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“All right,” Brooks said to the mostly-empty meeting room.  “We’ve got a few issues to sort out.”

The only officers present were Urle, Jaya, and Zeela.

Every other officer was already up to their eyes in duties, checking over their respective sections with a fine-tooth comb to check for post-battle damage.

Operations had been first to go, using the lion share of resources; after a battle you had to be sure you were ready for the next fight.  You rarely had a choice about when an engagement started.

Which meant Jaya was currently one of the few officers caught up on her post-battle work.

And Zeela, well . . . he could always count on her.  She had her own hands full, but he knew she had a large cabal of effective support staff who she expertly delegated appropriate duties to.  Administration was practically a separate government within the command structure.

“Jaya, in an hour you will meet with Lt. Commander Ebbe and hand over what’s left of Hoc Rem along with the originals of the data drives.”

She nodded and looked to Urle.  “You have completed the copy of those drives?”

“Yep,” Urle replied.  “We have duplicated those and also captured atomic-snaps of the drives so we can potentially reconstruct any data that might get corrupted.”

Brooks watched his friend and Executive Commander carefully as he spoke.

The man seemed mostly back to normal, but Brooks knew he was somewhat off.  Ever since he’d gotten that memory fragment from a murdered man, experienced the man’s death . . .  He had been bothered on some level.

Which seemed entirely appropriate.  But Brooks wanted to make sure to keep an eye on him.

“After you have passed that off to Ebbe, you’re to report to the bridge and monitor things there, Jaya,” Brooks continued.

“Is a detachment of the Glorian Task Force still moving our way?” she asked.

“Yes.  They are still outside of effective combat range, but unless they change course we expect them to enter the outer fringes of that in about six hours.”

Jaya leaned forward.  “Do we have any reason to expect them to initiate hostilities?”

“Frankly, no.  And lots of reasons for them not to.  The situation they were causing last week is beginning to defuse, reports say.  It amounted to nothing, but also no loss of face for them, at least in their eyes.  So, while we can never rule out a warmongering force commander, they are likely just posturing and perhaps hoping for some sensor scans.”

“Very well.  I will keep our drone defenses on max and dissuade their attempts at spying.”

“Good.  All right, Zeela, I know you’re busy, but I’d like you to focus on immigrant selection.  Given our recent issue with an attempted killer on one of our shuttles, I’d like to be extra thorough.  If you do find anyone you find questionable, then pass them on to Urle for another point of view.”

“Yes, Captain,” Zeela said.  “What is going on with the killer’s case?”

“Well,” Urle said.  “We’re building a case against him for attempted murder, but such things take time.  The Gohhians themselves have also begun some moves to object and interfere, but I think what will matter most is what the Gohhi ruling class want.  They’re the only ones with the clout to actually cause us issues.”  He paused.  “Though the phrase ‘RepatriateJan’ is trending among the bot puppet accounts and pretty soon we expect it will spread to living users of social media.”

“We’ll get more of a feel for it once Romon Xatier arrives, I think,” Brooks said.  “But I believe that is all for your specific tasks.  Let’s get on with it.”

“And you, Captain?” Zeela asked.  “Not to pry, but you’re not one to sit idle while others work, so I know you’re up to something.”

Brooks smiled thinly.  “I’ve got a lot of fallout to clean up . . . and unfortunately a party to go to tomorrow.”

---

“Zeela, wait up,” Urle said, jogging up to the woman.

Brooks had kept him a few moments longer, but now he did need to speak with her, and in-person was best.

“Do you have a docket of your interviewees?  Anyone pre-flagged?”

Zeela smiled at him, but arched an eyebrow.  “Eager, Commander?”

“Well . . .  the Captain hasn’t exactly assigned me a lot of tasks here,” he admitted.  He’d brought it up, but Ian had brushed it off.

And he wasn’t sure why.  Or rather, he did not want to think that Ian was treating him carefully.

“Hm, well our preliminary checks don’t make anyone stand out,” Zeela said.

“Share your feed, maybe there’s something else I can help with.”

Zeela clicked her tongue.  “Volunteering?  You keep this up you may end up under my command.”

“I’d rather do that than be bored,” he laughed.

“Be careful what you wish for . . .”

Her docket came up and Urle paused.

“Dark!” he spit out.  “You have 27 messages unread, Zeela?”

“Oh, those are just from during the meeting,” she said.  “When you’re administrator, you get it all hours of the day.  Don’t worry, my secretary team are already going through them.”

“All right . . .”

Urle’s eyes scanned down the list.  Most of the items were administration – but there were still quite a few that weren’t.

He saw one from Cenz, asking about some equipment she’d said she’d get for him.

‘As I know you have a pleasant working relationship with Commander Sulp and I do not . . .’

The next one was from Commander Eboh, asking for a few extra hands for the comms checks.  Even as he looked, Zeela zipped that one away.

“I’ve got some spare hands headed his way,” she said.  “Civvies who are interested in that sort of thing.  They love it.”

Urle continued to scan down.  There were also messages from Cutter, Kai, Sulp, and Zhu . . . along with another from Brooks.

“You really have your hands full,” he said.

“It’s a pretty normal load,” she said.  “But here’s a few requests that you can help me with.  At least, if you think Cutter would appreciate your help.”

“I think he would.  But a lot of this isn’t even in your brief,” he noted.

He’d always known that being Chief of Administration was a busy position, but technically all it was was being the head of civilian affairs.

“I know I don’t talk about it much, Zach,” she said.  “But this is the reality of the job – I look at the Craton holistically and see where I can help.  Because if any part is slacking the whole will suffer.”

Urle let out an appreciative whistle.  “You’re basically doing my job alongside me.”

“Yep.”

“You could probably be Executive Commander,” he noted wryly.

She smiled.  “I’m happy where I am.  As it is, I’m never gonna have to command the ship in combat – and I definitely prefer it that way.”

Urle accessed the list of who was ahead of her on that chain of command, and she was indeed last – civilian administration was frequently chaired by a civilian, so it made sense.

“Well, I guess things would have to go pretty damn wrong for that to happen,” he said.  Taking the tasks she had sent him, he stopped.

“Thanks, Zeela.”

“Anytime, ExCom,” she called back, walking on.  “Anytime I can pass work on to someone else I’m a happy gal.”

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