Polaris Sector, Battleship Singularity
The exercise of doing the rounds gave Admiral Gives a feel for the crew's mood, and it generally helped morale. It gave the crew a constant, and often made them more willing to approach him. He supposed, to them, meeting him on the rounds was more relaxed than seeking him out on the bridge or in his office. They saw it as a gesture of willingness to look eye to eye with the lowest echelons of the crew. Too many of their previous officers had confined themselves to the bridge or officer's lounge, never to speak with the majority of those under their command.
The rounds were also a reminder to himself – a daily reminder of his responsibility to these people, to this crew. It was how he learned their faces and names, how he remembered their duties and personalities. If he didn't learn that, speak to them, and see them every day, it became easier to distance himself and sacrifice their lives for the mission. But he didn't want to make it easy. He didn't want to do that. And so, the rounds had become his reminder, forcing him to know those that could die on his orders.
Before combat, these rounds were a torturous burden, and afterward, they were nothing but pain. The crew would look at him with betrayal in their eyes, as if he'd wanted their comrades to die, even if that couldn't be further from the truth. But still, he forced himself through the rounds, even after combat. That pain was a penance for losing lives that he'd been sworn to protect.
Today, however, there was no betrayal in the crew's eyes. The ship had escaped without casualties from the encounter with Squadron 26 and the battle in the Wilkerson Sector. There was uncertainty among the crew, anxious about their future without Command, but the Admiral knew continuing his regular schedule of rounds was a sign of promise to them: not everything would be different. The things this ship had given them over the years, be it a sense of purpose, a home, or a sense of family, those things would still be here, even without Command.
On his rounds, the Admiral generally let the crew approach him, but there were exceptions. The engineering chief was one of them, and Ty, like his predecessor, was found in the engineering spaces, the senior engineering staff gathered around him as he handed out shift assignments.
Ty was a big fellow, and he was near-shouting to be heard over the sound of machinery this far aft. It was abnormally warm so near the engines too, an imperfection in the heating and cooling systems, so most of the engineers had tied the top half of their orange coveralls around their waists. Below, they wore plain uniform shirts or tank tops.
The Admiral didn't interrupt the engineers. The Chief would speak to him when ready and it served him to observe the crew's interactions with one another. Through that, he could determine if the ship had a healthy working environment, another subtle but key detail in maintaining a stable command.
"Hi, Admiral."
Turning, he watched someone step up beside him. "Ensign Smith," he greeted, "good morning."
Callie was one of the few crew that spoke willingly with him. On his rounds, she regularly sought him out either here or on the hangar deck. He wasn't quite sure why. His disposition was not generally considered friendly, and he wasn't much of a conversationalist. Their interactions rarely ever went beyond generic niceties, but he didn't mind. "How are you doing?"
Callie smiled. "I'm okay." As one of the least experienced crew, she had no business in Chief Ty's meeting with the senior engineers, but she'd come down to wait for her daily assignment. Likely, she'd be working here with the main engines, as she usually did. "But I guess I have you to thank for that." If he hadn't come to the rescue, Command's soldiers probably would have killed her and Malweh.
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"I only did my job, Ensign." He thought little else of it.
"I know," she said. He would never take credit beyond it being his so-called responsibility, but she knew there weren't many commanders who would have put themselves in harm's way to rescue two engineers. "Still, thank you." She'd been scared, but once again, she was lucky enough to walk away.
Callie was earnest. Sincere. That had always stuck out to him. Many of the crew were stiff and uncomfortable in his presence, but not her. Callie was simply what he assumed to be her usual self. It made him feel a little more welcome among the crew. Truly, though he would never outwardly admit it, he was glad to see her uninjured and unafraid. That said, there were dark rings under her eyes, rings that didn't belong on a face so young. "Are you certain everything is alright, Ensign? You look tired."
"Yeah," she said, stretching a little. "Since repairs are behind, me and a few others skipped our rack time."
Behind? "When did repairs fall behind?"
Callie furrowed her brows. "Last night."
"Why was I not appraised?" They were getting ready to start their operation – an operation where timing was absolutely critical. In such action, his awareness of the ship's condition was crucial. "What was the problem?"
"I don't understand." Why was he asking that?
"Why was I not informed of the issue?" he asked, holding a carefully neutral expression. Whatever had happened, it likely wasn't Smith's fault. "I should have been informed."
"You weren't informed because your orders caused the delay," Ty said, stepping up behind Callie. Against his barrel of a chest, Smith seemed tiny.
"Pardon?" The only order Admiral Gives had given was to push as hard as possible on repairs while ensuring the engineers didn't totally exhaust themselves. As much as he needed the ship fully repaired, he also knew he needed the crew rested and aware for combat.
Ty crossed his arms, a sheen of sweat shining on his face in the heat and humidity of the engine room. "I told you I was going to have to reassign crew from repairs and that would delay the hull work." Ty had found it odd, but knew better than to question orders. "You said the central computer had to take priority."
The computer? Usually that was the last thing restarted after repairs. It had to be done after the power grid was completely stabilized, meaning the grid had to be patched and tested first. The computer retained some operational capability as long as it had power, but lacked most of its processing ability and stored data until fully brought back online. The hull and armor, which helped protect the ship from further damage, had obvious repair priority.
"We're only a couple hours behind," Ty explained. "Luckily for you, Callie and a few others came in to work during what should have been their rest period." Ty had needed the extra hands to conduct repairs, but he wasn't happy to see his comrades forgoing needed rest.
"I gave specific instructions as to the priority of repairs, Chief." The hull and armor went first. "External repairs were to be finished before we disembark."
Ty shook his big head. "They won't be. And you okayed that late last night when you told us to get the computer up and running."
"I did no such thing."
"Yes, you did." There had been a time where Ty never would have argued with the Admiral, but becoming the engineering chief had changed him. Manners be damned, he was in the right here and he knew it. "You told me last night that you needed some of the computer's files. One of the yeomen pulled them early this morning." Ty could only assume it had been important. "Dealing with the computer delayed us about six hours. Even with volunteers skipping rack time, we're still three hours behind."
