Transmigrant - Chapter 8
Copyright © 2024 Stephen B. Anthony
Money doesn’t matter. Legacy does.
—Katsu Niruku, Anatomy of Power
CHAPTER 8
Captain Ellen Lamond’s office maintained a simple, almost sparse ambiance. Devoid of wall decorations or family pictures, it housed little more than a tablet and holoviewer atop the clean, white desk. Lamond, a woman in her late sixties with graying hair, adorned herself in a pristine formal white uniform, embellished with many colorful medals which contrasted with the otherwise austere setting.
“Ichiro.” She smiled warmly and shook his hand. “It’s been a long time.”
“Thank you, Captain,” he said. “Good to see you. How’s Reggie?”
“Pining for a golf course, I’m afraid,” she said.
Ichiro smiled. “Sounds like retirement is working for him.”
“Yes, and of course, he wants me to join him. He keeps telling me I’ve already given the fleet my due. I suppose he’s right. I’ve got my time in.”
“Yes, ma’am, you do.”
“Are you saying I’m old, Ichiro?”
“That was the furthest thing from my mind.”
“Well, it’s nonsense anyway. We can’t seem to let go of this idea that people must retire by the time they are seventy. It’s not like we’re still in the second millennium. I know of officers who have served the fleet for over fifty years. It’s rare, I know, but I’ve served just over forty. Yes, I can retire, but what will I do—stroll around on a thousand golf courses with Reggie? Besides, some things have changed.”
“Could be worse things than a golf course or two, Captain,” he said.
“Yes, there’s something to be said about that. Now, have a seat. Let’s talk about your crew. What do you plan to do with the civilians?”
“I’ve been debating that,” he said.
“What’s to debate?”
“I’m planning on bringing them with me.”
“Unskilled civilians? What purpose would they serve on this mission?”
“They are all related to Niruku.”
“Yes,” she said, “That’s what worries me. If we can place someone close to Kannon Niruku, there’s a chance he can do the same to us.”
“I trust these three,” he said.
“Including Estia?” Lamond asked. “Decker and Stewart make sense to me, but Estia could be a plant.”
“Possibly,” Ichiro said, “And I’ve considered that. But I just don’t think so. She doesn’t exaggerate her denials. It seems natural, and I get a sense of naivety from her. I don’t think she is acting.”
“Nevertheless, there is a risk. I’d rather you take trained fleet personnel,” she said.
“I honestly think there are more unknowns that way,” Ichiro countered. “You never know where a person’s loyalties truly lie when it comes to gigantic sums of money for underpaid service members, not that I doubt them. But I think all three of them are starting opposed to Niruku rather than neutral, as might be the case with others.”
She leaned back in her chair, placing her fingertips together, forming a triangle. “It’s either genius or madness. But it’s your crew and your call. Still, they will need to be cleared, but I’ve taken the liberty to check into that.”
“You know you can do that under an emergency order,” Ichiro said. “I think this qualifies. They are my crew.”
“I wish you’d reconsider,” she said, engaging her VRD and placing three tablets on her desk. “But I know you won’t, so there’s no use prolonging the inevitable. Bring them in.”
“Thank you,” Ichiro said. Leading his crew, he went to the door of Lamond’s office and ushered them inside. He indicated the three chairs for the civilians, but remained standing.
“Good morning,” Lamond said, crossing from her desk to shake hands with them. “Mr. Hoshi has informed me he’s keeping you on as his crew. Normally, I’d reject this hair-brained scheme, but I know you each have your beef with Niruku, and all three of you could be useful. Everything that I’m about to tell you is classified. Do you understand that?”