Crineal Chronicles 1: In Hera's Service (7 page)

She
looked at him squarely. “If that’s what it takes, Sir, then yes. You need a
break.” Strieger knew she was out of line but she didn’t want to see Crineal
crack. From out of the shuttle two lines of men and women appeared wearing the
short toga uniforms of recreation assistants. Even from the observation deck
the two officers could see that the prisoners’ spirits had been broken. “If you
don’t do something, Sir, you’ll end up as empty as them,” she said in a quiet
but fierce tone, with a gesture to the scene in the bay. She was trying to not
let her frustrations with her commander show to the nearby security station
watch.

Crineal
stood looking down into the bay, his hands clasped behind his back. Just as
Strieger opened her mouth to say something that would likely get her a court-martial,
or at least a serious charge of improper conduct, the general leaned forward
and stared hard at something. Strieger tried to follow his gaze to see what had
caught his attention, but all there was were the lines of prisoners exiting the
shuttle. Crineal straightened and strode over to the security console.

The
petty officer at the desk looked up uncertainly as Crineal approached and then
stood to attention and saluted. “Sir, can I help you, General?”

“Yes,
Petty Officer, can I borrow your station for a moment?” he nodded towards the
console.

It
wasn’t exactly within regulations, but this was a general asking, and Crineal
at that. He decided on discretion being the better part of not being
transferred somewhere really unpleasant. “Uh, yes, Sir, certainly, if you could
make it quick so our scans aren’t interrupted?”

“Thank
you. I’ll only be a minute.” He sat down at the console and used the controls
to turn a camera on the lines of prisoners. He found the spot in the line he
was looking for and dialed up the zoom. He stared at the screen, trying to
remember and then nodded to himself. It was her, he was sure of it. Crineal
returned the display to normal and stood up. “Much appreciated, Petty Officer. A
false alarm, though. Carry on.” He returned the petty officer’s salute and
walked back to where Strieger waited for him.

“Everything
ok, Sir?” she asked worriedly.

Crineal
looked down at the bay where the prisoners were disappearing out of sight
through the massive cargo doors. “Hmmm?” he said distractedly and then seemed
to focus again. “Oh yes, it was nothing. Just thought I saw something odd.”

Strieger
looked unconvinced at the explanation but decided to leave it. “Ok, but just
think about what I said, Sir. I’d rather not have to take command of the
squadron because you’re locked up in a psych ward somewhere.”

He
stood for a moment and then nodded at her. “You’re right, Major. I do need
something.” Strieger could hardly believe it. He was agreeing with her on this?
“I know you’re only looking out for me and believe me, if we weren’t in the
same chain of command I’d be looking to get to know you far more intimately.”
She wondered who had managed to kidnap her general in the last five minutes and
replace him with this pod person without her noticing. “I’ll give it some
thought and maybe make a visit to O-Rec,” he smiled at her conspiratorially,
“and I promise not to mention your most improper suggestion… unless I need a
favor from you. I will treasure the offer though.” At least the teasing was
more back to normal, but that was the closest he’d ever come to telling her how
much he really liked her.

She
pulled herself together. “Thank you, Sir, that’s all I can ask.” She didn’t
think he really would go to O-Rec, but at least he appeared to be considering
options.

“Now,
I don’t want to keep you from preparing for your leave, so I’ll let you get
your packing done. I need to go and check on a few things, including tomorrow’s
flight schedule. Have a good time, Major, and try not to get too drunk.” He
turned and gave her a backward wave before she could even salute and he was
gone from the observation area. Strieger stood there in confusion, looking down
into the now empty cargo bay and wondering what had just happened.

Crineal
entered his office and sat down at his desk. He fired up the data systems and
requested the latest incoming cargo manifests. Scrolling down he found the item
he wanted, innocuously labeled as ‘Entertainment Supplies’. Crineal opened the
file and started going through the personnel list before finally coming to a
halt at the image of a green-eyed, chestnut redheaded woman on the display. Her
face was a little long, with a pale complexion and lightly dusted with
freckles. It gave her a slightly girlish look. He adjusted and rotated the
image for a few seconds to make sure his memory was right and then pulled up
her file information. Her name was listed as Cyndora. Crineal snorted, that was
about as accurate as his being Crineal. He’d had to modify his name, as had all
Earth citizens to match Imperial law. Only the nobles had the legal right to
two names. But Cyndora wasn’t even close to her original name. Then he
remembered that another part of the Imperial corrections system was stripping
criminals of their identities and providing them with new ones. They weren’t
quite brainwashed, but using their original names carried heavy punishments. He
looked further. Crime: Member of the rebellion, level one. Hmmm, he thought, so
she had been a basic cell member. Probably just storing a few illegal items,
running messages, that kind of stuff. Certainly nothing big league. Sentence:
Forty-five years in a moderate security installation. Crineal winced, just for
belonging to the rebellion? Additional Information: Prisoner judged to be low
risk and offered alternate sentence following correctional code indoctrination.
Yeah, they’d probably done everything to her short of red hot pokers and
pulling her finger nails out and then offered her forty-five years more of that
or… Prisoner volunteered to serve a twenty-five year sentence assisting the
Space Corps. Prisoner has therefore indicated a willingness to cooperate with
Imperial justice, and leniency has been shown by granting her request. Prisoner
processed for induction to Space Corps duty. Crineal didn’t even want to think
what that was a euphemism for. Service Designation: Standard duties. She was
destined for the Enlisted Recreational area. The recreation assistants in the
O-Rec were designated as ‘Senior’. Not that that meant there was a promotion or
rank structure for assistants. Those serving in the Officers’ area were judged
to be slightly more attractive and/or more intelligent, the better to serve the
supposedly more ‘cultured’ desires of the senior crew members. It was possible
to move from the Enlisted to Officer Areas but not usual. Transfers the other
way were much more likely as prisoners burned out, or were deemed ‘no longer
suitable’ following minor rule infractions. He understood it was generally
considered to be more desirable to serve in the more comfortable O-Rec. Crineal
shut the screen down in disgust. Yes, anyone stupid enough to belong to the
rebellion deserved to be punished, he thought. He didn’t have much sympathy for
the lower ranks but it seemed to him these kinds of sentences were excessive,
even taking into account the longevity offered by Imperial medical research.
Now the rebel activists and higher-ups were a different matter. Over the years
his hatred towards them had grown stronger and stronger. They deserved all the
hell the Imperial justice system could give them. He sat there for a moment
pondering and then brought up his displays again. He punched in a request: who
was the current commanding officer of the recreation division? The answer
flashed back: Lt. Commander Haraway. Ah yes, Crineal vaguely remembered him
now. He’d met him a couple of times at senior staff meetings and functions. He
didn’t seem to be a bad sort but who knows? He stood up and headed to Haraway’s
office.

Lieutenant
Draffar wasn’t in the best of moods. He’d only been allocated a three day pass
and that was still two weeks away. In the meantime the work was flooding in due
to the re-supply of the carrier whilst she was parked at the Orbital. The recreation
division lieutenant looked up as the door opened, irritated by the
interruption. A new batch of personnel had arrived a little while ago and he
was trying to process their data. He started to speak and then jumped to his
feet and saluted when he saw who it was. He didn’t know Crineal personally but
he knew him by reputation. If Crineal was here, then something was probably
seriously wrong. The man didn’t make social visits outside of the flight areas.
“Sir! What can I do for you?”

Crineal
returned his salute. “At ease, Lieutenant. Is Lt. Commander Haraway available?
I’d like a word with him.”

Actually,
the commander had given strict instructions that he wasn’t to be disturbed
because of the current workload, but Draffar guessed that Commander Haraway
hadn’t imagined that he was going to get a visit from Crineal, either. “I’ll
just see if he’s available, Sir, but I’m sure he’ll have time for you.” He
triggered his comm link and waited for a response.

Haraway’s
voice came through carrying a trace of annoyance. “What is it, Lieutenant?”

“Sorry
to disturb you, Sir. General Crineal is here. He says he’d like a word.” Draffar
could almost hear Haraway’s brain working, trying to figure out what disaster
could have possibly happened to elicit a visit from Crineal.

“Send
him in, Lieutenant,” came the voice after a short pause. “Don’t keep the
general waiting.”

Draffar
keyed open the door to the inner office and motioned for Crineal to precede
him. “This way, Sir.”

Haraway
was already standing when the pair of them entered the office. He saluted as
Lieutenant Draffar announced. “General Crineal, Sir.”

Crineal
returned the salute. “At ease, Commander.”

Haraway
relaxed slightly. “That will be all, Draffar.”

Draffar
saluted the lt. commander. “Yes, Sir,” and left the office, closing the door
behind him.

“Please,
General, take a seat. It’s an honor to see you.” Haraway waited until the
general was seated before resuming his own chair.

“Thank
you, Commander. I hope I’m not interrupting anything important?” Crineal
replied.

“Not
at all, Sir. It’s always a pleasure to be able to serve you.” Haraway was
hardly an ass kisser but he felt that Crineal deserved all the respect he could
give him. “Can I get you a drink, perhaps?”

Crineal
nodded. “Tea would be good. Thank you.”

Haraway
opened his comm. “Draffar, two cups of tea in here, if you please.” Then he
turned back to Crineal. “Now, Sir, what can Recreation Division do for you?
There isn’t a problem, I hope?” Haraway looked worried. He really did hope
Crineal didn’t have an issue with his section.

“No,
no problem, Commander. I just wanted to make a request.” He stopped as the door
behind him opened and Lieutenant Draffar entered carrying a tray with two cups
of hot tea, cream and sugar. The lieutenant placed them on Haraway’s desk.

“Anything
else, Sir?” he asked.

“Not
at the moment, Draffar, thank you.” He nodded to the door, dismissing the lieutenant.
Draffar saluted and left.

Haraway
waited until the general had added cream and sugar to his tea before fixing his
own. “Now, Sir, a request you say?” He couldn’t imagine what Crineal wanted, as
everyone knew he tried to stay away from the O-Rec as much as possible.

Crineal
sipped his tea. “Yes, Commander, I’d like to have one of the recreation assistants
assigned to me directly.”

Haraway
almost dropped his cup. Had he really heard that right? “An assignment, Sir?”
he said trying to get his head around the totally out of character request.

Crineal
looked at him. “It is still policy to assign recreation assistants upon request
of a senior officer, I assume?” Senior, in this case, meant lt. commander or
above.

Haraway
put his cup down hastily. “Of course it is, Sir, I was just…ummm. Let me bring
up the current senior assistants list so you can make your choice, Sir.” He
opened up a display and brought up the current O-Rec personnel list, the images
and data cascading onto the screen.

Crineal
coughed quietly. “Actually, Commander, I have someone in mind already.”

Haraway’s
face brightened. “Oh, that will make it so much easier. Do you have a name,
Sir?”

He
nodded, “Cyndora,” and took another sip of tea.

Haraway
punched in the name and then looked confused. “I’m sorry, Sir. I’m not getting
a match. Perhaps I didn’t spell the name right?”

Crineal
spelled it out. Haraway tried again. “No, I’m still not getting anything, Sir,”
he said in a puzzled tone.

“She
arrived in one of today’s consignments,” Crineal explained helpfully.

Haraway’s
face cleared instantly. “Ahh, that’s why I can’t find her records, her data
won’t have been processed and added to the regular lists yet.” He punched some
more keys and Cyndora’s face appeared on the display. Haraway started to read
through the information. “Yes, low risk, seems to be ok.” He stopped and looked
uncertainly at Crineal. “Uhh… she’s listed as standard service, Sir.”

Ergo,
much below the standard required to serve a general, Crineal thought. “Does
that present a problem, Commander?”