AUgust24 05 Chess (Vandham, White Whale crew)

a/n: An admittedly weak story, three officers discussing how to get control of a crew that is bored and stressed and behaving badly. Swears, because Vandham.

"I don't quite follow you," said Dr. Ngo, sipping her coffee. "Idle hands are the devil's something or other."

"I just wish it weren't chess," complained Chief Engineer Vandham, nursing his own coffee, the mug comically small in his meaty fist. He'd been blowing off steam at an informal post-meeting meeting for senior staff on the great ship ECP02 White Whale. His ship, his baby, his delight, every beautiful centimeter of it, from exhaust diverters to the engines, god, the engines, along every girder that held the corridors to the equivalent of the windshield wipers on the bridge. He loved every part of it, but the crew sometimes drove him up the wall.

The ship's XO, Rita Martinez, had finished her coffee early, but had remained to hear out Vandham's lament. "Let me understand," she said crisply. "You're not opposed to extra-curricular crew activities, including things such as unregulated boxing gyms or private distilleries, but you draw the line at chess."

"Never heard about boxing," Vandham said unconvincingly, "and I personally busted up that still a week ago."

"The most recent still," Dr. Ngo added cheerfully, toasting with her mug.

"I'm doing my best, honest, sir," Vandham continued, "but this chess mess brings a different set of problems which I can't smash."

"Such as?" asked Martinez.

"Such as I'm catching specialized teams trying to poach crew off of other groups. It doesn't matter if the guy or gal knows the first thing about what needs doing. They're just looking to grab someone that knows the best opening move. It works in reverse. I had a tech half-weeping in my office today. Their unit had pushed them out because they honestly didn't give a fuck about the game and it showed. Pardon my French."

"Santé," said Ngo, waving her mug.

"Then there's the gambling situation."

"That is concerning," said Martinez.

"It's nothing new on the individual level. We've always had to watch out for people blowing their credits and getting loans, clean or dirty. Space didn't change that." Vandham sighed and emptied his mug in one gulp. "It's the problem about other crew gambling on a player. If rumors get around that so-and-so threw a game, then no one can trust them. One crying tech is bad enough; it happens. I've got teams that won't talk to each other now. I can't fix them by shouting at them and taking away their toys. If this goes on for much longer, I'm going to have to shuffle most of my department."

Martinez looked serious. She shared a look with Ngo. "Thoughts?"

"A few. You could turn it official, with leagues and a grand championship. Then we could all watch one of my researchers destroy everyone in their path. That could be fun."

"It would give me an end date for my misery," Vandham conceded. "What if it takes too long? What if they want round two?"

"Alternately, you could inject a more interesting fad. Something like the streaking that went on earlier this year." Dr. Ngo smiled demurely.

"No," said Vandham, his face turning a deep red that the ship's hydroponic tomatoes could only aspire to.

"No," said Martinez with finality. "Your record will remain unchallenged, Vivian."

Dr. Ngo shrugged and set down her cup. "My last suggestion is related. No one would want to follow in my footsteps anyway, because for some reason they don't even like to think about it. It is 'cringe', to use a phrase of my youth. Somehow, we need to make chess uncool again."

"How the hell do we make chess uncool? It's already high-nerd shit."

"Think. Who does the crew dislike even more than officers? More than the scientists in my department?"

Vandham looked blank. Martinez understood at once. "The passengers," she answered.

Vandham's face brightened. "Those parasites. They're the natural enemies of any self-respecting crew member, even the fighting units."

"Exactly," said Dr. Ngo. "Suppose I suggest a chess renaissance, complete with championship, when I meet with Vice President Chausson later today. If the crew thinks they're being copied, they might drop the interest faster."

"It'll be dead by Friday," predicted Vandham.

"If you would be so kind," said Martinez, closing the topic.

a/n: The day the Dr. Ngo beat everyone at streaking the length of the ship can be found in "Streaker Tag". All of them were blissfully unaware of the looming danger of Scrabble.

Next up: Reality show. Please, please, let the host be L.