For Queen and Consortium

[Camile Saccard]

Camile rose at the Admiral's words, acknowledging his command with an incline of her head. Her gaze lingered on him. Male, with one eye missing, the deformity marring what was already an unattractive face. He was fortunate to have been born outside of the Cluster; had he been Hapan born, Vansen Tyree would almost certainly have been dead - and yet here he was, in a position of authority in the largest known fleet in the Galaxy.

Before the room could be fully vacated, Saccard looked to her new commanding officer, the latest in a parade of affronts. He, at least, seemed to have no interest in attempting to converse in the Hapan tongue.

"Captain," she approached Quez, waiting until a few of the other briefing attendees had either filed out of the room or knotted together, to discuss unknown matters.

"A moment. I would like to inspect our vessel."

[Jaden Luka]

The exchange of information had happened so fast that Jaden was already slowly finding his feet before things started to process. Jaden had sat across a table or a briefing room from Vansen Tyree enough times to pick up on the subtle tells in his expression, particularly that special brand of I'm pissed off, but not at you, and I can't really bitch about it out loud scowl that had made a showing pretty much any time back in the old Wheel days when the Jedi had decided they wanted to do something strategically stupid.

This time it was politics though, not Jedi: that much even Jaden could piece together. Part of him wondered if recommending Vansen Tyree as the Admiral charged with protecting a planet full of petty bureaucrats and sanctimonious Senators was some kind of failed joke that the people involved were too embarrassed to bail out on; how Tyree had lasted this long without proton bombing Bothawui from orbit to shut them all up was a mystery.

Another time's mystery, though. Now there were more pressing concerns; concerns that activated Jaden's autopilot. Without so much as a thought, Jaden found himself defensively poised at Cirrsseeto's side, arms folded defensively across his chest, eyes locked sternly on the nasty case of Herpes Consortium the bigwigs on Bothawui had apparently decided to infect them with. I would like to inspect our vessel, his inner monologue echoed, sarcasm layered liberally on top of the woman's words. Who the blazes did she think she was, strutting up to her new Captain without so much as a hello, and with the gall to presume she had the right to inspect anything. With any luck, Captain Quez would nominate Tink to show her around. An hour or so with Commander Crankypants would serve her right.

"What was your name again?" Jaden said before Cirrsseeto had an opportunity to speak, his mind too caught up in contemplating this would-be usurper to worry about protocol or politeness. Sure, becoming the Novgorod's executive officer hadn't exactly been his first choice, but he was here now, and he was settled; some pompus tart from frilly coat land didn't get to step in and smush him back down the ladder without him at least getting a shot or two in. "I know the Admiral mentioned it earlier, but you didn't seem important enough for me to bother paying attention at the time."

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

It was happening too fast. Cirrsseeto needed to talk to Admiral Tyree about this insanity, but the old man seemed to realize that talk was incoming, and was working to adjourn the meeting and get out of the blast radius. And then Commander Luka and the Hapan woman lodged him in a quagmire. Saccard, with her blunt roughshod question. Luka, opting for more indirect offense.

I'm going to have to sort these two out came the realistic appraisal of the situation. Cirrsseeto dreaded that inevitability.

"Captajin Saccarrd, thjis jis mjy executjive, Commander Jaden Luka."

He placed a hand at Jaden's shoulder.

"He would be happy to gjive you a tourr of Novgorrod."

Blue eyes cast sidelong at Jaden with an implicit he'd better be happy note shared between the two. It was there and gone for a moment, and Cirrsseeto regarded his new officer with neutrality again.

"You must excuse me. jI have busjiness wjith Admjirral Tyree."

Before he could fully excuse himself from the two, Cirrsseeto's hand moved down to Jaden's upper arm, pulling him just slightly beyond earshot, so that he could share a word privately with his second.

"jI rrealjize we'rre both jin an uncomforrtable sjituatjion, Jaden. jI need you to handle jit ljike a prrofessjional."

Which meant, under no uncertain terms, Cirrsseeto wasn't going to tolerate any more shots across the bow. This was going to end before it began.

[Jaden Luka]

Like a professional.

Jaden's jaw clenched a little at that. He knew what Cirrsseeto meant: he wanted Jaden to be diplomatic; wanted him to play nice. But the accusation that he was being unprofessional? His skin bristled in reaction.

No sir, his subconscious urged him to counter. I'm being a gorram fighter pilot.

And that was the heart of the problem, wasn't it? The hypocrisy that lurked underneath. Jaden was here because of his service record in the Starfighter Corps. His experience and his status with Rogue Squadron was what put him on the right scopes for a command position. His quick thinking and adaptability, his squadron-like camaraderie with the crew, was what made him such an effective XO on a ship as small, close-knit, and overlapping as the Novgorod. Being a pilot was why he was here; but there was no tolerance of the rough with the smooth. Stop it, was the instruction being given. You're not being Navy enough.

Once again, Jaden felt the acute sting of being here, the reluctant tug away from the cockpit and squadron life, where everything was so much simpler. Maybe that was what this was all about. Maybe Command had decided that Jaden's appointment was a mistake, and now Admiral Tyree was manoeuvring a potential replacement into position. Maybe that was for the best; maybe a return to a simpler status was just what the Doctor - or perhaps even the Captain - had secretly ordered. It shouldn't have come as such a surprise, not really: after all, hadn't this been Jaden's secret doubt all along? Wasn't the concern that nagged at the back of his mind, the sleep-disrupting notion that he buried under layers of swagger and self deception, his secret fear that this was all some elaborate mistake that someone would one day come along to correct?

Jaden's posture straightened, every hint of his usual charm and optimism draining his face into a stoic mask - one that even Admiral Tyree would have been proud of.

"Aye, sir," he replied, with a curt nod to his Captain.

Professional. Right. Prepare yourself to exit gracefully.

[Camile Saccard]

To Camile's mild surprise, Captain Quez was quite well-mannered. The same could not be said for his executive officer, however. Her eyes flicked up and down the length of Jaden Luka, lingering for a moment on the scruff that spread over his jaw like an unruly moss.

“Commander. Lead the way.”

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

Pushing onward past his XO, Cirrsseeto moved through the adjourning meeting, brushing past Commander Akiena and a few other joint commanders.

"Admjirral. Admjirral Tyrree."

He knew Vansen heard him. He wasn't going to let the Admiral go without a moment of one-on-one.

[Vansen Tyree]

Vansen didn't flee. He wanted to; wanted this to be someone else's problem, wanted the blame and the conversations to land in the lap of those who deserved to be on the receiving end of it. It was the absolute worst part of military service. Some said it was the life-or-death decisions, the make-or-break calls, or all the times when your morality got placed up on that dusty shelf in the back of your mind, out of the way until the job gets done. But that wasn't it, not for Vansen Tyree. For him, the worst part was finding himself as the middle link in a chain: neither the initiator of a decision, nor the one bearing the repercussions of it; just the conduit through which bureaucratic delegation flowed. Asking something of your subordinates on your own behalf, because of your own decisions? That was something you learned to live with. You learned to cope with the guilt that came from that: bundled it up and wore the weight of it across your heart beneath the medals that they pinned on you for making tough choices. But this was a different guilt, displaced and disconnected, one stirred together with a hint of anger, and a seasoning of sympathy. It was the kind of situation that made a man feel powerless, and that was a sensation that Vansen could not abide.

He gave a not do Commander Inirial, dismissing the intelligence officer, trusting him to subtly usher the rest of the meeting away so that he and Cirrsseeto could be afforded an iota of privacy. For a moment, Vansen allowed himself to try and contemplate the minds of those who'd chosen Captain Quez of all people to benefit from the gracious presence of a Hapan officer aboard his ship. He couldn't quite stave off the notion that there was something personal involved: not directed towards the Captain, of course, but rather his mother. A collateral reprisal from those who couldn't inconvenience Senator Meorrrei directly, perhaps; or an opportunity to prime the Senator's son for failure and undue scrutiny, political sabotage in the making. It made his skin crawl, to think that he could be so easily dragged into those kinds of games. But this is what you get when the Minister of Defense plays by Bothan rules, he quietly mused - a thought that he kept firmly to himself.

"The orders come from Bothawui," Vansen pre-empted, cutting straight to the heart of the matter as Cirrsseeto approached. "I'm just the intensely reluctant messenger."

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

Where to even begin. Cirrsseeto drew in a breath, then mentally reined in his voice to a volume for discretion. He was hot under the collar, but the last thing he needed was to show it.

"Admjirral, jI've got enough crrew shorrtages forr the junjiorr enljisteds. jI've pulled everry earr that jI thought would ljisten about that. What jI have, among otherr thjings, jis a capable XO. What am jI supposed to do wjith thjis Saccarrd woman? She's a squarre peg."