Patrick Steward’s Memorandum
Arunisiir Starport, 033–034 1107
Compiled for the record, with reluctance.
It appears that the party’s third consecutive day aboard the Martin II was, from all reports, as industrious as it was morally ambiguous. I was not present for the majority of the activities described below, which is just as well, as it spared me the necessity of pretending not to notice certain behaviours that would have earned sharp words in any properly run ship.
I am told that Miss Deanna – whose mechanical competence is undeniable, though her imagination occasionally runs ahead of her judgement – took a professional interest in the Martin II’s life-support systems. This interest extended, I gather, to determining whether the circulation system might be repurposed for the delivery of a “debilitating gas.”
I will refrain from comment, save to note that on the So Much For Subtlety our life-support systems exist solely to keep the crew alive, alert, and punctual. I should require that any other application would demand a properly-minuted meeting, a written proposal, and at least one raised eyebrow.
Dr Parsifal, meanwhile, appears to have conducted what I am assured was a therapeutic conversation with the treasure ship’s launch pilot, Ms Henshaw. This resulted in her confession – freely given, amid tears – that she is being blackmailed by the pirate Irontooth through threats to her child.
I am informed this revelation was received with sympathy, professionalism, and was in no way a resaponse to improvisational use of cutlery by the good doctor, who appears to have reached a turning point in his life of late.
Miss Anastasia’s attention seems to have been divided between alleged documents, suspicious inquiries regarding Tech World, and the unsettling realisation that half the ship’s senior crew appeared to be thinking very hard indeed about vaults. At lunch, she is said to have engaged in what can only be described as conversational baiting of the astrogator, Osha – discussing sensitive operational matters loudly while simultaneously rifling through the poor woman’s surface thoughts.
I understand that Osha reacted with alarm, guilt, and a fixation on removing “something” from the vaults at Tech World. I can only assume this “something” is not a set of our misplaced teaspoons, because if it were, I should press for Dr von Edelsburg to return to his less tolerant approach of former years.
Dr Parsifal later encountered a tense gathering involving Crewman O’Leary and Marine Jen Laral, who fell conspicuously silent upon his approach. This silence was broken only by the revelation – obtained with commendable tact – that the vault will not open until the ship reaches Tyokh, and then only with the captain’s physical presence, key, and DNA.
I am pleased to note that our own safe does not involve this degree of theatricality. It opens when authorised and remains closed when not, which is the correct behaviour for vaults, safes and other similar devices.
A Marine Sergeant named Harc – whose cranial jack Dr Parsifal had earlier repaired – expressed paranoia regarding the presence of psionics aboard the ship – a suggestion that caused a sharp intake of breath from his interlocutor – but laid the blame squarely at the feet of the Zhodani. Having noticed this pattern amidst conspiracy enthusiasts, I presume that the next escalation shall be the presence of the Ancients in the forward quarters.
Miss Deanna was later summoned to the bridge, where she encountered Captain Torsa in a state of visible insecurity. Demonstrating considerable social grace, she addressed him as “Sir” and “Captain” with sufficient frequency to restore his self-esteem. The result was an expansion of the party’s clearance to nearly the entire ship.
I note, with professional admiration, that flattery remains one of the most efficient tools in the armoury of those dealing with their intellectual inferiors.
That evening, both Captain Timaeus and Dr Parsifal observed a trader named Aparo taking surreptitious photographs of the So Much For Subtlety, the Shinkiro, and the Martin II.
I dislike surreptitious photographs. They are rarely flattering and never innocent.
On 034-1107, matters briefly improved.
The Imperium close escort Arshad arrived to resupply, and her captain, Johann Burghof, requested permission to visit the So Much For Subtlety. I was present for this engagement, and can therefore state with confidence that standards were upheld.
Captain Burghof explained – very politely – that he wished to avoid awkward questions of precedence between the Imperium Navy and our own service, whose lineage he was gracious enough to acknowledge extends back some two thousand years. I found this refreshingly sensible.
He expressed warm admiration for the actions at Acrid and Argona and displayed an enthusiasm for the details of the Argona cutting-out operation that bordered on the affectionate. He asked after logistics, boarding procedures, and sequencing, and listened with the intensity of a man who appreciates a well-executed plan.
He further mentioned, in confidence, a loose fraternity of senior and retired naval officers based around Empire, who view Drinax as a potentially stabilising force against Aslan expansion. I mention this only because it is gratifying to hear such things said aloud, rather than muttered in corridors.
Captain Burghof also proposed – rather eagerly – that if Irontooth were indeed hunting the Martin II, then perhaps the hunters might themselves be hunted. He envisaged a joint action involving Imperium assets, the treasure ship, and ourselves, resulting in “a damnably glorious fight” and an appreciable improvement in Drinax’s standing.
I made a mental note to polish the railings on the Captain’s bridge walkway.
Most importantly – and here I am guilty of saving the best for last – Captain Burghof turned out to be a connoisseur of starship internal design and decoration, expressing admiration for the interior of the So Much For Subtlety. What a joy to see ability, discretion and impeccable taste in a single human vessel.
While this was occurring, Anastasia and Dr Parsifal confronted Purser Vaughn. Under questioning – augmented by psionic intrusion, which I shall not dignify with further description – it became clear that Vaughn is attempting to place a forged treaty into the vault at Tech World, believing this will secure him a life of leisure courtesy of GeDeCo.
I am continually amazed at the optimism of dishonest men regarding the honesty of others.
At lunch, Dr Parsifal spoke privately with Astrogator Osha, who displayed compulsive attention to the backs of her hands. With professional sensitivity, he drew out her fear that a genetic flaw might manifest, leading to social exile and the loss of her future family prospects. She believes she will soon have sufficient funds to correct this at Tech World.
I sincerely hope she does. As one raised above the petty tyranny of genetics, I feel that genetic misfortune is quite enough without pirates, conspiracies, and forged treaties complicating matters.
In summary:
The Martin II is a ship in distress, captained by a peacock, crewed by frightened people, infiltrated by at least three groups of conspirators, and residing upon a system in which entirely too many parties are paying attention.
By contrast, the So Much For Subtlety remains clean, orderly, and properly run.
I trust this contrast will continue.
– Patrick Steward
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