Zoalus Postmortem

[Pher 0]

Captain

 

 

Evaluate… everything? Yes. Of course. There’s a lot that might be said, and you’re the one to hear it. I’d just ask that you keep this to yourself.

 

I’ll start by saying I’m as disappointed in myself as much as anyone else. Managing a resort beach is not at all the same as running a starship, no matter how edgy the beach. I’m still learning on the job, and not quickly enough. There were a few times I nearly blew it, and these will be touched upon.

 

I’d like to start, though, with the first Zoalus expedition. In hindsight, we had three separate agendas. Sal’s was proper and benign. He was working the language and culture angle from the start, making decent progress in the end. As such, this was a science mission. Sal had to do what he had to do, while security was there so he could do it safely.

 

As time developed, I developed my own agenda. We had to develop a pattern of behavior that would not draw attention from the drones. I was thinking less in terms of getting the most out of the first expedition, but in learning how future expeditions could work with acceptable risk. This meant stealth. This meant keeping equipment turned off, freezing when drones approached, staying quiet, staying in the shade, leaving few footprints and not activating equipment connected to the remnants of the Zoalus network.

 

None of us, including myself, managed adequate discipline during that first trip. We did much better on the second trip, when we beamed down to recover Ethan. In the first trip, not so much. In particular, there was a tendency to be heroic. If it seemed likely that the drones might be about to pick us up, someone or another would draw attention to himself rather than allow the team to be picked up. A nobel thought, perhaps, but the result was that the team was picked up every single time. We might do it deliberately some other time. We might build some delta radiation grenades, portable expendable distractions, designed to deliberately draw attention away from the AT. Powering up one’s weapon or tricorder doesn’t achieve the same effect. At any rate, if we intend extended stays on the surface, we need more discipline and perhaps less ambition.

 

I shan’t pick on anyone in particular. We were all in it.

 

The third agenda was Ethan’s, and his opposites, the modified drones. Avoiding the native drones seems possible with discipline. The Rainmaker drones (if they are indeed Rainmakers) had better sensors and were seeking Ethan specifically. The rest of the party would power up and fire when Ethan was under threat, drawing in the native drones. I do not know what Ethan was striving to do, but he was constantly arguing to use sensors more, and his presence defeated any attempts at remaining hidden.

 

At the same time, I have the impression Ethan has significant professional security experience. When he was being cooperative, he knew what he was doing and played a team game. If he shared information, if he were not running a hidden agenda, if he did not draw hostile attention, if he didn’t argue quite so much, he could be a significant asset. He’s a pro, not a glorified lifeguard somewhat over her head. Unfortunately, that is a lot of ifs.

 

Chris. I love the guy. He has a lot of common sense. He’s respected. He’s still fighting off an overdoes of Redera. When he is lucid, when he is there, he’s great. There are times he drifts off into dreamland. I don’t care who he is dreaming of, well, maybe I do, but I’m not sure he has recovered enough from a certain bald Rainmaker to lead a team in tight spot.

 

Kaara… I respect her. I’ve no where near her education in medical areas. Well, I don’t have her education, period. With the possible exceptions of reviving drowning victims and managing sexual addictions, I would not think to cross her on medical matters. Yes, it would be logical for Chris to take a few drugs, tighten up his mental disciplines, and will himself to disregard women entirely, except perhaps for a brief time every seven years. It would be logical, but not human. I also have my own needs, not entirely unlike Chris’s. I don’t doubt there are fine options for treatments somewhere between Kaara’s ideas and mine.

 

I don’t know. It’s just that what I’ve been trying to do for Chris isn’t complete.

 

Soon after beam up to Capricorn we had extreme confusion in command. Troy was in charge of the Capricorn group. Chris was senior person present. I was security boss. Neither Chris nor I thought to debrief Troy, to learn what was going on. With hindsight, Troy and Shane, distrusting Ford, mucked with Ford’s ship in a way many a engineer wouldn’t accept. I believe Maxwell or one of his followers used this as an excuse to tick Ford off. Maxwell’s intent was likely to clear the way for his own personal take over of Capricorn.

 

As I hadn’t asked questions, as I didn’t know what was going on, it just seemed like Ford and Shane had gone nuts. My thought was that security was supposed to prevent people from getting hurt, that fighting between crews was not constructive, that it should stop. Shane, Ford, and later Alex and Maxwell acted as if the answer to violence was greater and more decisive violence. My attempts to get anyone to stand down were futile. Shane in particular would not recognize the orders of the security chief on security matters. William and Troy later decided blowing up a few things would be a good idea, and acted on their own initiative. Attacking with the ship’s equipment and attacking the ship’s equipment became common tactics.

 

My objective became to stop the madness while we still had enough functional starships to get home. At any given time there were only a small number of rogues that needed to be subdued or talked down, but as rapidly as one group was handled, another group would have some brilliant idea. Kill someone. Blow something up. Starships are fragile deadly battlegrounds. If there is to be a winner in a clash aboard a ship, both sides have to want to take the ship intact. It is just too easy to disable a ship, to kill crew in large numbers. In this case, both sides seemed to care more about not losing than winning, seeming quite willing to destroy what they were fighting for. I shan’t say this is always a bad idea, but everyone has to understand the consequences of taking off the gloves.

 

There was a point, about half way through the confusion, when you asked for three engineers and bridge crew for the Qob. I nominated Shane as I could not control him. He is angry, lethal, and does not take orders well. I wanted one less problem, and gave him to you. I nominated Chris as he was confusing the command situation. When he was there he was there, but he often wasn’t. I nominated Sal as he’s solid bridge crew and you needed solid bridge crew. There was a time, a little later, after Troy went rogue, when I was second guessing myself. Perhaps I should have sent Troy and kept Sal. Either way, I felt confident that you could make constructive use of anyone, but I could not.

 

Mind you, some of the spontaneous violence might have been appropriate, might have been necessary to the more or less successful end result. With the Qob missing and Maxwell sailing off in Capricorn, I was not at all sure how the Qob crew on board Capricorn could be recovered. The subsequent explosion on Capricorn might have been a good thing, even if it was much more of a good thing than I’d have preferred. It is possible that any of the individual acts of violence during the chaos might be justified, either in the long run, or in terms of urgent personal needs to hurt somebody. I am not truly interested in pointing fingers and walking through the last few days incident by incident. There would be no lack of fingers pointing back.

 

But the overall effect was bad.

 

I also had trouble with Byblos. Once a fight has started, I’ve worked with him well. We have a similar rhythm where one of us causes a distraction that allows the other to clobber someone. Still, he has a distinct lack of confidence. After losing his gang to the Guardians, he has been left with a feeling of inadequacy that surfaces in times of high stress.

 

When Ford first caused a ruckus, he seemed unable to cope. More members of the Qob crew seemed focused on calming down Byblos than dealing with Ford. Later, when things got rough, he felt a need to turn in his weapons. Even in the recent meeting down in the cargo bay, he asked me to order him to keep his mouth shut. I’d feel good with him at my back if the shooting is about to start, but if the shooting is still in the vague future, if he hears bad news he doesn’t have an immediate answer for, he needs someone to calm him down and hang on to his weapon for a while. I don’t really mind playing the nursemaid, but the times he needs coddling are often just when my attention has to be elsewhere.

 

I think we can work through this. I’m hoping, if Byblos isn’t busy full time in engineering, to settle down for a talk.

 

Then there is you, Joe. It is an honor to be given a team and the freedom to act independently. I understand that you have to think of the ship, and profits, and keeping everything together. I understand you play your hand close to the vest, use surprise, and keep everyone guessing.

 

But when I put together my last coalition, when I walked into Capricorn’s main engineering to find out who won the last fight between Maxwell and Halstrom, I didn’t know you already had a deal on with Halstrom. I vaguely thought I’d likely be on (ugh) Maxwell’s side. This thing about the right hand not knowing what the left hand is stroking might possibly be taken too far? Between much of the crew free lancing and your own hidden and changing plans, I felt very much like a free agent myself, making my own choices for my own reasons.

 

And I might not choose as others do. My world is owned by rich arrogant scum, but they aren’t the enemy. No, they exist to be cajoled into putting you on your back and quieting the itch for a while. You don’t raise your hand against them, not without carefully choosing the time, the place, and making sure it looks like an accident. Once you’re out of dust, pain hurts. You can always strike, but you can’t ever give them a chance to strike back. No, you don’t fight your owners and clients. You fight your friends, and you’d best look graceful and sexy while you’re doing it.

 

These big strong males, lashing out at the slightest slight? I don’t understand how they are tough enough, smart enough, to survive in a really tough spot. Could they stubbornly fight to hold their place in paradise - hell, knowing the other side of the island is in no way paradise? How do they forget Capricorn’s bridge crew, Verbistul’s security people, or the civilians of Tranquility? How hard and how long does one fight for profit when other things might be on the line?

 

I don’t know that you want me free lancing. You might want to say a bit more about where your left hand is.

 

I’ve heard some groups, elite warriors, bands of brothers, don’t leave one of their own behind. When you sent us back to get Ethan, I wondered. I wondered, but I went. We bumbled through it somehow, pulling mostly together for once. We all got home.

 

We’re not that sort of group yet. I don’t know that we’re ever going to be. This is a job, not a crusade? Each of us is supposed to get some latinum from this? It doesn’t all go to the ship’s account? And yet, to some degree, if one of us gets in trouble, the rest of us try to get him out?

 

I just think, if each person’s mess is to fall upon every one of us, each of us might spend more effort keeping out of trouble? You’re something of a maverick. So am I. So are we all. And you know, if sometimes one of us goes off on a tangent, that adds spice to life. A mix of talents and styles can be a good thing. If it is hard at times to hold the leash on this bunch, there is also a certain unholy joy in letting them loose, in crying havoc.

 

But chaos can be over done.

 

Perhaps we need a maverick hat? You’re not allowed to go wild, howling at moons, until you’ve secured the hat and can be sure that no one else will be wildly howling at the same time? Without the hat, you’re required to be vaguely sane?

 

And who am I, you might well ask, to judge what sanity might be?

 

I don’t know. I’m not happy with my own performance. Then again, I’m not happy with anyone’s performance, except when Chris and I can find time to be alone.

 

I don’t know.

Edited January 25, 2012 by Pher