Standing near the back of the room a burly blond officer with gold pilot's wings stepped forward. He'd listened to the hard line introduction with the expressionless face he'd inherited from his ancestors.  It seemed the old man was going tough early, that might work or it might get the whole structure down around his ears.  In the meantime there was work to be done. "Sublieutenant Standarsson, chief pilot sir.  Will we be operating with any escort vessels during the mission?"  Also I would like permission to exercise the flight department with the small craft as they will be key in extending our sensor coverage and doing the dirty work of boarding and search."

"Lieutenant Commander Dinsha, Gunnery Officer," Sidare stated as she began.

"Captain, I am in the process of reviewing all personnel folders for the Gunnery Department and inspecting all weapon systems and screens,"  Dinsha added, a statement that was delivered with absolute confidence, despite the almost epic nature of the task.  Reviewing the personnel records for the 259 gunners on board the Sharshana would be a Herculean task, likewise visiting the 12 Fusion Barbettes, 20 Sandcaster Turrets, 68 Bean Laser Turrets, and 2 Point Defense Batteries (she'd already visited the Spinal Mount) - then there were the four missile pods with a dozen Medium Missile Bays and Triple Beam turrets each.  Perhaps the Lieutenant Commander didn't intend to sleep for the first few days aboard.

Indeed, she wasn't planning for anything other than cat naps for the next few days.  Sidare's default leadership style was 60% pacesetting & 40% coaching, though she frequently adapted that last fraction to the needs of her subordinates.  The pacesetting however, never stopped.

"I meet with my sub-section heads today and will develop a plan for weapon qualifications and cross training for all Gunnery enlisted personnel.  I'll have more to report in regards to systems and staff by tomorrow," she said before finishing.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:16, Mon 27 July 2020.

Now why the hell was he here! Colonel thought as the others began sucking up to the Captain.

He was neither a department head nor the senior officer. Then again... maybe he was. He'd reported in to the Chief when he boarded, but had yet to find his office... if he even had one. Any computer terminal told him where his quarters were but none of them could direct him to the Intelligence Department. Did that mean the ship didn't have one?

How long could he wander around the ship doing nothing before someone called him on it? Hmmm. Considering the size of the ship, probably 4 years!

He had no intention of saying anything. He wasn't a department head and he (sure hoped!) he wasn't the senior officer in the department. Besides, the last thing he wanted the Captain to know was his name.

Mammady knew damn well that he would be noticed.  At less than five feet tall with a head completely devoid of hair with the possible exception of eyelashes and with white gloves on both hands and feet, it was impossible that he would not be noticed so he may as well take the plunge.  "Captain, I am Lieutenant Mammady KaouthRAK, the Bridge Engineer.  My job is to fix things that go wrong with Bridge systems when they go wrong and without you having to go through the chain of command.  The Chief Engineer is in charge of the other engineers and systems on the ship.  She will introduce herself shortly.  Sir, In an ideal universe, we would come to the end of our tour with you believing that I am a lazy and pointless waste of space but somehow I doubt that will happen."

Since the captain did not forbade it, Iita recorded his speech on her personal assistant device, to pour on it later. She also recorded the other officer's introductions; it was a trick she learned years ago during her diplomatic mission, when there were so many people's names and titles to remember, plus protocol, and the risk of diplomatic incident. She took additional notes and did some research on the fly, eyes on the screen.

When the Baron demanded perfection, she repressed a sigh and mentally classified him as PADIU - Pain in the Arse Demanding Important User : the kind of person who does not understand that machinery have their own logic, demand, and time. She hoped she could handle His Impatiency, and resolved to be as strong-willed as Thenroy Reziilka, since this approach was probably the only way to earn the captain's respect. And have him abandon this preposterous quirk of stating your name and posting every time you addressed him - losing precious seconds in a emergency.

The threat to be dumped in the next port or station puzzled her. That would be a waste of experience and know-how. Better retrograde a person at fault : then, he or she is still useful, and eager to regain his position.

Iita noted that since the baron-captain wanted truthful communication, she'd have to give up the old "Scott's tactic" of claiming thrice as much time to accomplish a task, in order to be congratulated when it's done faster. However, not wanting to be  caught communicating wrong forecasts, the chief engineer resolved to give ample time slots projections.

When her turn came, lieutenant Tsetsegmaa introduced herself, and added matter-of-factually : "Though I have no doubt the base's engineers did an excellent work, I need some time to get to know the crew and the specifications of the ship, since she has been through so many changes. Even "trivial bullshit" that one could think could be fixed during deployment could have paramount consequences, if the crew does not know every chip of the ship's circuitry. Bonus trouble and delays if a breakdown happens, say, near the class D starport of Sestos - it'd better happen close to the Zheng naval base.
Also, this "Duke's cruiser" is "politically loaded" so to say, and we cannot rule out sabotage in the worst case scenario, or insufficient care at best.
That's why I'd request another 24-72 hours of tests and exercises near the station before our first jump." "Respectfully. Sir." she added.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:47, Tue 28 July 2020.

Sauli had been drinking coffee the med bay when the call for command staff to meet came through.  He rushed through the passageways and ladders of the Sharshana and made it to the briefing room with seconds to spare.

Captain Reziilka's second speech had been as hard-line as his first.  "Territorial pissing" his leadership instructor at OCS had called it - establish firm borders, both socially and professionally, first and foremost; one could always ease up later when they had the measure of their crew.  The captain seemed to be doing that but in such a bombastic way that Sauli made a mental note to check on when he'd last had a psych evaluation.  Not that he could access the contents of the review, it would just be reassuring to know someone had signed off on his fitness for command recently.

"Sublieutenant Dr. Sauli Lassila," he introduced himself when his turn to speak came. "I'm the Sharshana's medical officer.  I'm in charge of the crew's health and hygiene. I've only had time to make a cursory inspection of the ship's medical facilities, but I expect to have a full report ready tomorrow afternoon. I'll be making appointments with you all for your onboarding physical fitness exams if you hadn't had these done dirtside.  I expect to have these done in the next 72 hours.  I will also be inspecting the ship's life support facilities.  Lt. Tsetsegma, if you could spare one of your enlisted to assist me in this, I would appreciate it."
This message was last edited by the player at 14:13, Tue 28 July 2020.

Jacqueline had scampered into the briefing room out of breath, her arms full of tablets and papers full of astrogation calculations. Her uniform was in disarray, and after setting down her gear on the table she had fixed her uniform before the briefing began. She hung on the Captain's every word. She knew him, of course, but had never seen him in a military setting. It was easy to see how he projected authority and expected and demanded the best from his crew. That must be a vital trait of a successful captain. He was clearly impressive and in control. Any screwups in front of him would be mortifying. She looked visibly uncomfortable when the captain talked about cowing local systems, and fidgeted nervously. Things were more straightforward when he warned them not to lie to them. Honor was important to the nobility. Although there was something about it that nagged at her...

It was silly to introduce herself like Thenroy didn't know her already, but she drew herself up and smartly saluted anyways. "Sublieutenant Yune, sir. I'm the astrogator. I've already started looking at the calculations for likely jumps in our mission." she said formally. Actually, she did those sorts of calculations all the time, as an interesting intellectual exercise. But she hoped it might impress him. She wanted to seem like a serious soldier and a real go-getter, not a shy and rather intellectual girl out of place in the military. "We'll be ready to jump whenever you give the word." She wanted to say more, but what else was there for her to say? There was only one other astrogator under her command, and she'd have gladly done without him if it wasn't part of her duties. Not that she disliked him-she didn't know him enough for that- but she preferred to deal with her calculations alone. People were too complicated.
This message was last edited by the player at 08:31, Wed 29 July 2020.

As each crewmember speaks Captain Reziilka gives them a nod of acknowledgement and addresses each in turn. He does noticeably ignore his XO, however, not turning to the side to stare at him but instead continuing to bore his gaze down at all the officers in front of him.




"Sublieutenant Standarsson. We are not operating with any escort craft however there may be other naval vessels along our patrol that can provide assistance if necessary. Permission granted for active training of the smallcraft however you will need to fit it within our patrol schedule. This ship will require significant refueling efforts which should be an optimal time for training."




Lieutenant Commander Dinsha, I will expect that report tomorrow."

As the officers go around the circle there is a noticeable gap in the flow when it reaches the intelligence officer. When Colonel doesn't say anything the captain's brow furrows but he shifts his gaze past to the next officer in line.



"Lieutenant Kaouthrak, if you do not have anything to contribute beyond the chief engineer's assessment then you can be excused from these meetings."

It wasn't spoken as a reprimand but more as a challenge. Make yourself useful or do not waste my time.



"Lieutenant Tsetsegma, if you are concerned about being stranded work with navigation to suggest an alternative patrol route that would avoid us from being too isolated too early. I agree that requiring a tug back to port would be a poor first showing for our ship and our own competency. That being said your request is denied. You are authorized whatever overtime your engineers need but we will not delay our launch. We are the sword of the Imperium, not timid sheep and we will not fear the unknown. If you wanted safety and security the Navy is not the place for you. We will be loading supplies for another six hours and we can proceed to our first jump node at a reduced speed but we will make the jump within twenty four hours."




"Sublieutenant Lassila..."

The captain makes a point of dropping the doctor portion of the title. It is a minor point, possibly even petty, but one that stresses that the only thing that matters to him is Naval rank.

"...you have my full support on this. If any crewmember or officer shirks their physical they will report to me for a full reprimand. You cannot take care of this ship, its crew, or the Imperium if you cannot take care of yourself."



Reziilka gave a nod and was that a flicker of a smile at the corner of his mouth?

"Sublieutenant Yune, that is the kind of report I want to hear. I will send you the route that Naval Command has given to us and I will expect to hear your assessment by 13:00 hours. Meet me in my office and we can discuss things further."

Despite the promising start of his assessment of Yune, his tone took an unusually stern approach by the end. It was hard not to think of it as a disciplinary measure as opposed to the Captain just wanting a private meeting with one of his staff.

Jacqueline perked up on hearing that was the kind of report the Captain wanted to hear, but wilted when he seemed to be stern with her. "Yes sir, I understand" she said softly. Should I say that I'll be there? No, he would assume that.

Hrolf nodded; "Yes sir, I will work out a schedule with the executive officer for small craft training and evaluation.  I also recommend that we conduct at least one full wilderness refueling on our patrol route to test crew and ship."

In reply to Hrolf Standarsson (msg # 5):
OOC: Sorry this response is out of sequence.  I actually wrote it right after Hrolf put up his message, but when I went to post it, I kept getting those damned "Gateway Error" results.  Lucky I often write my posts off-line.  It just took me a couple days to get back here...


     About halfway down the conference table, an officer raises a white-gloved hand, and speaks,

     "That would be my division, Sir.  Small Craft Operations." says a smooth, cultured, male voice.

     "Lieutenant Ishakhi Kiikag Kimpasherki, chief of Small Craft Operations."

     The young officer--young being the operative word, as he looks to barely be in his mid-twenties--lowers his hand, placing it down atop his other hand, which is laid flat on the table.

     Though he is sitting, Ishakhi's trim figure is apparent.  He has a clear, swarthy skin tone and is  clean shaven, with a head of dark hair (dark chestnut brown, to be exact) and an indifferent hairstyle that only just falls within regulation length.  Amber-colored eyes gaze at the Captain, as Ishakhi makes his report.  Combined with the youthful appearance--and, of course, his name--his general appearance pretty much confirms that Ishakhi is Vilani.  And one with a relatively undiluted bloodline.

     His black formal Dress Uniform is tailored, as most Officer's uniforms are, but the cut of Ishakhi's uniform is just, subtly, "off" enough to be recognizable as the work of a fine Vilani tailor.  There are only a sparse few decorations and ribbons adorning his uniform breast, but one of them is the crossed flying missiles of a Combat Fighter Pilot--which is at odds with the silver-and-gold shoulder aiguillettes of a Staff Officer hanging from the right shoulder of his uniform.  (see illustration on Ishakhi's Character Description)

     "I can report that the Small Craft Operations division is at a state of ninety-five percent readiness for Launch.  All twenty-four division personnel have reported for, and been assigned to, duty."

     Ishakhi turns away from the Captain to look toward Hrolf, "Sublieutenant Standarsson, please send me a text of when you are available to discuss the scheduling of my pilots for your needs on the Bridge, and I will schedule a meeting with you, A-S-A-P.  Your offer of assisting with the planning of Small Craft training is, of course, much appreciated, Sublieutenant.  Thank you."

     Ishakhi turns back to The Captain.

     "Engineering division has assigned my division teams of flight engineers--all of whom have integrated with my people and equipment with smooth efficiency.  My compliments to the Chief Engineer and his people for their professionalism."

     "Currently, S-C-O personnel on the Command Bridge have taken over operations of Near Space Traffic Control around the Sharshana out to fifty kilometers--as is appropriate while still in Stardock.  The moment we clear the Dock area, we will increase our Traffic Control Zone out to two-hundred kilometers."

     "Thirty minutes ago a small intrusion into our Flight Control Zone was detected at the fifty kilometer range.  Boat Seven was quickly dispatched.  Just before this meeting I was informed that Boat Seven had rendezvoused with a mass of natural planetary debris massing approximately one-hundred fifty kilograms, travelling at eight-hundred K-P-H, relative.  Boat Seven was given authorization to use it's lasers to vaporize the piece of space junk, and is now ten minutes out from re-dock with the Sharshana."

     "Also, Sir, I am afraid that I must report that the Engineers in the Boat Repair Bay have informed me that they have replaced the Tertiary C-P-U on Boat Eleven three times in as many days.  Each time the unit burned out within twenty minutes of installation.  The Engineers do report that, at this time, they do not know the cause for these failures, but that they believe they can find a solution within the week.  I am also confident that they could, but as long as we are still here, in Stardock, I have rushed an immediate recommendation that Boat Eleven be declared an Engineering Casualty, to the Chief Engineer.  It is my hope that, if we move fast enough on this, Sir, we can get a replacement Ship's Boat before we need to leave Stardock."

     "Otherwise, Captain, the Small Craft Operations division stands ready for your commands."

"Understood Lieutenant. Engineering is going to need additional support during our shakedown run so put together a list of half your flight engineers that could be moved to support them. If that means limiting the size of launches then so be it. Once we shift from shakedown to patrol those engineers will be assigned back to your department and any support you need will be prioritized to get the smallcraft back into full operational shape.

At this time though the engineering needs of the Sharshana outweighs our need for smallcraft support. Prepare your list and submit it to the Chief Engineer for re-assignment."

Hrolf nodded to Lt. Kimpasherki. "Certainly sir, let me look over the ship's systems first and then we can find a good time to plot out the initial operations during the shakedown.  The sooner we integrate the ship with the small craft operations the better especially as we will be operating without escorts."

     "Of course, Sir.  I shall attend to it immediately." Ishakhi responds, with a nod of acknowledgement, to the Captain.

     Then Ishakhi turns to give a similar acknowledging nod to Lieutenant Tsetsegma, the Chief Engineer.  Only this time, when he nods to the Chief Engineer, Ishakhi makes sure that he turns his head far enough that the Baron cannot see that Ishakhi is also rolling his eyes.

     In doing so, Ishaki is letting Iita know that he recognizes that the Flight Engineers working on his Boats all actually work for her, and she is free to reassign them however she wants, whenever she wants--and therefore, he won't be sending her any such list.


     "Most of the time, Mister Standarsson, you can find me on the Command Bridge, overseeing Near Space Traffic Control." Ishakhi replies, with a tight little grin, "Otherwise, please feel free to just send a message to my work terminal."

     "I am very much looking forward to...speaking...with you."

Hrolf smiled in response to Lt. Kimpasherki.  "I would expect we'll be spending a good deal of time on the Command Bridge then.  It looks like there is a very nice set-up for Near Space Traffic Control.  I'm used to a Gazelle most recently.  The bridge itself is larger than my last ship."

When everyone else had gone, the Captain turns his gaze to Colonel with a note of irritation on his face.

He'd been daydreaming again... well, not exactly if you counted gambling as a valid method of intel gathering, which he did... so he hadn't quite realized that the others had all left, leaving him... alone... with the Captain.

The silence in the room, however, was deafening, and quickly roused him from his... reverie.

"Captain, sir, I have nothing to report... at this time," he said under the Captain's glare. "If and when I have something to report, I shall so report it... if I can."

The Captains irritation kicked up a notch.

”Are you incapable of following directions or were you just not paying attention? What was my very first directive?”

He didn't know, of course.

"I think you may have misunderstood me, Captain," Colonel responds. "What I have to report is that I have nothing to report. In my line of work, sir, that is a significant observation."

"I did not say anything while the others were here because my report was on a need-to-know basis. The rest of the crew does not need to know that there is nothing for me to report. This way, rather than think I'm incompetent, they'll now wonder what I have been telling the captain. When, in truth, I do not report about the crew. Not that I can't if that's what the Captain wishes, but that is not my primary area of focus."

"For all intents and purposes, that is the XO's job."

The captains simmer was boiling over.

”Who the fuck are you, crewman and why are you in this briefing room?”

"Exactly, Captain!" Colonel replies. "I was never here."

And he leaves the briefing room.

With his voice raised to ensure Colonel could hear Captain Reziilka alerted the ship’s marines of an intruder on board. Reziilka gave them the description and direction Colonel was going and asked for the intruder, when captured, to be brought to Airlock 3 for questioning and possible removal.

  Gvoellaekh quickly tapped the console in front of him a few times and, while giving it a stare so hard that the panel might be forgiven for shattering under the force, slowly pronounced the words, "That... was our Intelligence officer, sir. Lieutenant Colonel Blackjack Sun."

  His gaze shifted from the console to the recently-vacated doorway. "Erratic behavior apparently to be expected."

Reziilka leaned over to stare at the screen, a low rumble emanating from his throat.

"Erratic indeed. Maybe some time in the brig will teach him..."

His comm flashed with a message and Reziilka cursed again when he looked at it.

"The admiralty is denying our request on lots six through ten. That is half our missile capacity what are they thinking?"

He looked up at the hallway Colonel turned down and then turned away.

"Gvoellaekh, cancel the marines. I'll be in my office. Just...take care of him."

The captain stood up and stormed out of the room gearing up for a fight with high command bean counters and bureaucrats.

  "...yes, sir." The pause was notable as Gvoellaekh took in the topical siz-zag and tapped away at the screen to - presumably - cancel the alert, among whatever else he was doing.

  Then he looked back up and surveyed the gathering before him by way of a slow sweep of his eyes and ears from one side to the other, his expression... well, not quite a frown, but certainly focused.

  "We'd better get ready for the trials, unless there's anything else."

  He paused for a beat in case there was anything else, and if there wasn't...

  "Dismissed."