Fifteen minutes after Tessa had filed the request for transfer and sent it on its way through the system, Virek had caught it in his office console’s inbox and responded in turn with an immediate summons. Transfers and drops were to be expected, considering all that his pilots had been through, but Eisenherz was an LC, she’d seen hard situations before, and her rating as a pilot put her in the top five percent for rankings in the TCGND. Losing her would be a blow to the structure and the fighting prowess of the Von der Tann IV that he wasn’t going to simply accept– he’d fight it if he could, take it as far as he could in an attempt to change her mind. What he needed was information, an advantage, anything he could lever against her or use to understand her reasoning, combat her doubts, her fears, her reasons before she even arrived. Working from a point of knowledge, he could parry whatever she threw at him on a level field of reason and logic, make her see that her problems on the Von weren’t so bad, that they could be ironed out, could be set aside and worked through.
Stiff fingers touched the polyquid display of his console, hesitated momentarily before going to work across the sensitive touchscreen surface. Circumventing the normal restrictions of the network, he dug briefly into external, automatically generated notices and logs that the system had attached to her file, found nothing but a recommendation that she have her next flight physical within fifty-six days, and a notation that her rig was still awaiting transfer aboard the Wu Ang Hok. As a pilot, she had a clean, quiet record– only her Earthside academy days showed any sort of reprimands or citations, and then all merely for minor forms of insubordination that had been punished with time in isolation, janitorial duty, extra courses of training, that kind of thing. He sighed, scratched his chin, dug deeper into the system, going so far as to check into her personal outbox, tabbing the messages she’d sent from her console to display from newest to oldest and blinking as only two came up that were less than a week old. No fights, then, no complaints, no build up of heated exchanges. He thought. Or at least, none on record.
Blinking, he paged from one entry to another, absently hoping something might pop out at him. Just a maintenance call for a new mirror and the transfer request sent to my office. He sighed, rubbed at his eyes. Nothing. Just this request out of the blue– no reason, nothing.
And then he remembered.
The wake.
A quick glance through squadron records told him everything he needed to know. Lieutenant Izandra Copperfield had served with Eisenherz for practically as long as Eisenherz had been an LC. There was an investigation pending on the status of Copperfield’s quarters that had been tagged with a fifty-year wait period by an unknown and likely unauthorized user, and a system generated report about a total lack of activity in her shower system for more than six months. Virek allowed himself a small smile, knowing that there was probably a similar system report on Eisenherz’s file, a notation about a sudden drastic increase in shower use beginning at about the same time, but he didn’t bother to look. As an Admiral, he’d seen it all before, done it all before, been the Lieutenant with the note ‘puter who knew how to wire it into the guts of a console and change tags, forge logs, reroute comm circuits so they relayed automatically to another officer’s quarters. Officially, the Navy frowned on it, took a stance against its officers getting too close, but few Admirals enforced the policy absolutely. Most had the same views on it that Virek had– as long as it didn’t cause a problem, as long as no one got caught, he didn’t say anything.
So that’s it, then. He closed his eyes, breathed a tired sigh. The two must have been close for the loss to effect a pilot like Eisenherz so drastically. He frowned slightly, opened his eyes, let them roam blankly over the screen again. Everyone has their breaking point.
“That would explain the look on her face yesterday.” He said quietly, mind replaying memories of her stony features, the way she stood in the corner of the gauss bay like a broken statue carved from immovable ice, eyes staring like the eyes of a wounded wolf. It was the kind of look he knew all too well, a look that made him feel guilty every time he saw it on one of his pilots, every time he thought about it. It was his decisions that put men and women like Lieutenant Copperfield in danger, his orders, and he felt every life that was lost as a result, took a certain sense of responsibility from every face he saw on a coffin holograph surrounded by flowers. Sighing, he covered his old eyes with his hand, pulled in a deep breath. The door chime sounded an instant later.
“Come in.”
Stepping past the automatic door, Tessa stood just inside the office, her face pale and drawn, eyes tired, distant. Virek blinked, leaned back, regarded her rough cut hair with a cool, uncertain indifference.
“Eisenherz.” He pulled in a deep breath. “Your hair is different.”
“Yes sir.” She responded levelly, just the edge of shakiness playing through her tone. “I... just felt it was time for a change in my life.”
“Hmmm.” He nodded noncommitally, closed the screen of his console and knitted his fingers together on the surface of the desk between them. “So, Lieutenant Commander Eisenherz, commanding officer of Minerva Squadron.” He breathed a tired sigh, gestured for her to sit. “You’re putting in a request to transfer.”
“Yes sir.” She managed, picking her way slowly across the deck to his desk, flinching as the door whisked shut behind her.
“I don’t see a registry number on here.” He made a non-committal gesture at a nearby silicon note ‘puter. “Do you have a ship in mind?”
“Not yet, sir.” She swallowed, closed her eyes, pulled in a deep breath, opened them again. “I was, ah... actually half hoping you... might have a suggestion.”
Virek looked at her sideways, responded levelly. “And if I don’t?”
Tessa pulled in a quick breath, raised her chin slightly. “Then, I guess...” She gestured, shook her head. “I guess I’ll just read the names on the docking manifest when we get to TRS-88 and find one that sounds good to put in a transfer for.”
“That could be dangerous.” Virek said flatly. “Some of those ships see more action than we do. Some of them are given low-priority missions with a high casualty rate, some of them get some inglorious and forgettable duty like asteroid clocking and tagging closer to the core,” he paused, “and some of them are used as bait to draw the Coralate into Commonwealth offenses.” Pulling in a deep, thoughtful breath, he gave her a loose gesture. “None of it is good enough for a pilot of your caliber, in my opinion.”
“Honestly, sir, after Tarsis, I feel like I could handle anything.” She breathed a sigh, pushed fingers shakily back across her scalp. “Even something boring like rock duty.”
“This is about Lieutenant Copperfield, isn’t it?” Virek said suddenly, and Tessa looked away reflexively, closed her eyes as he continued. “Look, Eisenherz, do me a favor and give it a few days. Spend some time thinking about all that you have here before you do something you might regret.”
“I appreciate where you’re coming from, sir.” Tessa swallowed, forced herself to meet his eyes again. “I’ve thought about this. I know that this is the right decision.”
“The Von is a pretty prestigious assignment to get.” He shot back. “We don’t just take anybody.”
“Then it looks good on a resume.” She said simply, smiled weakly.
Virek sighed, let his eyes drift away from Tessa’s. In that moment, he knew he was beaten, knew that there was nothing he could say which would dissuade her or change her mind, but still he forced himself to meet her eyes again, to continue and say his piece.
“We’ve lost a lot of fine pilots lately.” He began, starting slowly, letting the edges of disappointment that pulled at his mind filter through his features and into his words. “Men and women that I never thought we’d lose. Men and women like Lieutenant Commander Susan Giller, and your own wingman, Izandra Copperfield.” He closed his eyes, shook his head, let his fingers knit together again, slowly and purposefully. “The truth is, you bring a lot to the table, Eisenherz. You’re probably one of my best pilots. I’d hate to see you go.”
“That means a lot to me sir,” Tessa smiled weakly again. “Thank you, really, but I’ve already made up my mind. Even though the Von is like home to me, even though her crew and pilots are like the family I’ve never really had...” She shook her head against the buds of tears that threatened to form in her eyes. “I have to do this. I have to go somewhere else, take a shot at living my own life, at finding something to live for other than that which I’ve already lost, other than Izzy.”
“Even if it means running away?” Came the level response.
Tessa nodded once, firmly.
“Even if it means running away.”
