002 the captain

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002 The Captain

Preposterous absolutely preposterous, thought Phalanx Commander Rham Vahld, insubordination

such the one the Captain was convicted for required a more severe punishment. Exile, is not severe

enough to be considered punishment. It’s not even anywhere near the pain of incarceration. Exile is a

fresh start! How can that be punishment? Exile is simply not harsh enough.

Rham took a mouthful rock brandy and tasted a fine grit of the residue of the filtering minerals

before he winced in pain as the strong liquid sliced down his throat. He raised his glass as he swirled the

clear gray liquid and decided that it still wasn’t quite strong enough to get his mind off things.

“Special Infantry Taskforce Captain Wilgar Ronce,” he muttered to himself. Slowly pronouncing

every syllable of the rank and name with all the disdain he could instill in it. But no matter how he tried,

he couldn’t make it contemptuous enough to rid the name of dignity. It still sounded so…so… important.

And that made him angrier. Wil Ronce was a decorated officer, so important it seems that his prison

transfer required a small contingent of soldiers from his own Phalanx. He got angrier still and threw his

glass hard against his door hoping that the sound of shattering glass would give release to his smoldering

anger. But he was further disappointed at the unsatisfying thud of what might be mistaken as the sound of

a rock hitting and rolling on the wooden floor.

“Moard! Once just once I’d like to see my luck change on this ship! I can’t even break a stupid wine

glass!” he grunted through clenched teeth. “Commander?” said a voice and a knock through the door. “Is

everything alright?”

“No, nothing’s alright,” Vahld mumbled inaudibly then he barked back at the voice, “Come!”

Rather than opening the door wide, the soldier opened just a big enough gap to enter the room

sideways and locked the door before turning around to face his commander afraid, slightly apprehensive

at the object that hit the door. He looked around quickly and his eyes settled on the Tubalon shot glass.

He realized his commander just tried to break the reputed unbreakable volcanic crystal shot glass.

“Pick that up,” he glowered, gesturing to the wineglass on the floor. The soldier did as he was told,

swiftly placed it within the commander’s reach and snapped right back to attention. The commander

puffed a big sigh and pressed his hands on the table to push himself upright. He tugged at the hem of his

shirt to straighten it, and paced threateningly in front of the rigid man. He stopped close enough for the

soldier to smell the alcohol in his breath.

“So a magnacled prisoner incapacitated two of you and was able to get away?” began the Phalanx

Commander in an even but menacing tone.

“He didn’t get away sir we put him bac—” the soldier’s head snapped back in a whiplash form the

force of the Commander’s backhanded slap.



“You got him back because he was stopped by one Kaivee old man and two Heads. Two Heads mind

you, and one of them was female,” he continued in a scarily even tone. “So I ask again how did he get

away?”

“He took us by surprise sir,” replied the soldier, his voice now softer, more wary, less confident to

justify himself. “He was fast and unexpected.”

The commander considered for a moment, and gave an almost imperceptible nod. “That he is, and

you underestimated him. He is…was Infantry Special Task Force, they’re trained in adaptive combat.

Fighting while bound is basic training for them.” The other man considered his superior officer’s input

and realized that it was correct. The Infantry Special Taskforce was good at what they did. And they did

receive advanced combat training.

“Does it hurt?” The commander touched the side of his own head indicating the place where the other

man was elbowed earlier.

“Not so much now sir, still a little shaky though.” He winced as he mirrored the commander’s

movements.

“How is the Sergeant?” inquired Vahld, preparing to pour another shot of rock brandy but he stopped

and put the bottle down.

“He’s not in any danger sir. He just can’t talk for the next week or so. His tongue was badly

wounded.”

“At least he’ll be quiet. Perhaps we should get him to bite his tongue on a regular basis,” the officer

chuckled to himself. “Anyhow this wasn’t a complete waste; makes you appreciate why we have such

protocols regarding the handling prisoners.” He paused a moment but continued as the other man tried to

respond. “Ronce was easy on you, he still respected your station. He could have killed you if he wanted

to. Any other prisoner of his caliber would have left you for dead,” Vahld’s voice took that level but

deadly serious tone again. Phalanx Commander Rham Vahld stared the soldier down so close they could

feel each others’ breaths. “If the Captain ever escapes you again, and he doesn‘t finish you, I will.” He

said in a whisper. “Is that understood?”

The soldier involuntarily swallowed, “Yes sir,” came the cracking reply.

“Good. Dismissed.”

Vahld wanted to get back to drinking but for the second time decided against it. He never was a

drunkard. And there was no reason to start becoming one now. Ronce, you and I are going to have some

talking to do, he thought. He left his stateroom and proceeded to go down another deck, to the room that



served as the Captain’s cell. As he neared the room he heard a hurried rustling. No doubt that it was the

guards who were startled at his footsteps and were trying to make a good show of alertness.

Sure enough, they were at attention and facing forward when he got there. He allowed himself an

inward smile and decided to let it go just this once. “Open it.” The one with the keys turned the lock,

opened the door and went back to attention. The commander wanted to command them to be at ease but

decided not to. That would serve as their disciplinary action. That’s as far as he would go to punishing

these guards today. He decided to let go of the rage he felt in his stateroom when he received the guard’s

report. He wanted to have the air of control when he talks to the Captain who quickly rose up, sat at the

edge of his bedside, placed his magnacled hands between his knees and straightened his back. Despite the

show of toughness, the bruise under his left eye was swollen and closed that eye almost completely. Still

acting like an officer, Vahld observed.

He turned his head to one side and ordered the guards, “Deactivate the magnacles.”

“Sir?” came a confused reply.

“Deactivate the magnacles,” he repeated, “Is there a problem with your hearing soldier?”

“No sir, just that we put those on him so that he won’t be – ”

“I know why we put it on him I gave that order. And I’m ordering now to deactivate it. I will not have

him looking like a whipped child when I’m talking to him.”

“That won’t be necessary Commander,” suggested the Captain.

“I did not address you Captain,” Vahld replied without looking at Vahld keeping his eyes still fixed at

the squirming officer, only a pointing finger signaled that the remark was meant for the Captain. “I want

it deactivated now,” he repeated in a firmer tone.

Two beeps signaled the deactivation of the magnetic fields and the prisoner’s wrists finally separated.

The guard kept his thumb on the remote and his partner brought out his Standard Issue Tactical Weapon

and trained it on the Captain.

“There’s no need for that soldier,” Vahld commanded, and then he turned to Ronce, and spoke with a

softer voice, “is there Captain?”

“No there isn’t,” he replied, wincing at the slight pain caused by the sudden separation of his wrists

which pulled on his injured chest muscles where he was rammed earlier back at the promenade deck by

that female Head. He took a sharp deep breath and exhaled the pain slowly away.

“See? Now, holster that weapon, that’s an order,” instructed the Commander. Reluctantly, the gun

was put away and neither Vahld nor Ronce stirred. Vahld took an involuntary deep breath which betrayed

his relief. Ronce managed a thin smile. “Right, so, uhm… clean up and change your clothes. Wear



something…normal, anything but your uniform.” Vahld raised a hand to squelch the beginnings of an

objection. “Don’t worry I promise you can still have it later.”

“And why would I need to dress up?” the Captain asked.

“We’re going to the galley.”

It felt good to be out of the room. It was good to have fresh clothes on and not have his hands bound.

The magnacles were still there. But for the moment they have been turned off and there was no need for

pretense or excessive caution. Right here right now in open sea, no one had anything to gain by doing

something stupid. Despite their actual roles in the present, they shared a table and a decent dinner like two

old friends would.

The Captain got disturbing stares from fellow patrons and attendants in the galley upon seeing his

battered face. Most of the observers immediately pulled their eyes away from him and went back to what

was apparently normal conversation. It was obviously not normal since a third of them were quiet just

before they came in and started muttering after he entered the galley.

“What are you having?” asked Rham.

“Fish if they have it, with a dark sweet spicy sauce. You’re buying?”

“Like you have money,” reminded the commander. “Anyway regulations state that we should be

feeding you properly. Locked up or not, you’d be eating food cooked from this galley anyway, paid for by

our department. All I did was give you a choice, and a change in setting. So if that’s it, I’ll call an

attendant already and we’ll order, I’m hungry,” reminded the commander. Vahld clapped twice loudly,

and immediately an attendant scurried over to his table, head bowed waiting for an order.

Food was served half an hour later. A large but light fillet of fish was served to the Captain smothered

in the dark sweet spicy sauce that he requested. The commander had a plate of succulent shrimp drizzled

with a light oil and seasoned with spices served along a side of vegetables. The two men ate casually and

were pleasantly surprised that the food was prepared excellently in Rylexéan fashion. Were it not for the

injuries that were irritating the Captain, as he chewed, his dinner would have been perfect.

“Let me ask you something Wilgar,” Vahld cut and ate a section of shrimp, “where do you think you

were going, running away like that?”

The Captain Wilgar Ronce was annoyed at the commander using his first name. He took a big gulp at

his glass of Tubalon Rum and made a face at the potency of the alcohol. “Away, just away. Even I would

agree that it was a stupid move. It just seemed right at the time. Vahld,” Ronce shrugged and swirled a

piece of the fish in the sauce and shoved it in his mouth obviously indicating his discomfort at the first

name address.

“So you were aware that there’d be no where to run on this ship?”



“I did.”

“That is classic Taskforce Captain Wilgar Ronce behavior isn’t it,” the commander recited the

complete name and rank with mock enthusiasm and exaggerated cadence, gesticulating pompously like a

politician driving home a point. “You do what you want to do consequences be damned.”

“I can take the consequences,” Wilgar drained his glass meant to bring it down with great force but

stopped within an inch of the table and firmly, quietly set it down. The Phalanx commander followed the

empty glass with his eyes, winced slightly, anticipating a loud knock on the table and stared at the empty

glass, then smiled wryly at his prisoner.

“You could have stomped on that glass and not break it. Believe me I tried,” the commander paused.

“So, brilliant and decorated officer Ronce can do anything he wishes because he can take the

consequences? Is that another one of your truisms from the famous ROR, the Rules of Ronce?” Vahld’s

voice was taking one a contemptuous tone. The reason for this dinner and change of atmosphere was now

becoming clear to Captain Ronce.

“Take that any way you like,” replied Captain in clipped tones.

The commander responded just as curtly. “We haven’t met till this prisoner transport assignment, but

I’ve heard of you, I’ve heard of ‘Rocket Ronce’ the fastest rising star of the Rylexéan Infantry Division,

the commanding officer of ‘Ronce’s Recruits’. It was always Ronce’s this and Ronce’s that. More than a

few officers were irritated at the fad that you’ve become.”

Ronce said nothing.

“I’ve heard of your ‘unique’ training methods that made your recruits score consistently higher than

your fellow trainers. How you never shared any of these methods to anyone else to maintain your edge.”

Vahld’s tone was obviously accusatory now. “You know what, I don’t believe any of that infantry poster

boy image that you pretend to exude. I think you’re a fraud and that you got that far by cheating.”

“How original, Phalanx Commander.” Ronce said with obvious sarcasm. “Yes that must be the best

explanation anyone has regarding somebody exceeding expectations. He must have cheated, very clever.”

He stared down the commander with his one open eye. “However the fact remains that I didn’t. All I did

was get to know my recruits better and taught in a way suit the way they learn. And because my men did

better than theirs, cheating is what they…you come up with as an explanation. Everyone accepts it. Why?

So that they won’t need to face the possibility that this rookie, out did them.”

“So you’re a pioneer of modern military instruction,” the Commander said with feigned admiration,

“I never knew how cutting edge you were. Look, being a soldier isn’t about being user friendly. It’s not

about how you can turn a person into a soldier it’s about finding the soldier in the person and bringing it

out.” He poked the table with his finger in cadence to his speech to emphasize his point “I wouldn’t go so



far as saying as people are born to become soldiers. But the fact remains that we look for people with the

disposition that we know makeup a good soldier. If they would fail they should fail as early as possible.”

“I get them through training, meeting each and every objective set by the Curriculum Board at the

Academy. I fulfill the syllabus in theoretical, practical and pressure testing exams. What is wrong with

what I’ve accomplished?” Ronce countered.

“I can’t put my finger on it, I really can’t quite put my finger on it, but I have the feeling that by

settling them in, into the system instead of rattling out their civilian antics out of them as we’ve always

done, you’ve churned out recruits who maybe academically passable but deep down doesn’t have the

hardness required for duty. Your recruits are too soft. Rookie”

“Frankly I don’t know what makes a soldier tough or weak. And I don’t see my methods making my

trainees weaker. If the results say anything about it, it’s to the contrary,” Ronce found himself raising his

voice and didn’t like that he fell of the commander’s bait. “Commander, I have no quarrel with you.”

Ronce said with an even controlled voice recovering from the earlier outburst. He didn’t want another

fight on his hands. “You are the officer assigned to me and I respect your position and responsibility. But

if that’s all then dinner has been great. Could I return to my cell now please?”

“Sit down,” the commander said in response to the captain who was already half risen from his seat.

“I have not given you your leave nor have you requested it. You are forgetting your military courtesy,

Captain. Is this what you teach to your recruits?”

“I’m sorry, sir” Ronce forced a formal tone. “Is there anything else sir?”

“Look, we obviously don’t like each other and this escort mission for your exile is the worst

assignment I’ve ever received. I don’t like this ship, I don’t like the people and I don’t like where we’re

going. I’ve never cared for Kaivee territory or wooden passenger ships. But your sentence is unusual,

exile.” Vahld managed a snicker before tossing back a shot of the Rum down his throat. “Dishonorable

discharge would have been simpler. But I guess they were afraid you had too many loyal followers which

may demoralize your unit. But you know what I think?” He paused for effect. “I think someone is looking

out for you.”

“That’s ridiculous. How does getting exiled come to mean that someone is looking out for me?”

Ronce asked not following the other’s logic.

“Well think about it,” Vahld pointed a finger at Ronce while still holding his glass. “They gave you

a…what did they call it..a..an..an indefinite suspension of services. They even left you your rank, though

you have no command. Think about it, in one way or another you’re still in the fold.”

“In the fold with complimentary magnacles, fancy jewelry I’d say. Is it part of the new dress code?”

“You’re not listening to me!” The commander grunted through clenched teeth. “They seem to want

you disciplined but not thrown out. Don’t take my word for it I’m definitely not in the loop. But I smell



higher powers at work here. Look for all it’s worth I’m sorry for the beating my men gave you and off the

record, thanks for setting them straight. We’re it not for the Court Martial’s order which gives me specific

authority over you, you’d be commanding me Captain, we both know that.” He paused again trying to

make sure he was getting the Captain’s full attention now. “Whatever is going on someone making sure

you don’t get too hurt. I have no idea why coz if it were up to me I’d kick you out. But seeing that you do

have this second chance I suggest you don’t waste it.”

The Captain gave the commander a skeptical look. “I’d guess that’s their idea of adding insult to

injury, a rank with no command and no compensation. It’s like being given a gun loaded with blanks or

an empty scabbard. No commander, this is a mockery of my station I am sufficiently mocked.” Bitterness

was now obvious in the captain’s voice.

“You know as well as I that sentences aren’t ruled that way. You may be called many different names

by your detractors, me included, but stupid is not a word I have ever heard used to describe you. So stop

being stupid. Mark my words, You’ll be back.”

It’s been three nights since that dinner and he still couldn’t take his mind out of that night’s

conversation. He’ll be off this ship tomorrow, 3rd Pier of the south port of the Loovimine Peninsula, at

least that’s what they told him though that doesn’t exactly mean anything to him. As far as he’s concerned

one port is as good as the next one.

The conversation somehow still bothered him, the suggested reasons for his exile instead of his

outright dismissal. Vahld suggested that someone was looking out for him. That seemed very farfetched.

He couldn’t recall anything exemplary enough to merit any attention. No. He was deluding himself if he

was going to pin his hopes on the word of his jailer. He always did his best and prepared for the worst.

It’s served him well so far.

Right now he was content to have this night under the stars. He looked up and found familiar

constellations. He remembered how the sky looked when his father was teaching him about night

navigation. He didn’t understand what he was going on about, finding the guide star on the eastern sky.

Keep that to your right and you’ll be facing north, his father said. He realized that the night sky is all he

would have left that would remind him of home it’s the only thing that wouldn’t be alien to him. He laid

down on nearby bench there in the promenade, placed his hands behind his head, and tried to make

himself comfortable. But it felt to him like resting his head on a pipe, his magnacles were still in place

and he couldn’t remove it. He decided to just ignore it and start getting used to it. It wouldn’t be coming

off anytime soon, so he lay down again and continued to gaze at the stars.

It was good to be alone, he decided, without his guards. Well, not quite without them, they were still

there he mused, in plain clothes and not in his immediate vicinity. He turned his head and saw them and



gave them a nod. They nodded back. They gave him a wide berth, content to maintain visual contact.

Their orders were to watch him. They decided to follow that order to the letter, just watch and nothing

else. These two guards assigned to him heard of what happened to the other two. They preferred to

remain uninjured for one more night.

His mind drifted again to his ever present magnacles and was glad that they have remained

deactivated since that dinner. In return he gave them no reason to turn it on. He cooperated with his jailers

made conversation and maintained a general good mood. For the time being, he stopped thinking of

himself as a prisoner. At least now he can bring his arms behind his head.

The Captain realized that even under these circumstances, this contingent was the last bit of contact

he’ll ever have from the Rylexéan military. Maybe he’ll even miss them.

He closed his eyes and breathed the salty sea air. It was actually refreshing, and he took in as much of

this time as he could for himself. The gentle breeze and the soft rocking of the ship on the waves lulled

him into a light sleep.

The Legal Officer Hiero Compahn paused to draw their attention to himself. This was his case. Hewas going to win it. He will have Ronce and it will be a big win. There will be a conviction.

He turned to the stand and raised an eyebrow which looked like an arrowhead pointing to hisamazing head of fiery red hair. He paced the courtroom pressing a finger to his lips.

All eyes were on him now and Ronce was on the stand looking unperturbed. This was an intelligent,highly qualified and ultimately overconfident young officer. Overconfidence, youth and naiveté that will

be what he’ll appeal to, that will be Ronce’s downfall.“And you believe you could disobey the order because…” he trailed his voice cuing the captain to fill

in the blanks.

“Sir, I was trying to save my unit from getting decimated sir.”“Decimated? Such a loaded word don’t you think Captain. Surely, while every mission has its share

of dangers don’t you think that’s a bit overdramatic?”

“Sir, I believe the situation we faced then required act in a most expedient manner us to modify theexecution of our mission, Sir.”

“Your mission was to rescue Lt. Mallors and secure the coded message. Correct?”“Sir, that is correct, sir.”

“Then why did you evacuate without the Lieutenant?”“Sir the Lt. Mallors was not at the designated extraction point. We waited for three minutes for his

arrival before we decided to withdraw, Sir.”“Did you know that the Lieutenant was about to make it to your extraction point just another minute

later? Comm transcripts made that clear. And because you withdrew, his escape route was blocked and

the enemy found him and executed him on the spot.” stated the lawyer as he began his tirade, his voice following a crescendo.

“The enemy deserted their camp but left his body behind for us to find. The lieutenant is dead, we lost

the information and the enemy got away. Tell me do you even have anything to show for it? Captain Ronce a man is dead because of your desertion.” The prosecutor let the question hang certain that theanswer to his question was obvious, which is why the Captain’s prompt reply staggered him.

“That is affirmative, sir.”

On cue Counsel for Captain Ronce sprang up from his seat grinning. “Honorable Arbiter, I would like to present to this Court Martial the audio recording of Lt. Mallors inside contact from behind enemy



lines. The recording contains salvaged information the same information that was gathered and lost inthat operation.”

The arbiter propped up from his seat and leaned forward and addressed the Captain. “Do you meanto say that despite the death of Lt. Mallors his objective was accomplished?”

“Sir yes sir.”“How was that possible?”

“Sir, after the failed extraction we monitored the extraction point from a concealed location and decided to come back after the enemy left, sir. Mallors was briefed to hide the information and pass on to

a contact the means of retrieving it in case of a failed extraction. ”The prosecution decided to press the line of questioning. “And how did you know who had the

Mallors’ information?”“Sir, I checked Mallors’ mission files sir.” Had it been any other grilling he would have allowed

himself a smile. But he knew how that would not go to well so he took a deep breath to compose himself for an entirely different reason than what the prosecution thought.

“Excuse me?”the prosecutor obviously puzzled and now also obviously irritated at how smug thisCaptain, “Who gave you access to Mallor’s operation logs and reports?”

“Sir, I am authorized sir. As commanding officer of the rescue mission I had clearance to see the filesof the objective, eyes only of course. His files contained details of his mission updates and the name of his

contact was in his report sir.”

“Hello?...Hello?,” an unfamiliar invaded Ronce’s sleep and he was awake even before he opened his

eyes. He still saw pin pricks of light in the sky so he knew he wasn’t asleep for that long. When he did

open his eyes, he saw the old man from earlier that week, the one that blocked his way and got him

caught.

“Can I help you?” Was the most polite thing he could think of saying showing no indication that he

was about to rise from the bench he was lying down on.

“I’m sorry to wake you young man but I need to talk to you.”

The fatherly tone of the man was beginning to irritate the Captain. He was a stranger that acted like

they were already friends, they weren’t. And it wasn’t likely that they would ever become friends.

“Oh come now young man, don’t scowl, I did it for your own good. You obviously weren’t going

anywhere and they would have beaten you worse if they caught you later if not sooner. You have skill

and I suspect discipline, but your character needs a little more work. My name is Bahtid by the way.” He

gave that fatherly smile again. That irritated Ronce enough for him to throw himself forward to sit

straight up.

“My character? You don’t even know me, I’ve never met you before.”

“I’ve met your kind before.”

“My kind?” Ronce made a face to show his disbelief at the remark. “Is that some kind of racist

remark from one of the people of the Sky Kissed Skin?” referring to the self aggrandizing

characterization that the Kaivee use to refer to themselves.



“Oh no, I wasn’t referring to your being Rylexéan if that’s what you though I meant. I was referring

to the other obvious fact, you are an exile, a Rylexéan exile, most probably a transferee to the Rylexéan

Foreign Contingent since you were sent here.”

“The Foreign Contingent?” the remark startled Ronce because the thought hadn’t crossed his mind.

He was doubly startled that it took a Kaivee to present that possibility to him. Yet strangely it made

sense. It was a win-win for the High Command to reassign him there. It ensured them that he will still

serve his Federation but far enough away from the motherland to get him out of sight. “How do you know

about the Foreign Contingent?” He managed to ask.

“I know quite a bit about the unit which the men themselves like to call the Wicked Brew,”

anticipating the next question, “they call themselves that because they think they’re the baddest mix ever

to be put together as an armed unit and that everyone’s scared of them,” the elder smirked with that last

remark.

“I’m sorry is this what you woke me up for, small talk about Wicked Brew?”

“Captain…” he paused for effect and saw the other man’s face look startled, “Don’t be so surprised. I

have ears and they’ve heard others calling you that. And the other day…during the time we crossed

paths,” the elder smiled and the play on words amused the captain as well. And it was late, the stern

officer’s countenance that he tried to put up would not recover from the smile that was seeping through.

“I’ve come to apologize and welcome you to Loovimine.”

“Forgive me if I’m not so enthusiastic about your welcome Elder,” it was the Captain’s turn to show

off his powers of observation, inflecting the word in the Kaivee manner to show that he was referring to

the man’s title and not his age. “Don’t look so surprised,” the Captain mimicked, “I have eyes and I know

the status of the clothes you wear albeit not an official uniform. The bearing, the confidence, the age and

the wisdom, I may even venture a guess of High Elder if I’m not mistaken. Gat isn’t it? That is the formal

term of respect?”

The elder’s eyes brightened as if in appreciation of a good student that understood an important

lesson. “Very good Captain, but I wish you wouldn’t say that out loud,” he smiled. “I am trying to travel

incognito.”

002 the captain

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