Act Two

Babel Falling

Part III

SES Babel, Februn 2nd, 3730.

“That snivelling little skek went behind my back?!”

Had Uriel been talking to any other Admiral than Jayne Laughlin, he might have taken greater care with his tone. Then again, had he been talking to any other Admiral than Jayne Laughlin, he wouldn’t have felt nearly as betrayed as he did by what he was hearing.

“Uriel,” Jayne said softly, the sibilant hiss of the vidcom making her sound like she was whispering, “he’s making a very valid point. The time’s come to really test the Underspace engine, to push it a little further.”

“A little?!” Uriel repeated. “Jayne, with all due respect, have your lost your skekking mind?!”

Laughlin’s expression soured. “Uriel…”

“No, don’t,” he said, holding up one finger. “That bastard goes behind my back, straight to his science buddies, instead of making his case to me. He undermines me! And it’s my ship that he’s risking.”

“A ship he’s on.”

“That’s not the point and you know it!” Uriel took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “Jayne, he undermined my authority on my own damn ship. You let him do this, and he takes it as read that he can do that every time. You reward this non-military behaviour, it festers. The whole damn crew starts thinking they can ignore the chain of command.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Laughlin said softly. “That’s not going to happen. And your authority isn’t being undermined.”

“Then what in the hells is this?!” Uriel shouted. “I made a command decision. Instead of abiding by it, he went over my head to his friends in Sci-Corp. You tell me, what the frat is that, if not undermining my authority?!”

“It’s making his concerns known to the head of Sci-Corp, who agreed with him,” Laughlin said, shaking her head. “Uriel, please. I know, alright? I know exactly what you’re feeling. But he’s gone above board on it, and you’re not under my authority, you’re under Elena’s.”

Uriel took a breath, resisting the urge to physically bite his tongue to stop himself from speaking.

“It’s not right,” he finally said. “It’s not the right time for his long-haul test.”

“I might agree,” Laughlin said softly. “But it’s not my call. It’s his, and it’s Elena’s. I’m sorry.”

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Uriel sniffed. “I see.” He paused. “Fine. I’ll go along with it. And when it goes wrong, it’s on Diakos’ head.”

“Uriel…” Laughlin began, but she clearly thought better of it. “Good luck.”

“Thanks,” Uriel said shortly. “Hope I don’t need it.”

***

He stepped onto the bridge, and to no one’s surprise, there was Freume, looking inordinately pleased with himself. He was standing by Kyrali’s chair, grinning from ear to ear.

“Captain,” he said. “The engine’s prepared for our long-haul flight to begin.”

Judging by Kyrali’s expression, the Professor had been talking about this for some time before Uriel arrived on the bridge.

“Professor Freume,” Uriel said, slowly and deliberately. “You may leave the bridge.”

Freume’s smile disappeared. “Excuse me?”

“You may leave the bridge,” Uriel said again.

Freume blinked once. “I’m… not certain I follow, Captain Locke.”

“This is my bridge, and I’m telling you to leave it,” Uriel said, enunciating his words carefully. That he sounded patronising was not his concern. “You have work to do, and it’s not here. You may leave the bridge now. Is that clear enough for you, or do I need to email an Admiral about it?”

Freume blinked dumbly. “I – that is, I had hoped to watch us -”

“You have a job on this ship, Professor Freume,” Uriel cut him off swiftly and coldly. “I’m singularly not interested in what you hoped to do.” He leant forward and spoke in a quieter tone. “You went behind my back. You got us into a mess that I was not and still am not convinced is worth the risk. So you go to the engine room and you do your damn job. Clear?”

Freume’s mouth opened and closed without making a sound, not unlike a fish’s, and Uriel scowled at the man.

“You may leave the bridge,” he said again.

Freume nodded dumbly, and walked to the lift without saying a single word. Uriel didn’t watch him go, though he took satisfaction from hearing the sound of the lift door opening and closing.

“Captain?” Kyrali asked from her chair. “Is he… that is, he said we were -”

“Professor Freume made his reservations about my decision known to the Sci-Corp Admiralty,” Uriel said softly, taking his seat. “They agreed with him.”

Kyrali made a noise at the back of her throat that Uriel was fairly certain no human could have replicated, but he was pretty certain it wasn’t meant kindly.

“REMF,” she said after a moment. “I’m never going to like them, am I?”

Uriel laughed. “When you get to be the Captain, Kyrali, you’re going to fratting hate them. Just how it is.”

Kyrali’s expression eased somewhat, and let out a soft chuckle.

“Remind me to never get promoted, sir,” she said. “I don’t have the patience for them.”

“I’ll be sure to note that in my log,” Uriel said. He turned his attention to the helm, where Benson was sitting, patiently waiting for his order. “Midshipman Benson, you have the coordinates?”

“Getting them fed through now, sir,” Benson replied, running his hand over his console. “The Professor’s calculated half a dozen long jumps – right the way to the edge of…”

He trailed off, not wanting to say the next words.

“Right the way to the area near Desolation Station Twenty Two,” Uriel finished for him. “It’s alright, Midshipman. No one’s happy with this except the Admiralty and the Professor, but orders are orders, and Soleil-knows how many skekked up orders we're going to get in our lives.” He sighed, tapping the intercom control on his armrest. “Professor Freume, are you ready?”

It took Freume a moment to answer. “Everything’s prepared, Captain Locke.”

“Better be, Professor,” Locke said coldly. He switched the intercom off. “Mr Benson. Whenever you’re ready, have at it.”

Benson nodded. “Aye, sir.”

He tapped his controls. The stars on the screen expanded. Uriel winced at the bright light.

And then they were on their way.

***