Seabourne was up late again in his cabin. He was taking full advantage of the projection features of his desk to make layout adjustments to Wanderlust, the inflight magazine for Orbital Spa and Cruise. The publication was the raison d'etre for his White Spa Lines division, as his recently established contacts in Gallia would say. Corporate gave the Wanderlust more free reign to find interesting stories across Sirius and publish them in the hopes of drumming up more business. As director of White Spa Lines, Seabourne held the office of Editor-in-Chief ex officio. By necessity, he was also the publication's main reporter, writer, photographer, publisher, delivery boy, and anything else it needed. Corporate had given him permission, not funding or staff, but Seabourne made the best of it. It was a passion project that brought him joy, as did captaining the Breezewood and being an OS&C Director, so he didn't feel the weight of all the hats he wore. Yet.
A chime at the door interrupted his thoughts. "Enter," said the captain without looking up from his table. The door opened, spilling the light of the hallway into the cabin illuminated only by the bluish light reflected off of planet Manhattan through the captain's window. First Officer Oldham entered followed by second officer Schwarz. They stood on the other side of the captain's desk as Seabourne looked up from his layout. With a swipe across the desk, the projections disappeared, the door closed, and the lights turned back up. "Who has the bridge?" The captain's first thoughts were always of his ship, especially when the three watch officers were gathered together.
"Yakamochi is currently covering my watch," said Oldham. There was nervousness in her voice, her face oddly blank and frozen as if it was being held in place by deliberate effort rather than her natural formality. "Ship's log properly notes that he relieved me at 1:30."
Seabourne blinked and looked at his wrist watch, an archaic throwback given that he could bring up the time along with myriad other useful information on the enhanced contacts he usually wore. His lenses were currently recharging, but he preferred to wear the watch even when out on patrol. "I bled into my sleeping shift again. Time got away from me, I wanted to put the last touches on Wanderlust since the Navy is now moving on this unfortunate business with the Reverie-"
"Captain," the Rheinlander interrupted firmly but gently. His blue Nordic eyes betrayed more concern than the reserved features of his Bretonian colleague. "We're not here as whatever the opposite of a wake-up call is."
Seabourne cocked his head, confused for a moment. "Then I suggest we all have a seat." He gestured to the two other chairs in front of him, a rare luxury for crew quarters aboard an OS&C liner. The other two officers shared a joint office in their suite. It was a source of friction between the orderly Oldham and the casual Schwarz. In the end, Schwarz learned to tidy up after he was done. "Can Mat handle bridge duty? He's not a watch officer."
Oldham settled into her seat while Schwarz moved to the captain's bar. "Matsuo has completed all relevant training and scored exceptional in communications and logistics and good in everything else except for evasive maneuvers and astrogation where he only scored acceptable."
Schwarz chimed in from across the room, "Given that we are currently moored and taking on passengers and cargo, I doubt his weaknesses will come into play in the next hour or so." He handed the captain a drink and settled into his chair across the desk with its twin. The captain took an experimental sip. Whiskey. Vermouth. Bitters. A Manhattan, the traditional welcoming drink offered to Socialites leaving New York Space aboard Breezewood, though admittedly most quickly flocked back to their familiar Liberty Ales in front of the ships perpetually disappointed bartenders.
Seabourne nodded his thanks, "Seems like a perfect choice then, Kendra." The captain always made it a point to give appropriate specific praise to his crew. "So why do you need to squirrel away an hour with all three watch officers at once?" He directed his question to the superior officer, but she hesitated for a moment and Schwarz jumped in. "Captain, we have some concerns-"
"I was not addressing my question to you, Second Officer Schwarz." Seabourne interrupted Florian far less gently but no less firmly than the Rheinlander had done earlier. "First Officer Oldham," Seabourne sat back straight in his chair as the tone turned formal. "Why have you called this meeting?"
Oldham sat up a little straighter herself, but she seemed to draw more strength from the formal tone. She felt as much at ease with titles and last names as Schwarz felt with his drinks and loosened top button. "Both second officer Schwarz and myself have concerns about what happened near Fort Bush earlier."
"We were assisting the Liberty Navy in catching an artifact smuggler. We are a Liberty chartered corporation in her captial system. Should I have denied the request?"
"I am not advocating that we resist cooperating with the authorities," retorted Kendra. "But you went out of your way to volunteer the Breezewood's services. Lt. Sawyer has told us to run and hide in the past when the situation escalated. He would not have asked us to risk the ship without some strong convincing by her captain."
"She thinks you were fishing for a good story for Wanderlust," said the second officer between sips, "and so do I. If I had wanted to arrest artifact smugglers, I would have joined the military back home in Stuttgart."
"We were running empty," replied the captain, "no passengers were in danger."
Florian replied, "I'm sure the 500 souls aboard-" "530" corrected Oldham. "...530 still aboard will be pleased to know you considered them empty. Not all of your crew was thrilled to be risking our lives for Liberty."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop a few degrees though Seabourne knew life support was working well. Liberty and Rheinland had fought a destructive border conflict not too long ago. It was likely that Florian had friends in the Rheinland Military that never made it back. Seabourne knew he had a few on his side. OS&C painted itself as an inter-house corporation, part of the reason its officer corps was so diverse was due to house-based affirmative action. It ensured that all houses had skin-in-the-game when it came to negotiating treaties and work visas for the corporation. Still, even the most cosmopolitan globalist never forgot where they were born. Seabourne turned back to Oldham.
"I don't recall these objections when we dove into an active warzone to assist BAF with the evacuation of Leeds. If memory serves we took heavy fire from Gallic patrols. Some of us had OS&C ships shot out from under us helping those Bretonians."
Oldham held the captain's gaze through sheer force of will. She was the one who had pleaded for Seabourne to make one last pick-up in the shuttle Day Tripper to get another 500 souls off world before the Gallic Royal Navy glassed the planet. An exhausted Seabourne had agreed and had gotten sandwiched between two patrols in orbit while transferring the refugees from the shuttle which could handle clandestine atmospheric landings to various liners in orbit which could not. Seabourne had survived, the shuttle had not. Up until now, the captain had never given any indication that he blamed Kendra for the incident.
Florian replied, "That was different. You had stripped the ship down. The only ones aboard were officers who agreed to it. We were willing to risk everything to save those on Leeds. You did not ask the dancing girls if they were ready to risk being killed to stop an artifact smuggler."
Oldham added on, "Half the luxury fleet engages in artifact exchanges." Not smuggling, facilitating exchanges. Several corporate pamphlets and the impressive OS&C legal team were quite clear and insistent on the distinction. Seabourne started to open his mouth but Kendra anticipated his next argument. "Not White Spa Lines, I know, we're the boyscouts of the fleet and the public face of the corporation." The corporate jargon almost seemed natural coming out of her mouth. "But the fact remains that OS&C profits off of the artifact trade, and I find it hypocritical to risk the lives of the crew to arrest a single smuggler when we as a company facilitate the actions of entire syndicates."
"For all we know," said Florian, "the poor bastard was on his way to deliver it to an OS&C contact."
That one cut Seabourne to the quick. Rising through the ranks, he turned a blind eye to a lot of the less-than-legal activities aboard the ships he served on. He put a stop to it once he was in charge, but even he didn't wear the right hat to ban it outright throughout the fleet. Looking around, he briefly wondered how much of Breezewood's construction had been financed by hauling contraband. If Curacao's accountants were worth what they were paid, he doubt even a thorough investigation would let him find out.
"All right, you've made your case. The next time the sheriff comes looking for deputies, we'll politely decline." Florian raised an eyebrow. "He's conceding the point," informed the Bretonian. "Sheriff's are a special type of law enforcement with the power to deputize civilians to temporarily help." "Ah," said the second officer, "We do not have this in Rheinland. We tend to leave such things to qualified professionals." "And it seems," said Seabourne, "so will we. Anything else?"
"No sir," said Schwarz and Oldham in unison.
"Very well then. Thank you, Kendra, for bringing this to my attention. And thank you, Florian, for the drink." The Rheinlander finished his off before rising from his seat. "I am always happy to lighten your cargo allowance when it comes to your bar, cap-i-tan." The second officer rose and placed his glass in the sink on his way out the door. Oldham started to rise to follow him.
"Just a moment, Kendra. If you think Mat is up for another hour of bridge duty, there are a few things I would like to discuss with you."
