Emotionally & Ethically Compromised

May 25, 2009 on 11:17 pm | In SS-ERD, Serial Story | No Comments

Via the on-board tracking console located next to the lift, Neve located Grigori Enchev on the engine deck. She debated whether she should go to him or issue a summons to her station. Neither option afforded privacy but she refused to grant him access to her private quarters. Even West, whom she both liked and admired, was unwelcome there. Worrying her bottom lip, she tapped a series of access codes into the console and cross-referenced a floorplan of the systems deck with the ship’s heat map. A block of cold space drew her eye.

There. The spacious meeting room reserved for target-world representatives was equipped with both mediascreens and consoles to access the Mercy’s internal operations. She rerouted her course and headed for the meeting room. Halfway there, she touched the tiny transmitter at her ear and said, “Commander Enchev, please meet me at TWR immediately.”

He responded as soon as she released the transmitter. “Can’t. I’m currently occupied. Ma’am.”

Gritting her teeth, she smiled amiably at a passing colleague and said to Enchev, “Delegate. Your attendance is not optional.”

“Commander, I cannot in good conscience abandon my current post. If this is about–”

“Do not,” she interrupted, cutting through his transmission, “presume to weigh my responsibilities against yours. I’m waiting.”

Neve removed the transmitter from her ear and tucked it in a small pocket sewn into the sleeve of her uniform. Enchev would meet her, if for no other reason than her lack of response to his next objection. She palmed the identilock outside the meeting room and stepped in, voicing a command for the door to remain unlocked. While she waited for Enchev, she powered up the media screens and dialed into news feeds from six planets already under attack by plague. Tickers scrolled across the bottom of every screen, translating the speakers’ native languages into Galactic Standard.

Neve closed her ears to the frantic words. She understood three of the speakers without reading the translation. The reports were all similar. Planet populations dying in entirety. Immuno-chem supplies insufficient. Bandits attacking distribution crews because their sectors were not on the list of areas to receive the antidote.

Enchev appeared in the door. Neve glanced up from the Mercy console, which displayed statistics for rate of travel, estimated arrival time calculated for half a dozen different contingencies, and an approximation of lives saved and lives lost should the Mercy reach New Juneau early, on time, or too late. She sent the data to the large screen spanning the wall at her back. Enchev’s focus shifted from her to the data displayed behind her.

“Sit,” Neve said. “We are going to discuss consequences.”

The young engineer’s jaw tightened. “Commander, I–”

“Allow me to rephrase. I am going to explain outcomes. You are going to sit and listen. Am I clear?”

He nodded stiffly and took the chair at the opposite end of the room’s single long table.

Neve met his eyes. “We are currently traveling 40 parsecs per standard hour. In order to reach New Juneau before plague, we need to go faster. We have the means to increase our speed and shorten our time frame. Successful interception will mean a planet’s population lives, the galactic economy remains on course, and the Mercy’s crew receives commendation. Commendation,” she added, aware of Enchev’s youth and hoping to target his sense of ambition, “increases each crew member’s value. Increases your value.”

Enchev scowled. “Some would say my value lies in my commitment to stand my ground in the face of unwise orders.”

“Would they?” She sat back in her chair, genuinely perplexed, surprised off course. “Others would say commitment to stand your ground translates into insubordination, which decreases your value. Those are the people who matter.”

“Regardless, I continue to disagree with the wisdom of taking the Mercy into absolute quiet. Ethically–”

“Your job is not ethics. Leave ethics to your superior officers, who have the benefits of experience and wider perspective. Your job is maintaining the medical systems. Do your job, and doors will open, granting you access to other positions if you decide you want them.” She muted the media screens. Worlds’ tragedies obviously did not affect him, and they sawed at her nerves, left her too emotionally invested in Enchev’s cooperation. While his job was not ethics, neither was hers emotions. “Medical has assured me the crew will be unaffected by a temporary shut-down. We do not currently carry any patients in quarantine. Defense has not indicated the Mercy faces any danger from external forces. We are currently in the most peaceful state we will likely see again in the near future. Now is the time to implement upgrades. Power down, Enchev. You are dismissed.”

His expression spoke of an argument but he rose without comment and left the room.

Neve propped her elbows on the table and hung her head in her hands. Her shoulders ached. All the tension relieved by her earlier encounter with West had returned during the brief meeting. Tightness pulled at her neck and lower back, and the build of adrenaline from the end, when she’d dismissed him and anticipated argument instead of acquiescence, flushed her skin hot. She closed her eyes, blew out a breath. So much easier to take orders than give them.