Universal Terrestrial Date: 2043-09-14-23.24.55
To: Interstellar Transportation Authority, Office of the Vice Minister
Re: Conditions Onboard The Goliath
Reynold, I don't have time to write everything I need to, but you must send this to VM Zhang as soon as you get this. Capt. Verner has violated all international laws since the transfer of authority from the EF to UCR. He does not intend to deliver supplies to the colonies, he intends to take control of them. Unclear whether he is following orders or if this is a rogue operation, but he has complete control over the ship. All crew have either been imprisoned or have submitted to his authority. He is treating the women onboard like UCR citizens despite the international charter agreement. You must send help and override the ship's controls ASAP. It will be too late once we arrive at the colonies. I'm sending this through a partitioned comms system, I don't know if they will detect. I won't be able to receive a reply, but you can't let them know I've sent this or they will punish me. I may be dead by the time you get this anyway. I am resisting Verner as best I can but few are willing to do so. Don't believe anything Verner says. Send help. -Dr. Claudia Lydale, FO Goliath ID CODE 255FJ-34L-355EB-992
The knock on the door sent a shockwave through her body, and Claudia hit
send
at once. Only years of military training kept her giving into panic.
"Commander Lydale, sorry to startle you." Lieutenant Hargrave's voice gave no indication of regret, and when Claudia turned to face him he made no attempt to hide his amusement. He was slouching against the doorframe, narrow enough that even his lanky frame blocked it completely.
"Who gave you permission to enter my quarters?" She used her very real anger at his disrespectful posture and tone to push her fear down further.
"Captain's Mandate 345 --
no female crew member can deny entry to male crew members regardless of rank
. Didn't you see the memo?"
"I have better things to do than read the mad ramblings of that man." She spat. "Now get out." Hargrave's bark of laughter infuriated her, but she knew she had to be careful. Whatever it took, she couldn't give them a reason to search her computer - not until she'd had time to wipe all evidence of the transmission. Until then it was a smoking gun giving the Captain the excuse he needed to throw her in the brig.
She tensed in her seat as Hargrave sauntered over to her desk, leaning far too close for comfort.
"Don't worry, I won't tell the Captain what you just called him. We're entitled to our own opinions after all. And he said the transition would be particularly hard on women like you, who have been deluded into thinking they're equal."
"
Why are you here
, officer?" Claudia asked sharply. It would be so easy to break his nose with her head from this angle. So easy.
"Just following orders. The Captain asked me to escort you to his quarters."
"What? It's eleven o'clock at night. If this is an urgent message why didn't he intercom me?"
"He knew you'd be confused. I'm here to make sure you don't get lost on your way to his quarters." Hargrave brushed a hand over her shoulder, lingering near her collarbone -- just the slightest hint of menace in his grip.
"Oh, and he asked to remind you to wear the
new
uniform," Hargrave smirked. Claudia gritted her teeth and considered her options. Any other time she would throw this pathetic excuse for an officer out of her room and have him reprimanded for the dozen infractions he'd committed in the last ten minutes.
But she needed to buy time. Not just time to wipe her computer -- if the message hadn't gone through, or if the European Federation didn't take her seriously, then she would have to figure out a way to stop Verner herself.
She sighed deeply and stood up, jerking away from Hargrave's hand.
"Wait outside. I'll let you know when I've finished changing." She glared at him, and for a moment thought he would insist on staying to watch while she disrobed. But he smirked again and gave a lazy salute.
"Yes, Commander." He waltzed out of the room, hands in his pockets -- every gesture and movement making it clear that he was playing along but knew as well as she did that he didn't have to listen to her. Not anymore.
Claudia changed slowly, trying to guess what Verner wanted to speak to her about, and trying to decide what the best course of action would be in response. Just several months ago she had thought of him with grudging respect. He was loud and masculine in the way one would expect of a UCR officer -- but he was older than her by well over a decade, and his experience in InterStellar travel was impressive.
And at first, he and the rest of the UCR men were not so different from the other global cohorts. They followed protocol, were polite -a few were even friendly- to the rest of the crew. He was not the ranking captain on board and had never shown Captain Uhler anything but the utmost respect.
Then a medical emergency had incapacitated Uhler. Once she was sent home, authority had transferred to Verner. It was all in accordance with the international protocols governing space travel, and Claudia had not felt any misgivings. Her only concerns at the time were whether Captain Uhler would recover.
But ever since that day, Verner had slowly implemented complete control over the ship, and had ignored any international protocol that limited his authority. Crew who argued or disobeyed were given warnings and thrown in the brig.
The new uniforms for the women crewmembers were the latest power play by Verner. They were a joke -- a disgusting encapsulation of everything the UCR stood for. The thinnest material available on the ship, a silky gray nylon meant for sleepwear and some parts of the exercise uniforms -- had been turned into a dress well-suited for a nightclub, not a military uniform.
A deep V-neck exposed the tops and inner sides of her breasts, and structured cups had been sewn into to push them up and closer together. Bras of any kind were prohibited. As a woman with generous curves, it was extremely uncomfortable. Her cleavage was impossible to ignore, and she was sure that more of her breasts were exposed than covered.
The material clung to her hip and waist, and the hem barely reached past her thighs. If she bent over even slightly she would be flashing everyone in the vicinity. Panties were permitted for hygienic reasons, but even that was hardly more than a gesture of propriety.
Long sleeves, sheer black tights, and high boots completed the parody of a uniform. They'd also been instructed to leave their hair down and to wear makeup, but Claudia refused -- stubbornly keeping her long black hair in its usual twisted bun and foregoing makeup.
She did, however, continue to pin her First Officer badge to her right shoulder -- much higher than it should have been placed, and making the thin material sag. But it stayed in place.
Feeling exposed and vulnerable, she looked around the small bedchamber for reassurance. This was the room assigned to her by the InterStellar Transportation Authority, backed by the United Nations. It might be small, and minimal, but it was comfortable, clean, and safe. Everything from the beige comforter to the slim bamboo desk was familiar and a reminder that her place and rank on this ship was not subject to the whims of a madman.