Chapter 4: Camile Wray
Camile stormed down the hallways away from the colonel. Or rather, he stormed away from her. She'd continued walking through the halls only after watching him disappear behind a corner in Destiny's corridor. Her meeting with Colonel Young had not gone as well as she had intended. Walking helped her think and, after her meeting with Young, she desperately needed to think.
Morale was an issue. Why couldn't Young see that? With Rush's death, they had lost much more than a life. They'd lost a sense of hope. He seemed to think that as soon as he took command again, everything would return to normal.
He was wrong. It was infuriating.
At least she knew exactly the lay of the land now. Rush and Young were always going at it. Caught between them, not sure which camp is the better choice. With Rush's death, that was no longer the case. Maybe it's time you started your own.
Based on that advice, she'd started her own camp several weeks ago. She'd almost succeeded thanks to the trial. But she'd been fair when new evidence came to light. Perhaps too fair. Obviously, we need to rethink our situation. Young had jumped at the opportunity to throw her command in her face. I'm not asking permission, I'm telling you.
With Rush gone, Camile intended to move into Rush's political vacuum and put more pressure on Young, somehow get him to step aside. Where Rush had failed through annoying the crap out of Young, she would succeed through more patient measures. She had connections back home. Perhaps through those, she could manipulate the situation in a way Rush never could have.
Although she hated to say it, politically, Rush's death was a dream come true. She knew she could do a better job commanding than Rush could have done. She could certainly do better than Young was doing. Young couldn't even see the possibility of all out warfare between the military and the civilians. Someone had to stick up for the underdogs. With Rush out of the picture, that someone was her, and she intended to pour everything she had at the situation.
She still had to address the problem of morale. She still had to address how to get her crew home. If she could figure that out, she'd get more buy-in from the crew than she'd had following the result of the trial. More crew buy-in meant she would secure her position as Destiny's commander.
She would have to be careful. Making political bonds that changed the face of active situations took time. Time she'd have to spend on Earth via the communications stones. Every trip she'd take to Earth would be monitored, reported, catalogued. Young could know every step she made. She would have to be very careful.
She'd start with the fissure Rush's loss had left in the crew's morale. If she befriended the crew while they were feeling low, they'd stick with her when it came down to the line. Make no mistake. It would come down to the line. Young would not give up his command easily. He'd proven that already.
The crew needed someone to look to now that Rush was gone. Eli was a good choice. Everyone loved him. Plus, he was the reason Rush was able to make the ninth chevron work. Eli's own style of genius would get the crew to pay attention when he spoke. The situation was complicated by the fact that Eli had pretty firmly allied himself with Young. Eli was the reason she'd lost her command to begin with. But he was a reasonable kid. Maybe she could make him see her point of view, get him to help her turn the tides. He was close to the colonel. That could come in handy.
She'd had a feeling that Rush had tried using Eli similarly, perhaps with little effect. But then, Rush's people skills had been lacking at the best of times. She wasn't even sure how the kid had been able to stand hours with Rush in the same room. That proved he was patient.
Yes, Eli would work well for her purposes.
Camile's pace slowed as she saw Sergeant Greer turn the corner further down the hall. He walked, as most of the military officers walked, with his chest proudly displaying his uniform. She inwardly snarled. Greer was the last person she wanted to see while her anger at Young was flaring.
He'd seen her too and hesitated as he came around the corner. They stood at opposite ends of the hall watching each other like two gun fighters from an old spaghetti Western film.
She needed to get past him and he needed to get past her. Obviously, neither one of them would turn around. They would have to pass each other. Seemingly, both had the same thought at the same time. They both moved forward.
"Ma'am," said Greer cautiously as he passed her. She hated it when he called her that. It made her feel old.
"Don't give me that 'Ma'am,' crap, Sergeant," she said.
He just couldn't resist twisting the knife. "Yes, Ma'am," he said and turned to continue down the hall. She watched him try to hide the grin that started to peek out at the corners of his mouth.
"You think you're funny, don't you?" she asked. He'd decided to antagonize her, so she wasn't going to allow him to leave without a fight.
Greer stopped walking but did not turn around. He folded his arms behind his back. "What will it take to make peace with you, Ma'am?" he asked.
Wray hesitated. She must have paused longer than she thought. Greer swiveled his head around to look at her as if to check to see if she was still there. "I'm not sure peace is possible," she said at last.
"Well, then," said Greer so quietly his voice was barely above a whisper. She had to strain to hear him. "We have a problem."
"Yes, we do," she agreed.
What the hell? Did she just agree with him?