Private One Paw for the Ship, One Paw for Yourself

[Tanya Keltoi]

One blessing, amongst the many that years at sea had provided for Tanya, was freedom from the incessant ticking of a clock in her office unlike the one waiting for her back in port.

It was not so much that she ever despised clocks themselves – not at all, for the recent decades had ushered in a newfound fascination with watchwork and horology, with considerable hours invested in tinkering and building pocket watches of her own. The work had been therapeutic if anything in the difficult transition to civilian life in Kutoroka. However, those were projects under her control and during hobby hours: the predictable, unstoppable, quiet tick tock whilst she was reading or writing ranges from a mildly distracting annoyance to utterly maddening depending on her mood on any given day. During her tenure as Minister of War at least three rather expensive clocks had found themselves shattered, burned, or otherwise disassembled until the staff reached agreement to move the timepieces out into the hallway and offer her an hourglass such as the one on deck ready to mark the shift patterns. The quiet, steady hiss of sand had been far more familiar and soothing.

Such a sound would have been just as welcome as she sat in the Admiral’s day room, poring over old muster books from the BlackShip’s previous tenure before Jeshal had taken the helm and making a couple of notes. The ship was large – one of the largest she had worked on in her career – and in a crew of hundreds it was easy enough to lose track of individuals. That was often where trouble began.

That was part of the reason for the summons she had given one young weasel half an hour prior via the surly-faced but reliable Oilfur. One face she had seen about on deck during the voyage was their new assistant Quartermaster, and from the sidelong glances she’d taken the fox could not quite distinguish if he was shocked, outraged or simply miserable with his life choices. The afternoon had been set aside for meetings, and she’d seen fit to schedule Herman in as one of them.

Oilfur tapped on her door by means of introducing the weasel when he chose to arrive and Tanya nodded affably, gesturing to one of the chairs. “Thanky’, Oilfur. Dismissed. Master Lasichin, have a seat.” She closed the muster books, glad to give her eyes a rest from the rows upon rows of names, occupations and movements of crew. “I recall you were one of the party they sent out not so long ago to fetch the castaways, and I take it from the papers that bein’ aboard a ship isn’t something you’re all too accustomed to, either. Would I be right in sayin’ that this is your first posting aboard a vessel?”


[Set after Mettle: A Very Sandy Giftsgiving. @Herman Lasichin ]

 

[Herman Lasichin]

Herman thought he would be used to his new life by now. It got better for sure, he enjoyed the banter and little arguments he and Griblo had on various subjects, he found discussions with Cryle informative, engaging and pleasantly bewildering, he had found spare time to develop his half formed ideas back during his student days, and he had gotten close to many beasts on the ship. It certainly made the numbers and crates he had to stare at all day feel a little bit more like his home rather than an enemy that refused to retreat. But there was still that strange feeling gnawing at his thoughts. It sounded wrong, it ran contrary to what he thought was the reason he came here. He might have been physically born in Raven's hill, but he was a kit of the Vulpine Imperium. Both sides of his family had many links to the navy, from deckswabs and powder kits to a couple of helmsbeasts and even a captain's mate. But whatever he hoped to find on this ship, he was still looking for it. Could the life at sea really have not been for him?

And then there was the trouble of the resources, as he came to refer to it in his notes. The castaways were gracious enough to bring along many things the ship needed, which pushed the worst of the troubles a few weeks back, maybe a month if they were careful. Maybe they were lucky and came upon more abandoned crates on deserted islands. Herman preferred to be ready for the worse alternative. He was actually drafting a presentation of the dire situation, he was still unsure who he was going to present it to exactly, when he heard that the admiral wanted to meet him. He didn't know what to think about it, or if he should ask Griblo or somebeast else about it. He never heard of anyone else getting summoned, but he didn't hear many things either. Herman knew very little about the vixen herself, he could see her bringing goodd and bad news alike. To put it all in one sentence: Herman was unprepared. He carried his notebook and pen under his arm as if they were an extension of his being, and he sat down in the chair as if Admiral Keltoi pulled on invisible strings tying his limbs, and then answered her question. He barely realized that he gave no verbal greeting, just a bow of his upper body and a nod to acknowledge her command.

"Yes, this is my first job on a ship."

He paused, struggling to think what he ought to add.

"I am slowly getting accustomed to it, slowly but surely."

he was composed, he was picking his words carefully and carefully pronouncing each word to make sure the admiral could only hear the standard Bully Harbor Vulpinsulan accent. That only made him stand out more on a ship where every beast seemed to be speaking a dialect of their own.

 

[Tanya Keltoi]

When last she’d taken office there had been all sorts sitting across the desk from her: those with a rigid sense of rank and order, keen to show due deference to the chain of command; those who paid a grudging respect out of fear of repercussions otherwise; those who paid little heed out of camaraderie or sheer defiance. That Herman did not think to introduce himself did not much bother Tanya, though it was noted. So, too, was the deliberate manner in which he spoke. It was a world away from the attitude she’d adopted when aboard her earliest vessels. Instead she had opted for aggressive armour, cloaking herself in spite and rage, puffing herself up with lies in the hopes that her elders (for she was but a teen) and superiors would take her in. It had backfired more than once.

For a few moments Tanya allowed the silence to settle as she stared levelly back at Herman. It seemed as though she was following a thread of thought, keen to pursue, but it was discarded just as swiftly. Instead she leaned back, reaching beneath the table to produce a bottle and two glasses after a quick rummage. “Here,” she set the glasses on the table and filled both with a generous glug of rum, giving the younger weasel a slow blink as she pushed one towards him. “I don’ share often, so drink up. Now then, you don’t need to stand on ceremony with me – today at least. You were part of the shore group an’ I’m curious how your first went, from your perspective leastways. How’ve you been enjoying the work?”

 

[Herman Lasichin]

Herman took everything he thought he knew about the admiral, admirals, indeed anything about talking to beasts running a ship and who were superior to his superiors, and threw it all overboard when he saw Tanya pull out two glasses and a bottle of rum. He was only going to hopelessly confuse himself if he tried to interpret this meeting as if it were a conventional summons. The most he could do is go along, tell the truth, be a good beast. That never went wrong. Well, not never, Herman Lasichin wasn't that naive. But reading about the terrible fates that befell good honest beasts wasn't enough to bring down that family spirit. To say what's true and do what's right. To step closer when you can be of help and step away when you are a bother. To leave a place better than when you entered it and to make the life of every other beast better, because you will inevitably share fate with them all.

Herman brought the glass up and took a swig from it. There was a split second where he remembered his long broken promise to never drink again after that fight at the bar, but it quickly faded.

"Thank you, admiral. Yes, I was part of that shore party, and since I came back with all my fur in tact, my hind paws a little wet and me a little smarter, I couldn't be happier about it."

He took another swig.

"The work is hard, but all good work is hard. Long nights of counting, adding, comparing, about as exciting as the reports."

Herman smiled a little. These were his first few steps on a brand new piece of land. He didn't know what awaited him, so he had to go step by step, making sure he was always on firm solid ground.