1. Valygar = perceptive. Let's watch.
2. Some insight into Keldorn's reputation amongst the rest of the Confederation military. Also, I go a tiny bit into his backstory with Falynn and why he's just so gosh-darned cool.
3. Also, why Valygar makes a good non-com, in my opinion.
4. Boo being cute. Yay!
5. A Jan story. YAY!
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“What’s the matter, Ensign?”
Nalia had mostly zoned out. Things were quiet, perhaps a little too much so, and she’d allowed her thoughts to drift elsewhere. It was an easy thing to do – what with the drab, unchanging scenery and the distinct lack in the immediate vicinity of living beings aside from themselves. Daydreaming was a dangerous habit to be indulging in, however, and she knew it; she also hoped she’d live long enough to learn how to fix it. More immediate affairs were vying for her attention, though – among them, the Army Ranger looking at her with mild concern. “Hmmmm? Oh, sorry, Sergeant. I was just thinking.” She shrugged. “The Major’s not an easy person to figure out, y’know? Makes you wonder how us newbies are supposed to manage.”
He nodded and deadpanned a response. “It’s an adventure.”
The ensign snickered mildly. “Sure seems that way. It’s just… one minute she’s yelling at me, as if I were trying to give her orders, and the next she’s asking everyone for opinions on what we should do next. Just seems like a bit of a contradiction, doesn’t it? Especially since I don’t know that many officers, not to mention those as high up as she is, who… well, you know, actually listen to other people… even if only some of the time.” She smiled, sheepishly. “I think I could get used to it.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less from Colonel Firecam’s protégé,” he said with a shrug.
She looked at him, momentarily stunned. Despite the fact that the venerable Colonel was an officer in the Confederation Space Operations division, and she was a member of ConFleet, his name was well-known even in the circles that she traveled in. That, and several of his dissertations on infantry-scale tactical doctrine had become required reading at the Confederation Military Academy, no matter what branch of the service one was being trained to enter. Nalia blinked. “As in Colonel Keldorn Firecam? The guy from Operation Angel Wire? That Colonel Firecam?”
“The very same,” said Valygar. “This used to be his unit, and Major Llyr was his Executive Officer. He turned command of the squad over to her when he realized he was no longer able to participate in field operations. From what I’ve seen, she often consults with him for strategic and logistical issues before the start of an operation.” He shrugged. “Her style of command is certainly her own, but it’s clearly influenced by his.” He recited a quotation from memory:
“If you give orders and explain nothing, you may get obedience, but you will get no creativity. If you tell your soldiers your purpose, then when your original plan is shown to be faulty, they will find another way to achieve your goal. Explaining to your men does not weaken their respect for you, it proves your respect for them.”
Nalia smiled. “I remember reading that back during my R.O.T.C. classes. Not surprisingly, a lot of the brass weren’t too fond of the Colonel’s attitudes on command.”
Valygar gave a brief nod and motioned her to keep moving as he sent a quick glance down a side corridor. Like all the other corridors they’d been encountering, this one was empty, lit by medium-intensity fluorescent lamps, and was a uniform gray in color with the decking matching the gunmetal gray walls. The environment had a completely sterile atmosphere to it, except in places where the Dominion assault team had clashed with Confederation forces. “With good reason. I’ve always found them to be wise words, but there is one important caveat to bear in mind.”
“What’s that?”
“There is nothing wrong with explaining your objectives and your intentions to your subordinates, but ultimately, every unit has only one leader.”
Her smile faded slowly. “I think I see where you’re going with this.” She sighed. “You’re right. It’s her call to make, not mine.”
“It’s her decision, and it’s her responsibility. Any and all consequences will fall upon her, so while she may choose to listen to everyone’s suggestions, none of us can take that burden off her shoulders.”
“I know, I know. It’s not that I was questioning her ability to lead.” Nalia shook her head. “Not at all. I don’t have her training or her experience, and I won’t deny that. You guys are infantry, I’m Fleet; I’m out of my league, and I admit that, too. It’s just… it’s just that I’ve seen lots of commanders who were totally blind to everything but their own opinions on how things should be done, especially when it comes to stuff like… well, like this. But the problem is, it’s one thing to be able to figure out the best way to… I don’t know… capture some hill and hold it against an enemy counterattack, and it’s totally another to be able to figure out whether you should help your own government commit genocide. If she’s wrong, it’ll get lots of people killed.”
“And if you’re wrong, many people will be killed, anyway. I’m not sure I see much of a distinction there, Ensign. Either way, whatever decision she makes will likely result in a large number of deaths. Whatever opinions you may have, however loudly you voice them, and however willing to listen to your arguments the Major may seem to be, the choice is, in the end, not yours to make. I’m sure it’s not something she takes lightly… despite her seeming penchant for taking -everything- lightly.”
“It looks like it runs in the family,” she responded with a snort. She sobered quickly. “I’m just worried that she might not be qualified to make that kind of decision… and I don’t mean that as an insult,” Nalia said, putting up a hand to forestall any possible protests. “Who’s to say -anyone- is qualified to make that kind of call?”
“Perhaps no one is. Perhaps it is inherently unfair to expect any one individual to make choices that would impact the lives of so many more. The bitter truth, however, is that someone -has- to make that decision, and Major Llyr just happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. We can offer her our counsel, and we can offer her our support, but that is all we can do. Personally, I don’t envy her the responsibility.”
The Ensign gave a brief nod. “I don’t, either.” She let out a ragged sigh of frustration. “I don’t know, I suppose I just took advantage of how ‘democratic’ things seemed around here. Opened my big mouth a bit too much.” She frowned, feeling a bit guilty for her outburst earlier – not that that guilt would change her outlook on things. “Guess that’s what happens when you put rookies in with the veterans… not to mention Navy rookies. You know us Fleet types,” she said, forcing a half-hearted smile. “No respect for anyone or anything.”
He didn’t take the bait, instead ignoring the mild joke. “Maybe, maybe not. But disciplinary issues are beside the point. The only real ‘trick’ to any of this is to stay in one piece long enough to become one of those veterans, and the best way to do that-”
She cut him off. “Right. To listen to those who’ve seen it all before. I’m trying; trust me.” She turned her head, facing forward again, and watching the rest of the unit proceed in formation several meters ahead of her - just out of earshot. “I plan to be in this for the long haul.”
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Slicing the security lockouts on a door was always a delicate task, a very subtle blend of precision electrical work and computer programming. It required a steady hand, an agile mind, and despite Imoen’s eccentricities, foibles of personality, and outright silliness, it was a job she could do with an almost frightening degree of competency. The rational part of Falynn’s mind knew that, and had every confidence in her younger sister’s skills. The less-rational parts, however, were inclined to agree with Jaheira’s appraisal.
“Twenty credits says she electrocutes herself,” the half-elf said with a smirk.
“Make it fifty, and you’ve got a bet.”
Jan, who had, until just now, been lost in the minutiae of working up a set of mental blueprints for a garden vegetable irrigation system that ran on yucca extract, piped up from behind the two of them. “I’d like to take that bet. Thirty credits on Lieutenant Flambé. As my Uncle Georg always used to say, ‘never bet that somebody isn’t going to kill themselves in the most horrific way possible.’ It’s how he made his fortune, you know. He bet everything he had that he would be killed while working on a wheat thresher, and by Gond, he was right. Uncle Georg was a smart one, but he loved tinkering with that wheat thresher… always with the wheat thresher! Still, the proceeds from that bet proved to be quite the windfall. Of course, he couldn’t spend the money, what with him being gnome jerky, but Aunt Stella inherited all those assets and bought herself a lovely mansion in the Poconos. Very picturesque scenery, though a little cold from what I’ve heard… certainly far too cold and inhospitable for vegetable growth. But then again, Stella was quite the oddity, the veritable black sheep of the Jansen family, as it were. She wasn’t much of a gardener at all, but she did like to ski, and she even bought herself a snowmobile. They say she purchased it from a Yeti who’d retired to the area about a dozen years previous, though I’m not sure I believe that. Everyone knows the Bigfoot and Abominable Snowman businesses never stop booming. Why retire when you’re still making credits hand over fist? Come to think of it, I’m rather surprised no one’s started using Bigfoot profit margins as the major indicators in economic forecasts. No market’s quite as stable, after all, as the monster business… except maybe the mobile vegetable peddling trade… but that’s a different matter entirely-”
Valygar groaned. “Here we go again.”
The Sergeant’s comment was followed shortly by a husky, but clearly feminine voice from the general Minsc-vicinity. “Hey, can I get in on this bet?”
Falynn turned her head towards Boo, trying her best (like the others were) to ignore Jan’s anecdote about how his great-great-uncle Getti Jansen had developed a turnip-based fuel additive that he swore would increase the efficiency of your everyday snowmobile. “Boo, you’re a hamster. No, actually, you’re a computer AI that looks like a hamster…”
“Correction: I’m a computer AI that could hack into all your bank accounts; I’m in, like it or not.”
“What would you even do with the money?”
Minsc’s ever-present companion looked as if she were pondering the import of that question, trying to formulate the proper response. Once she had the answer, she proudly proclaimed it. “Why, I’d build a GIANT wheel, of course.”
From up ahead, Imoen jumped back from the console. “Yeouch!” She wrung her hand for a moment, then placed the tip of her index finger in her mouth.
Jaheira snickered. “Easiest fifty credits I ever made.”
Despite having lost the bet, Falynn couldn’t help but chuckle. “You all right?”
“I think my hair’s on fire…”
Falynn laughed louder. “You’re fine. Let’s go.”
