CIRCE DAVIAN moved slowly across the floor of his personal quarters. His stomach growled with a fierce sound that sounded both hungry and sick. He was slightly aching, his ulcer felt as though it was were being agitated with a vibrodagger. And the taste of which left something to be desired.
His shuffle across the floor to his bedside table was a long one, he being an elderly Captain, conserving energy for when it was best used. His sleeping patterns had long since been diminished by old age. The human male coughed coarsely as he found a seat. He slept more now than he'd been awake most days. Having been busted down after the fiasco he'd endured not long ago to simple observational duty, the Captain had little need for leaving his quarters. He made the occasional ceremonial visit to the bridge, but really he'd been relinquished to little more than a vestigial party among the crew. He doubted that had much faith in him anymore, really, he doubted most things these days. The Empire, his crew, even his once trusted confidant Lieutenant Brody.
He was chased by the cold dead words of his father. Shortly before Perrin had perished, Circe had confessed in him a seething desire to defect. He never truly believed in the Empire, the bureaucracy had only furthered his growing distaste. Spitting in his face for this admission, literally, Circe was sure he would have reported his disowned son for the treachery he had divulged had he not passed the very next morning. Even on his death bed Perrin had defended the Empire. Circe questioned himself on a daily basis now. Was he chased by the ghost of his father?
The alarm sounded at his nightstand and Circe lightly tapped it from active to off. Morning had come, at least for the Skullprey's crew, and the Captain had no propensity for early hours of the day. Circe moved with such lethargy he doubted he even had the alacrity let alone the enthusiasm to appear among the crew this day.
The Captain and doubtful Imperial, searched his closest after a long stare at the chronometer for a clean, pressed uniform. After a shower session he was dressed, shaved and prepared for the bridge. In his youth it would have taken him a quarter of the time to prepare, now at Circe's age it was necessary to start earlier to keep on schedule.
"Brody." Circe called into the communications system.
"Yes, Captain?" Brody returned. There was no sense of surprise in Brody's voice, where there should have been. It had been almost three days since his last visit to the command deck.
"I'll be topside A-S-A-P." Circe stated.
No further response came, Brody understood. Circe only wished to make a brief appearance. Brody had command of the ship more than ever now. Circe had trained the young man as his protégé from a youthful, naiveté, to his current status as a competent, loyal leader. Was there more to learn? Of course. There was always something else to teach, to learn.
***
His visit was to be brief, he said to himself. The man of somewhere in his late sixties, but aged a great deal more than he would have enjoyed, garnered respect from the crew in some regard. Their salutes and stances were still rigid. Circe appreciated as much. He realized he wouldn't be around much longer. If High Command didn't force his retirement after his recent blunder, then Brody would make a play soon enough. Circe had taught him better than to allow a lackadaisical commander to remain in play.
"Are you well commander?" Brody questioned as they returned to his quarters.
"Why do you ask?" Circe said with his brow upturned.
"You seem.... forgive me sir, you seem like you don't care anymore. I know this isn't the truth, I hope it isn't. I'm trying to do my best to fill your shoes, but it's not easy and the men... they... well they talk. Rumors and all." Brody explained.
Davian was quite for a short while. Not entirely sure how to compose his response he just walked with an aloof, almost senile smirk on his face.
"I'm well Lieutenant, you need not worry about my health."
"Sir, I've seen the medical charts from sick bay." Brody returned.
"I see." Circe replied calmly.
"And?"
"And what Lieutenant?"
"Are you going to seek treatment?"
"The thought crossed my mind. It also crossed my mind that I might be forced into early retirement because of this."
"What? Why?"
"Well I would need significant time to recover, let alone perform the treatments. It just isn't in High Command's best interests to keep on an old, sickly, fool such as myself. Why when you first came aboard I'm sure that was not the case, but it seems I've become reckless in my old age. The analysts would surely advise against my being retained as commanding officer of the Skullprey or any other vessel in the Imperial fleet." Circe said.
"Is your life less important than your job sir?"
"My job has, unfortunately, become my life Brody. I have no wife such as you, no children, no family to speak of. As far as friends go you are the closest I've managed in my sixty-eight years of life. I've been so dedicated to this position... that I've forsaken the important things of life." Circe stated, hardly able to admit the words.
He almost stumbled at the very utterance of them. Circe had been so committed to the Empire that he'd left behind his own life. And yet since before his father's death nearly twenty years ago he'd questioned his devotion. Davian's head swam in confusion.
"So that's it then?" Brody asked.
"I guess it is Lieutenant." Circe said stopped at the entrance to his personal quarters.
Brody had the look. The Lieutenant and Captain had spent much time together, playing dejarik, speaking of all things, plotting, and even in battle. Circe knew him well. He knew that twitch of the left eyebrow when he'd discovered a move in dejarik that assured him a victory. He could read when Brody was contemplating a strategy. And to Circe's chagrin he could still remember the grimace of defeat on his face. It almost pained Circe to be so short with the man who'd been his most trusted and closest friend for his entire life. Nearly half his age, the Lieutenant reminded Circe of a younger, more optimistic version of himself. Brody was no idealistic fool, he had a good head on his shoulders and Circe, well, even back then Circe was a cynical young fool. Now he was just a cynical old fool.
"I won't say anything." Brody said as a last ditch effort.
"I know you won't."
The door hissed shut.
His shuffle across the floor to his bedside table was a long one, he being an elderly Captain, conserving energy for when it was best used. His sleeping patterns had long since been diminished by old age. The human male coughed coarsely as he found a seat. He slept more now than he'd been awake most days. Having been busted down after the fiasco he'd endured not long ago to simple observational duty, the Captain had little need for leaving his quarters. He made the occasional ceremonial visit to the bridge, but really he'd been relinquished to little more than a vestigial party among the crew. He doubted that had much faith in him anymore, really, he doubted most things these days. The Empire, his crew, even his once trusted confidant Lieutenant Brody.
He was chased by the cold dead words of his father. Shortly before Perrin had perished, Circe had confessed in him a seething desire to defect. He never truly believed in the Empire, the bureaucracy had only furthered his growing distaste. Spitting in his face for this admission, literally, Circe was sure he would have reported his disowned son for the treachery he had divulged had he not passed the very next morning. Even on his death bed Perrin had defended the Empire. Circe questioned himself on a daily basis now. Was he chased by the ghost of his father?
The alarm sounded at his nightstand and Circe lightly tapped it from active to off. Morning had come, at least for the Skullprey's crew, and the Captain had no propensity for early hours of the day. Circe moved with such lethargy he doubted he even had the alacrity let alone the enthusiasm to appear among the crew this day.
The Captain and doubtful Imperial, searched his closest after a long stare at the chronometer for a clean, pressed uniform. After a shower session he was dressed, shaved and prepared for the bridge. In his youth it would have taken him a quarter of the time to prepare, now at Circe's age it was necessary to start earlier to keep on schedule.
"Brody." Circe called into the communications system.
"Yes, Captain?" Brody returned. There was no sense of surprise in Brody's voice, where there should have been. It had been almost three days since his last visit to the command deck.
"I'll be topside A-S-A-P." Circe stated.
No further response came, Brody understood. Circe only wished to make a brief appearance. Brody had command of the ship more than ever now. Circe had trained the young man as his protégé from a youthful, naiveté, to his current status as a competent, loyal leader. Was there more to learn? Of course. There was always something else to teach, to learn.
***
His visit was to be brief, he said to himself. The man of somewhere in his late sixties, but aged a great deal more than he would have enjoyed, garnered respect from the crew in some regard. Their salutes and stances were still rigid. Circe appreciated as much. He realized he wouldn't be around much longer. If High Command didn't force his retirement after his recent blunder, then Brody would make a play soon enough. Circe had taught him better than to allow a lackadaisical commander to remain in play.
"Are you well commander?" Brody questioned as they returned to his quarters.
"Why do you ask?" Circe said with his brow upturned.
"You seem.... forgive me sir, you seem like you don't care anymore. I know this isn't the truth, I hope it isn't. I'm trying to do my best to fill your shoes, but it's not easy and the men... they... well they talk. Rumors and all." Brody explained.
Davian was quite for a short while. Not entirely sure how to compose his response he just walked with an aloof, almost senile smirk on his face.
"I'm well Lieutenant, you need not worry about my health."
"Sir, I've seen the medical charts from sick bay." Brody returned.
"I see." Circe replied calmly.
"And?"
"And what Lieutenant?"
"Are you going to seek treatment?"
"The thought crossed my mind. It also crossed my mind that I might be forced into early retirement because of this."
"What? Why?"
"Well I would need significant time to recover, let alone perform the treatments. It just isn't in High Command's best interests to keep on an old, sickly, fool such as myself. Why when you first came aboard I'm sure that was not the case, but it seems I've become reckless in my old age. The analysts would surely advise against my being retained as commanding officer of the Skullprey or any other vessel in the Imperial fleet." Circe said.
"Is your life less important than your job sir?"
"My job has, unfortunately, become my life Brody. I have no wife such as you, no children, no family to speak of. As far as friends go you are the closest I've managed in my sixty-eight years of life. I've been so dedicated to this position... that I've forsaken the important things of life." Circe stated, hardly able to admit the words.
He almost stumbled at the very utterance of them. Circe had been so committed to the Empire that he'd left behind his own life. And yet since before his father's death nearly twenty years ago he'd questioned his devotion. Davian's head swam in confusion.
"So that's it then?" Brody asked.
"I guess it is Lieutenant." Circe said stopped at the entrance to his personal quarters.
Brody had the look. The Lieutenant and Captain had spent much time together, playing dejarik, speaking of all things, plotting, and even in battle. Circe knew him well. He knew that twitch of the left eyebrow when he'd discovered a move in dejarik that assured him a victory. He could read when Brody was contemplating a strategy. And to Circe's chagrin he could still remember the grimace of defeat on his face. It almost pained Circe to be so short with the man who'd been his most trusted and closest friend for his entire life. Nearly half his age, the Lieutenant reminded Circe of a younger, more optimistic version of himself. Brody was no idealistic fool, he had a good head on his shoulders and Circe, well, even back then Circe was a cynical young fool. Now he was just a cynical old fool.
"I won't say anything." Brody said as a last ditch effort.
"I know you won't."
The door hissed shut.