. Martinez snapped at him, almost as sharply, "Your man isn't here to answer, but he'll need to explain later."
"What's to explain?" Donnel said broadly. Lila bit her tongue again. Yes, please, let him wade into the explanation. Let him take some of the heat. She deserved all that was coming to her, but merciful heavens, somebody else should get a slap too. Because that game of tag, still continuing, punch or no punch, had cost her station the better part of 3 days of work, and if it didn't stop soon, regular maintenance was going to start falling behind. She didn't like to think what might happen then.
Donnel did continue, bless him. "My man went into a non-crucial area, really just a holding spot for extra engineering personnel. They aren't key, and they're over staffed, usually with some of mine to boot. My guy tagged an engineering troll and ran. They'd done that a couple times."
"Eight times," Lila said. "Four times in the previous shift. Sir." She swallowed hard, and shut up.
"Your staff can't follow orders to stay put, not my fault," snapped Donnel angrily.
Vandam patted the desk with surprising gentleness. "They were probably sick of having to buy a round of drinks every time they don't engage. You need to put your people on a different routine, because ambushing the engineering team is not acceptable stealth training." His voice held an echo of laughter. Lila took a slight hope. She might be in deep officially, but she suspected the Chief wasn't 100% angry at her.
"And the lack of clothing on Shipmate Huston?" Pearly continued, without a trace of humor. Again, Lila felt some comfort, if no hope. They were going to make an example of her, sure, probably one that would take her years to overcome, if ever, but at least the stupid game would be over. Lila tried not to let the misery show in her face, because there couldn't possibly be a stupider reason to get busted.
Streaker tag. Drop your clothes, run into another division's workspace, tag someone, and run. The target either followed suit, after first removing their suit (armor, overalls, whatever), or bought you and your friends drinks for the next 48 hours. Sure, you could hide out and hope that people forgot. But the ship was a sealed system, and no bartender was going to ignore that you owed several drinks. Lila almost longed for the first few months after the escape from Earth, when every system was in such disarray that there wasn't time for several thousand young men and women to get bored. But 22 months later, things were in pretty good shape, free time was now available, and after the Scrabble mania and Tetris leagues had burnt themselves out, streaker tag had gotten its fangs into the crew.
Donnel shrugged and smiled. "It's nothing. It's all in fun. Builds community in otherwise empty time. If the void trolls can't take the sunlight on their nether parts, not our fault."
Vandham wasn't quite as complacent. "They've got a job to do, mostly keeping us alive. Leave my team alone."
Donnel's eyes narrowed and he said in his nastiest tone, "Your team is almost as pathetic as Viv's here. At least her specialist units don't pretend to be anything but non-combatants."
Oh-no-you-just-didn't, thought Lila. Almost loud enough to be heard, but not quite. They might be trolls, they might be stuck in the back of beyond, but Lila wasn't the only former military member working for the engineering department. A lot of Earth Defense forces had shifted directly to the building of the arc ships, and their retirement from active duty was pretty much a polite fiction. Take, just for example, Chief Vandham.
"Right," said the Chief, standing up. He loomed over her by a good quarter of a meter. "Brown, hold my comm device."
She obediently accepted the rectangular scrap of essential electronics. She also prepared to launch herself between the two men before Vandham took his first swing at Donnel. Maybe if she blocked that punch, the fight wouldn't advance. Maybe they'd decide to let her off with a reprimand. Maybe her head would still be on her shoulders and not rolling around on the conference table. Possibly not. She hoped at least that some of her mimeosome fluid spattered onto Hector. It was going to be horrifically, nightmarishly bad.
It was worse.
The Chief grabbed the hem of his utterly non-regulation tank and whipped it up and over his simply ginormous shoulders, exposing so much skin that Lila's eyes couldn't open wide enough to see it all. He tossed the shirt into her hands, then reached towards his belt buckle. That's when the world went dark, because Lila Brown, survivor of the destruction of Earth, veteran of several submarines missions, and granddaughter of a foul-mouthed Swede, knew when the challenge was too great. It wasn't cowardice, it was self-preservation, and her eyelids slapped shut, sealing her from danger.
After a pause and the sound of two heavy objects shooting under the table (probably boots), more weight landed in her arms. Bulky and dragging downward, with a slender swinging pendulum. Trousers and belt. A slight additional weight, and Lila stopped guessing, although she couldn't stop the smallest squeak.
There was a rising hubbub of voices. She was sure it was Hector who gasped like a paperback virgin. Ms. Cho was sputtering with laughter. Other assistants snickering or snapping. A zone of dead silence from around Commander Martinez, and Lila didn't have to remind herself to use the XO's proper name. Donnel's voice was dripping sarcasm. "Don't you get the rules, Jack? You ain't been tagged, so no one wants you in the game."
She could have cared less what Donnel thought. She'd been waiting to hear the Chief's voice. It was clear, through all the confusion. Not laughing, but dead serious. "Viv, consider yourself included. First one to the bridge wins," said Vandham. Then a loud smacking sound. "You're it." And a burst of movement. Lila's eyes opened fast enough to just see the blur of the Chief shooting out the exit. Without a stitch of clothing, her brain found it necessary to remind her. Thanks, brain.
Donnel was red with fury, almost obscuring the clear handprint on his left cheek, and he was already struggling with his armor. The rest of the assembled members of the meeting were also on their feet, gesturing and shouting. All except the XO and Ngo. Lila looked at the two women. Pearly was calm and blank faced, as if nothing had happened, certainly not the disrobing of her Chief Engineer during a weekly conference. And of the defense team leader, because after some hopping around, Donnel had stripped and raced after the chief. Ngo was smiling with disbelief. Then she rose to her feet, turned to Hector, and said, "H.B., dear, hold my comm device."
A moment later a third, more slender figure flew through the door, leaving a shocked Hector holding a dainty pile of garments, the vast weight of which threatened to overcome him. Lila had already dumped the Chief's gear in his chair, and had plopped herself, uninvited, in Donnel's empty chair. The Chief's comm device was in her hands, and she was swiping furiously.
"Ms. Brown?" asked the XO.
"Keeping track of them, sir. They're already three decks up, and…" Lila paused, "Ngo's found the closest maintenance shaft, so she may catch up."
"Please share the information on screen."
Lila obediently diverted the feed, but kept her eyes down. The voices in the room rose again, now in laughter, because Lila had put up the security camera footage. Let them watch the spectacle, she thought, but I need to watch the facilities. She sensed Martinez peering over her shoulder.
"Your chief seems to have missed the elevator." Indeed, the small blip representing the large engineer had passed the main elevator to the bridge. Donnel's blip had halted, and after a second of waiting, had started advancing steadily up the decks. Lila smiled.
"Wait for it, sir." The soldier's marker came to a complete halt as an orange warning lit up the sector.
"Really? Elevator maintenance? A bit sudden?"
"No, sir. It's weekly, per the Chief's orders. You wouldn't want us to endanger the ship, sir." Lila spared a glance to one corner of the main screen, where Donnel stood uncomfortably, surrounded by a dozen shipmates, in a small stopped grey cube. Even with the black and white feed, his flaming cheeks were obvious. "It'll continue and open at the next floor in a minute, in case people don't want to wait." Meanwhile, she could see Ngo twisting gracefully through a maintenance shaft. She must have figured a way to turn off the gravity in that section.
Pearly had followed her gaze. "There will be no maintenance on the gravity units," she commanded sharply.
"No, sir. Not until Tuesday." Lila turned to check on the XO. "The elevator thing really was scheduled for this shift," she assured her. "Sir."
"All the more reason to read the daily notices."
Random people had started to fill the room. Some may have begun cheering. Hector had slumped into Ngo's seat, struggling to regain his composure. What little he'd acquired evaporated when he caught himself almost wiping his brow with an unmentionable. Martinez flicked a glance at Lila, then pointedly at various piles of clothing. When she marched out of the conference room, Lila leapt to her feet, grabbing Vandham's pants from his chair, a wild assortment of Donnel's gear off the floor, and then stretched across the table to snatch the whole of Ngo's bundle from Hector's lap. He was still squawking when the doors shut behind her as she followed the XO.
Lila put her best runner's pace on to try to catch up. Which meant that she slammed into Pearly at the end of the corridor. The XO didn't even shiver, while Lila had to stutter step several times to avoid falling backward. "Any other maintenance that would be helpful?" the other woman deadpanned.
"No, sir, but I think…"
"Spit it out."
"Air shaft 15 is a pretty fun ride, and gets us to within three floors of the bridge."
Pearly didn't need directions, and was opening the maintenance cover before Lila, hampered by the combined wardrobe of three of the ship's leading officers, had joined her. To Lila's surprise, the Commander lifted the clothing out of her grip. Lila didn't hesitate. She turned on the nearest instrument panel and started swiping, sometimes on the local screen, sometimes on the Chief's comm device. A distant rumble indicated that the air shaft was starting an unscheduled but authorized clearing cycle.
The Commander shoved the gear back in Lila's arms, at the same time plucking the comm device away. Lila twitched her shoulders in a slightly guilty shrug. Oh, please, Lila thought, do not bust me for using the Chief's device. Do not think about how I had no time to hack it at just this moment. Do not start questioning me about security. But the other woman only motioned towards the shaft in an "after you" gesture. Lila jumped, and was blasted upward.
Raging wind was not Lila's environment. Even if flailing could have stabilized her in that hurricane, she couldn't release her grip on the streakers' gear. She must have hit the side of the shaft with every floor. She definitely was pinned against the ceiling, and who knows how long she would have stayed like that if Pearly hadn't pulled her off it and swung her onto solid ground. "Three more floors. I don't need directions." Lila hadn't really doubted that, and followed promptly.
The two woman arrived at the door of the bridge together. Lila had her hands full of laundry, and her hair was escaping her formally regulation sharp braid. She lamented its loss. She'd really tried hard, and it had been all for nothing. It didn't make her feel better to see the slight skew to the XO's skirt. Martinez was still kilometers more collected than Lila. "Aren't we going in, sir?" she asked.
"We'll wait." The Commander's response silenced Lila completely.
Loud footsteps could be heard rounding a corner. Lila's head snapped upward. Lila couldn't help it. Pearly could remained composed. Lila was going to start counting ceiling tiles for the foreseeable future. The footsteps skidded to a halt, and she could hear the Chief choking. "Uh. Shoot. I guess you aren't okay with this, Commander."
"Get dressed." Commander Pearly had pulled the Chief's trousers efficiently from the pile as an arctic blast filled the corridor, at least figuratively. Lila kept counting those tiles. 15, 16, 17.
"Yes, sir. Um, you want me to apologize or something?"
"No. What I want …"
"Whoo, hoo, you got to touch it to win!" came a breathless voice behind them. Ngo sounded giddy with delight. "I did it! God, I love gravity and the lack thereof!" Lila was shoved away in the commotion, not with any great force, and bounced off something large that wasn't the corridor wall. She continued to count. 18! 19!
Martinez gave an angry snort. There was a limit even for the Unshakeable Pearly. "Side room. When both you're ready. Donnel can join us whenever." She strode off.
"Oh, cr…." Vandham bit off whatever he was about to say.
"Whoo hoo, I can't believe I won. I am collecting from both of you until next month. Maybe the month after that." From the corner of her eye, Lila sensed Ngo doing a joyous dance. Then the other woman stopped. "Oh, what a dear, you brought my clothes."
Lila was amazed that there were so many ceiling tiles on the deck level. So very many! Both the head of engineering and the leader of the specialist teams were using her shoulders as grab bars to help them balance while reapplying their clothing. So many tiles, she'd never count them all. She was practically dizzy by the time Vandham grunted, "It's safe to look, Brown." She wasn't sure that was true, because his shirt was still down at the conference room. But she swallowed hard and tried to look professional. Vandham face was red from the race, his bare feet at a wide stance, arms crossed over an expanse of chest that made the ceiling tiles dwindle to nothingness. There was very little of the usually focused engineer. Ngo, on the other hand, seemed almost normal, save for her own rosy blush. Lila noted that her blouse was off by one button.
"You couldn't be bothered to bring my boots?" Vandham muttered.
"They were under the table, sir. Required too big a search party. We only just made it here in time."
"Yeah, well, I'll hold on to Donnel's gear until he gets here." He rifled through the stack as he took it from her. "Uh, maybe you should get someone to send up his pants. Hop along and tell them, okay? After that, go back to your station."
As Lila turned towards the auxiliary elevator, he shouted after her. "And pass the word. Tag is over."
Hallelujah and amen, thought Lila.
a/n: Yes, thanks, brain. Please send help. I blame a very long drive during which I was forced to listen to hour upon hour of Eldest Child's current favorite, BABYMETAL. "You look dead inside," said Eldest Child. "Oh, you don't know the half of it," I said.
I cannot tell you how sad I am that Commander "Pearly" Martinez did not survive the crash of the Whale in my XCX. She was awesome, and Vandham had some seriously big kicky heels to fill. Eldest Child suggests that she still exists, on the other side of Mira, without memory but still taking names and using those heels to good purpose. I'll think about that.
Please enjoy this souvenir from my vacation
Real stories will resume next month
Provided my brain stops hijacking my plans