This post is inspired by a writing prompt in the Worldbuilding Community - Worldbuilding Prompt #560 - Fear, uncertainty, doubt: FUD
It's the next part of the space opera tale of Alex Deroma, which I must admit I've been struggling with. She's one of my favourite characters, but I'm not sure I'm doing her justice with this saga, so this prompt applies to me as much as it does to the story !
"I don't know if I can do this, Trass."
Alex Deroma slumped at her desk, her uniform jacket thrown off into the corner of the stateroom in a fit of frustrated temper, her face set in a downcast expression of total defeat.
"Everything I try goes wrong. I create exercises for the fleet. The first one to demonstrate it to the whole Battle Corps goes fine. Then when I ask them to put it into practice across all units, it's a total screw-up. Am I asking too much of the Legion Commanders, or are they deliberately messing it up to get me removed from command ?"
Trass Yalandri watched from across the chamber, feeling as frustrated as Alex. She was the fleet X.O.; Alex was her commander, her friend and her lover. But all Trass could do was let her keep talking until she wound down. It had to get out of her system.
"Then... " Alex continued, frustration turning to anger, "Then they have the absolute bloody cheek to send me... this !"
The this in question was a comm-slate. A real physical communication. The energy used in materialising them meant they were reserved for the most important matters, things that couldn't just be handled in a 3V call. And right now, the this was being flung across the room to bounce off the ceiling and then the far wall.
The impact triggered it's activation switch. It flipped open and a life-sized holographic figure appeared. Unfortunately, the slate wasn't laid flat on the floor as it should have been, so the figure appeared at a crazy forty five degree angle tilted into the room. It spoke.
"This is BrownASP-General Jarven, speaking on the direct authority of ASP Lady-Leader Saria Reditran. Imperial GHQ have been monitoring events in your command, and are dissatisfied. They have concluded that your command has either been infiltrated by Confed agents or is affected by significant negligence. A BrownASP investigator has been despatched to investigate and resolve the issue. They will join you within twenty four hours."
Trass sighed. This wasn't good. Now she understood why Alex was so beaten down. BrownASP were terrifying, and an investigator would have no hesitation in ending her career or worse if they thought her conduct was anything less than exemplary.
"Alex, I know this isn't easy, but you are the best person for this post. Welding the survivors of a hundred smashed units into a new Battle Corps is an impossible job. But you've been doing it. You've come up with new tactics, a new way of doing things. It's bound to take time and ruffle some feathers. But things will turn out okay, I know it."
Alex looked up at her, trying to hold back tears. "I'm sorry Trass. I hope you're right. But all I can do is keep up a front for the fleet and hope this ASP investigator doesn't just cashier us both and dump us off at some backwater bar like a pair of derelict spacers."
"I think for now that I'm going to have the rest of the evening off. I'm going to get very, very drunk and deal with it all tomorrow. You can help me."
She hit a button on the desk and opened the compartment it released, pulling out two glasses and a large bottle of Filamnian whisky.
Image created by AI in Wombo.art
The russet-coloured shuttle came to rest in the Moonfall's landing bay. Whoever this ASP investigator was, Alex thought, he's got taste in transports. It was the latest model Passault VI-X; a far cry from the original design as an armed drop ship, this was sleek, graceful, blisteringly fast and capable of travelling anywhere, not just restricted to planetary operations.
The side door swung up silently, and Alex, Trass and half a dozen other officers snapped to attention as the investigator stepped out.
Alex felt her heart sink as she saw him. A full brigadier, which meant that despite the nominal disparity in rank he was actually authorised to do anything he wanted. His uniform matched the russet brown of the shuttle, and was immaculate. His face had the expression of someone who was severe and permanently unamused. She knew the type; judgemental, harsh, and utterly convinced of their own superiority.
The man saluted, and presented a comm-slate with his orders and accreditation.
"BrownASP Brigadier Garrad. I'm here to find out what the hell has been going on, and fix it."
Image created by AI in Wombo.art
He looked around at the assembled officers, and then back to Alex. "You can dismiss the decorations," he said with a twist of the lips, "It's you I want to talk to first."
Alex nodded, and the other officers started to move away. "Not you, Trass. Brigadier Garrad, this is my X.O., Trass Yalandri. I'd appreciate if she could stay, she usually has something worthwhile to contribute to any discussion."
Garrad nodded, and for the first time Alex detected a slight softening in his expression.
"I know. I've read your personnel files. I know how intimidating my face looks. Sorry, I was born that way, but it comes in useful. Whatever is going on, I already know you two have been fighting like the devil to make things work. You're unconventional and a fighter. Lady-Leader Saria seems to like that, so I'm here to make sure you succeed."
"Now, let's get straight down to your stateroom and we can start by going over the senior officers' files together over a glass of ....Filamnian whisky, isn't it ? Oh, and bring your magpie. Those birds are shockingly good judges of character."
To be continued.....
Previous parts of Alex's Saga;
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
The First Saga, the Tale of Fedric - Final Part - with links to all the previous parts.