Commandant Aydin had stowed a second cup of coffee and moved on to shaving when his exec knocked at the door.
“Yah.”
“Morning, sir.”
“Yah, yah, pleasantries and whatever. What d’you want?”
“There’s an issue.”
Aydin laid down his straight razor in the sink and grimaced at a spot of blood on his face. “How can there be an issue?” He reached for the dermagen. “Falcon-4’s powered down, isn’t she?”
“Problem’s not shipside, sir. It’s stationside.”
Aydin dabbed the blood. “Lowest hells if I care,” he said, caring very much indeed. “I know crew’s behaving themselves, Natano. I know this because I’ll space every son-of-a-jackal who steps out of line.”
“Crew’s fine, sir.”
Aydin leaned on the dirty porcelain. “It’s them again, isn’t it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What now?”
Natano hesitated. Aydin looked at him in the mirror.
“Stationmaster asks if you’d come around and have breakfast.”
“Temes take it,” Aydin swore, picking up a towel. “Can’t someone cut their throats?”
Stationside Fleet quarters were on C-deck. The mercantiles and civilian residentials occupied B-deck. Admin level was on A-deck. Aydin and Natano took the lift in silence, in their slate grays. Natano fiddled his bronze cuff buttons while Aydin counted to five hundred, a practice which served him well in the past but whose utility had been seriously strained since reaching Aphrodite Station with an unwanted militia team in tow.
The Stationmaster’s office was in 1-Section, A-Deck. For a dismal outpost in orbit around Aphrodite, it was surprisingly well-decorated, with expensive furniture and a wide oval window overlooking the gray, cloud-swirled world below. The carpet was handwoven Penesthelian, and Aydin glared at its rich patterns: a year’s salary for him. Maybe with Natano’s thrown in.
Stationmaster Florio stood in the window, arms behind his back, watching the planet, when his secretary walked the Fleet officers in. He turned around, smiled pleasantly enough, and gestured at a meeting table.
“Gentlemen, please,” he said. He offered his hand to Aydin. There was good food and coffee, not the powdered sort Aydin had just tolerated, but real, thick foamy coffee in tiny porcelain cups. Aydin drank it, suspicious.
“Got it nice, for the arse-end of beyond,” he said.
Florio nodded. “I do well,” he said. “Investments… Traders need help... a little money here, a little money there.”
“What did they do?” Aydin said.
“Ah. They.” Florio steepled his fingers. “I understand that they aren’t your crew, but they are under your authority.”
“What did they do?”
“They broke up a brothel, Commandant. The owner is justifiably upset. Substantial damages—mirrors, bottles, tables... one of the girls was admitted to Station infirmary, Commandant. Concussion, I’m told.”
Aydin looked at the exec. “Sorry to hear that,” he said. “What happened?”
“They picked a fight with a crew off of a freighter.”
“Maybe it was the other way around.”
“It doesn’t matter. Falcon-4’s been docked at Aphrodite Station for six weeks, and they’ve been shoved in my gaol four times.” He counted fingers. “Riot in the bazaar. Fistfights on the dock. A... classic variation on a dine and dash.” A faint expression of disgust crossed his face. “And now, Girlie Paradise. Miss Calcipha has presented me with a bill for the damages.”
“She worked overtime if this just happened a few hours ago. You sure it’s not padded?”
The Stationmaster slid a piece of paper across the polished stone tabletop. Aydin turned it over, and reddened immediately.
“This is ridiculous.”
“What’s ridiculous is dealing with this.”
“They’re young men. Conscripts. They’re—” He groped for words.
“Chafing,” Natano suggested.
“Chafing at being here. We all are.” He thrust the paper back across the table.
Florio looked at it and moved it back and forth with his fingertips, meditative.
“You tell me Fleet’s stuck you out here for sixteen months. If I have them causing chaos on a weekly basis like this, this will cost me substantial damages since I imagine the Fleet will skimp on its bills, Commandant Aydin. However.”
Aydin raised an eyebrow.
“I understand they are chafing. Bored, I’m sure.”
“Yes?” Aydin said, cautious.
“I have something that they could... assist me with.”
“Assist?”
Florio smiled with perfect teeth. “Yes.”
“And?”
Florio laid his hand on the madam’s bill and moved it far to the side. “It would make this... disappear.”
Aydin folded his arms. “Tell me more.”
this pic makes me think of Ender’s Game