Quiet, this night cycle. I like to tour a ship when I am alone. This is my ritual. Tomorrow, she will be fitted with command staff and a crew. Tonight, however, I am one with this ship’s environment. It is quiet and I can feel the spaces, hear the pulse of the pipes and conduits. Then, I can discern the usual from the unusual. I will see to the sleeping pods, the dinning room, the gymnasium, the bridge — she is a medium-sized ship.
I choose not to, though I can also choose to fight. During the war against the Denlabby, I was on the front line. That is why the Confederacy wants to make me chief marshal. This is the position I like right now, now that I am older. Now, I find time to give something to The World, and to my world. I have been at the new training facility on Celoña the past five standard years, helping to train new warriors and marshals for the Confederacy. They say it is six steps to the world, and another twelve to the Confederacy. I hoped that I could set up the kind of training that will improve this interstellar, multicultural society. The Javier have their Tachyon Cloak. The Sagittae have their diplomacy. As for my people, we of Celoña … we will keep the peace.
The ship is very empty tonight. This night I am alone. It isn’t mine, and I prefer it like that. I am only Assistant Chief Marshal. I can do what I do best and not get weighted down with protocol. Ptaq!
My daddy had a look, one that he could call up anytime. It said, Back off and behave. Most often that was all he needed to stay out of a fight. As a child I was often teased. They thought I was a sissy because I chose not to fight. Too often, I was forced to prove them wrong. My daddy told me to always let them throw the first punch, and maybe throw another. You don’t need to let them hit you. Let them hit emptiness. They will become angry, loose focus, forget to be careful. He would say these things to me. He always had good advice. Yes, they hit emptiness … once, twice, and sometimes thrice. Then, they knew just what had hit them. I wanted them to stop challenging me. I suppose seeing someone, someone you love die makes one regret violence and appreciate the beauty in life.
Tired. It will take me a bit to get my space legs. And then … my antlers will go to hell. Fortunately I can dream a little. They are at their peek. I can feel the slight tingle that says the velvet is beginning to die. Some Celoñia take chemicals to help their antlers stay nice in space, away from planetary gravity. Ptaq! Even if I was not allergic to these enzymes, I would not. I have seen the results when the chemicals where out the body, and it breaks under the weight of gravity.
My first sparing teacher tried to get me to use my right hand for my sword. He soon gave up. My foster-sister showed me a thing or two. Then she took me to her teacher. The Sëom women are very practical and efficient, more so than my own Ventsoar folk. I think I learned a better martial art form from those two women than I ever could from my own folk. I suppose the teasing is what has made me more reserved in social circles, more thoughtful. Well, that would be a story for one better able to tell it.
I can see the point in assembling a crew whose complement is not all from the same world. It is somewhat like the days of old, when kings would adopt their rival’s sone, or marry the daughter. One is reluctant to war against a friend, and even less likely to fight against family. Most of this crew will have never worked together. Fewer have worked with aliens. That will make my job a bit difficult at first. But in time …. Well, as an old school teacher would say, That is a story for another day. Tonight, there is peace. When the shakedown cruise is finished, there will be peace again. Until then ….
This is my fifth tour on a research mission. There was a time when I felt that a dinning room was unnecessary, frivolous foofoo. Now, I see it as a valuable commodity. The crew form bonds and learn to trust each other. Differences of culture can be acknowledged, appreciated. The different species learn to cope with dissimilarities, and find similarities. As an added benefit, it also makes my job easier. A crew that trusts and bonds are less likely to commit crimes against each other.
My quarters. I prefer a personal pod, like the ones the crew gets. The Sagittae, however, like to assign larger quarters to larger ranks. I insisted on the smallest large room, and turned the extra into an office. A bed is good for sleeping. A room is only good for isolation. I prefer company. Keeps the mind active.
My people. When we are wronged, we Ventsoar will brood first, and then get cold revenge. I tried that, when my parents were killed by the Thermal Consortium. I was too young to do a proper job of it. My adoption by a Sëom family helped me to see the better road to vengeance. Now, they call me peacekeeper, or marshal. My revenge? To deny anyone the privilege of such a crime. No child should see their parents die, especially not the way mine did. Most are happy to see me. Some are not.
So, I make it a point not to lose control of myself. Perhaps that is where my people are really strong. It isn’t that we prefer a cold, calculated revenge. We just want to choose, and emotions can choose wrong. Our cousins, the Sëom, they blow up all in one burst. They relish it like that. No demons to haunt you. My foster parents never fully understood the Ventsoar way. Yet, it was they who helped me know a better way to cope. Maybe, we learned together.
The hum. I am near engineering. A ship is never really off, the engines are always warm. There are only two types of folk allowed into engineering, the Captain, and members of the Javier Guild. Secret places allow secret events to fester. The Javier are honorable people, mostly. This hum is a good one. The engines are healthy. I suppose some suspicion is good, especially in a marshal. Can there be too much? There is a story for that, later.
Rest. I am back at my suite. Most officers consider this room inadequate. Still, one sleeps in bed. Is there another reason for a room? I suppose I can practice my flute in here, undisturbed. I set my sword, badges, and issued side arm into their places. I’ll practice a little.
Strange, isn’t it? How the sound flows through an empty ship. Haunting, lonely, even a happy tune seems to want company. I am very tired. That is good. If I dream, maybe I won’t know, won’t remember …. Maybe.
The letter from my children. They are grown now. My daughter is at the Shre’læ School of Law and Philosophy. She wants to become a lawyer. My son wants to be a marshal like his ancestors. I suppose these are similar in their intent, upholding social order, and all that goes with it. I miss her, their mother. I expect to see her after the shake down.
The Dream. I’m a child again. Timid, reserved, amazed at the world. My mommy and I are laughing at my daddy’s antics. He wasn’t as formal with me as other fathers seemed to be. He’s dancing, graceful, broad theatric movements, humming some melody from an opera. He bows low to his beloved wife. She feigns shyness, then accepts, part of the role, I guess. They dance, dipping low, laughing. It was so much fun. His antlers were almost clean of velvet, her smaller ones were still just starting to fall off. What was that noise? He has her in a tight embrace, about to kiss. Their lips don’t meet. His head jerks up. The look of sudden pain is on his face. I laugh. He is always playing. Mommy’s also in pain. What is that green stuff, flowing from daddy’s back? I stop laughing. A part of me is in panic. A part of me says danger! The other part says they are still playing, still living it up. There is a hole in daddy’s chest so big, it goes into my mommy’s. I had never seen death until then. Mommy didn’t die so fast. She had an expression of sorrow when she looked at me, like she knew, I was completely alone now.
My father was a marshal, just as I am now. I am sure this is why I am a marshal now. He was investigating some criminal activities by the Thermal Consortium. Those they could not bribe, they killed, all in the name of greed. The Thermal Consortium is dead now. Life on Celoña is safe, now. I can live in peace. Accept for this … one … memory.
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