Montresor wrote:Under instructions received from Duty Officer Mordia (and confirmed by Proctor Menz), Captain Trulitch is told to leave his shared-accomodation with Zarkov. Without protest, Trulitch gathers his few belongings and prepares to move them to the room he is to share with his fellow senior delegates.
The captain insists on sharing a drink with Zarkov before departing and, although he does not say much, it is clear that Trulitch considers the Lt. Cmdr with respect.
The night Trulitch leaves, Zarkov is plagued by dreams which leave him pallid and weary. The details escape him upon rising, but he remembers trailing clouds of crimson. Sails flap against a darkling sky and a dark presence haunts his psyche. Bile burns in Zarkov's throat when he wakes, and his head swims with the heady madness of unfathomable nightmares.
Zarkov sat on the edge of his bed, fighting the urge to light up a lho-stick to calm his nerves. He had given up the things years ago, but still had a pack on hand. Zarkov couldn't remember how old they were...probably too old, he thought. He got himself a glass of amasec instead.
The stuff Trulitch had acquired from Footfall was good quality, not that Zarkov overly cared. In one gulp the fiery spirit was gone, calming his nerves a little in the process. He reached for Fulvium's adamantium bottle, refilling it as he had done dozens of times before. He liked to think there might be a little of the original liquor left, the same vintage he and Fulvium had sipped so long ago on Scintilla. It had been so unusual to see the Captain planetside, in civilian clothes – Zarkov had barely recognised him at first…
By the time he had finished reminiscing his nightmare had retreated to the edges of his mind. Still, he did not feel he could sleep more this cycle. He got up and began to get dressed. As he donned his heavy navy tunic he glanced over to the empty room Trulitch had vacated the previous night. The man had been an honoured guest. It had been Zarkov’s decision to offer his quarters, not Mordia’s. The incompetent Duty Officer had not improved his habits, despite Zarkov’s rebukes. Twice he had been given the responsibility of handling the officer and Alid-Yuril accommodation, and twice he had bungled the job. News was now spreading that Mordia had snarled up the rationing as well, and the Invictus now had a mere two weeks of good food left. No wonder the Navy wouldn’t accept him, Zarkov thought. The man wasn’t fit to organise his own life, let alone make decisions that affected the lives of others.
Zarkov stalked down the hallways of the Invictus, looking for the Duty Officer. He found him lecturing a rating on the finer points of dress protocol.
“Duty Officer, a word.”
“I grow tired of hearing of your failings, Mordia. You pride yourself on being a stickler for protocol, yet your actions suggest otherwise. First I entrust you with billeting the officers, and you mishandle it, leading to Eyre’s outburst and his death. I don’t need to tell you I had no need for that incident, now that Peraton and his lackeys are out for my blood all the more.” Zarkov’s face darkened. “Then you evict an honoured guest from my personal cabin, without consulting me first. As you should have been aware, I offered my living space in an act of good faith, an act which you have sullied. Now I hear that in these desperate times you have squandered what little food we have left. Throughout this voyage you have shown yourself to be incapable of handling seemingly simple tasks. Be aware, I am very close to recommending you for summary trial for incompetence. I would advise you to review your actions and see your past failings, and ensure that they do not happen again! The captain will have the final say in this matter.”
With that, Zarkov stalked off.
Montresor wrote:Altercations
Teams of deaf, dust-caked and ragged gunnery crew wander the halls of the Invictus led by midshipmen loyal to Zarkov. Though they mostly keep to their operational region, they have often come across patrols of Armsmen who are disturbed that they are ‘wandering, apparently aimlessly and armed’. An incident on Sub-level 112-A saw a brawl break out between three Armsmen and six gunners when the Armsmen attempted to disarm them. As a result, there are now rising tensions between the two groups. Only Drak-Kung and Zarkov can respond to this.
Upon hearing news of the scuffle, Zarkov headed immediately to his section. Since transitioning from the warp the gunnery area had become a hive of activity, as ammunition was pre-emptively loaded in preparation for possible contacts in-system. The noise of ammunition trains and machinery was such that Zarkov had to temporatily shut off his aural implants. He signed to his officers, who would carry his message throughout the section:
ARMS TEAMS STAY WORK AREAS STOP
NO PATROLLING OUTSIDE WORK AREAS WITHOUT ORDERS STOP
ARMS TEAMS MUST DISARM IF PROMPTED BY REGULAR ARMS TEAMS STOP
THE GUNS MUST REMAIN SECURE STOP
His message relayed, he went to find Drak-Kung.
Venerate the Immortal Emperor, revere his Holy name. Praise the Omnissiah, for the Machine Spirit protects.
Suffer not the Alien.