Doctor Cochran, please report to Doctor Vannacuts office immediately the voice rang out across the corridors of Atka Research Station.
Cochran sighed and drew his glasses away from his face, rubbing his temple with his other hand. Since the arrival of his new manager hed had little sleep and been rushed from one project to the next. He was no youth, creeping into his early seventies, Cochran was well past his prime and he knew it but duty to Cryer kept him working. He may not have liked Vannacut, in fact he considered him a borderline sociopath, but he towed the line as he always had and knuckled down under the slime-balls leash.
He stood up, almost toppling over as a head rush overcame him and pressed the com-switch on the wall of his cramped office/quarters Ill be there immediately.
Thank you sir, Ill let the Dr. Vannacut know the woman on the other end replied and the com went dead.
Cochran realised, her voice was new, another secretary. That had to be a record for anyone; Vannacut had gone through five in the last two months alone. Surely someone in human resources had noticed the turnover? Vannacut's ties to R&D head Betchell (who Cochran thought was equally strange for a learned man) must be the reason he remained in an office of high standing and not languishing in a cell for the criminally deranged.
The door to Vannacuts office was open; the slim, arrogant looking, recently promoted (he seemed to like mentioning it as often as possible to his new staff) Research Coordinator was sat at his desk looking earnestly at an open personnel file. It took him another minute to acknowledge that Cochran was stood at the door.
Ah, Doctor. How are you? Vannacut asked, sweeping his hand out to gesture towards the couch to the side of his room.
Tired sir, the current project Cochran replied, he was too old to play games of nicety with Vannacut and preferred honesty but as usual, Vannacut had cut him off mid flow, not really listening but this had become standard protocol to Cochran where this worm was involved.
Good, good. Please sit down will you?", Cochran realised he was pacing slightly, staring at the wall of books that adorned one side of the office "A drink? What can Rachel isnt it?... get you? Vannacut raised his voice and directed the question at his latest secretary. The young redheaded girl nodded and hurried in to take the order.
Nothing, no Im Cochran muttered but was cut off by Vannacut once more I recommend the Bretonnian Brandy. You must have got a taste for it in your previous career, no?
Cochran shrugged; it wasnt worth contradicting this disturbing little man with an obvious god complex. The young girl nodded and hurried off to get two glasses of brandy from a cabinet in the office. Cochran watched her with detached interest, she was nervous of something, that much was obvious shed probably already heard the rumours circulating about Vannacuts last vict
So Doctor, you are aware of our recent trouble regarding the supply vessel Roxanol? Vannacut chimed up, breaking Cochrans train of thought.
Sorry yes, yes I am. I conducted the Captains medical and psychological evaluation myself. Besides a slightly elevated
Yes. Yes, Im aware of your report Vannacut once more cut in Suffice to say the man was deemed no longer fit to work for us and has been well retired from service Vannacut stood and went and looked out of the small view port, the debris field outside swirling slowly.
Sir, with respect whats this got to do with
You? Vannacut pre-empted the end of the sentence with a slight hiss to his voice Well as Roxanol requires a senior member of staff on board and also a ships medical officer, I believe it would be beneficial to both of us if you took on that role. Congratulations Captain Vannacut turned, sweeping the recently placed brandy off his desk and downed it in one.
But.. Cochran began but realised it was no use; Vannacut had shown his true colours once more. He knew Cochran had tried to transfer out from under his command and hed skilfully manipulated the attempt to his own ends. Cochran may be annoyingly polite and humanitarian but he was also undyingly loyal to Cryers cause (not to mention his Hypocratic Oath) and Vannacut suspected that as captain of Roxanol, still under his rule but away from the managements ears, Cochran would still be of some use to his plans.
Well done. Gather your belongings and report to your new crew tomorrow. That will be all Doctor Vannacuts faecal eating smile breaking across his face as he held out a spidery thin hand to Cochran, who grudgingly shook it with as little gusto as possible.
As Cochran left, he glanced back over his shoulder as Vannacut smiled once more and shut the door to his office, the secretary still inside and with a look of dawning terror crossing her innocent looking face.
Was he powerless to do anything against this... monster yes, he probably was at the moment. That was when it dawned on him - he remembered seeing someone that looked vaguely similar the evening before in one of the dissection pods (at Cochran's age his memory for faces wasn't good), but it finally shone in his mind like a beacon - the poor soul in the pod, limbs missing, chest splayed open, displaying the torso's contents and face half hacked up was Roxanols former Captain. Yes, Cochran thought, he was powerless to act against this monster whilst Vannacut remained in the good graces of the management.
The screaming grew louder, the smoke was smothering and the heat from the fires was blistering. It was all too visceral, all too real.
Cochran sat bolt upright in his bunk, his memories as a medic in the Bretonnian Armed Forces still invading his sleep - especially since Vannacut had become his new boss. Vannacut had served also, but being of dual-citizenship had used his get out clause as a Libertonian to flee service. Of course, Cochran had served for over a decade before that whelp had shown up and made a name for himself as an expert combat surgeon before swiftly throwing away that respect within a month of serving.
He'd thought retirement from the BAF would have calmed his nerves and allowed him respite to heal his mental as well as physical scars but the offer to join Cryer was too tempting - to save more lives - it was what drove him on and damn to those who'd laugh at his foolishness. A man in his seventies with a cushy pension and a honourable discharge with distinctions was set for life but no, not a quiet life of gardening was good enough for Cochran and not a day went by when that bitterness didn't hammer in his head.
It was a literal battle of the angel and demon on his shoulders for the old mans soul and sanity. Selfishly retire and ignore the suffering in Sirius or drive himself to death earlier than would be serving others. He'd chose the latter, but that old demon still remained, taunting his decision and making him doubt himself.
At least the quarters onboard Roxanol had improved, the old Train had been scrapped when Vannacut in his glorious wisdom had petitioned that any craft that was under him ferrying live cargo should have more opulent surroundings and so with the Train scrapped the ship registration had fallen on a newly commisioned OSC Luxury Liner. This didn't bother Cochran as much, the bed was more comfortable and he had his own bathroom now and those damn leather seats on the bridge weren't half as scratchy as the ones on board the old ship. Still, it showed Cryer's new direction - they held the power in Sirius as far as anything medical was concerned and a fleet of Luxury Liners ferrying cargo certainly displayed this.
Vannacut's most recent edict was farcical to say the least. Cochran was to finish running cargo loads for the Research Coordinator and head out to the outer worlds and collect data on the inhabitants and worlds there - he had an inkling it had something to do with the intelligent primates rumoured to exist out there - he'd overhead Vannacut rambling to R&D Head Betchell something about trained monkey butlers in a half joking tone. In addition, Vannacut wanted some 'rare' alien specimens to work on - all in the name of science no doubt but it wasn't his backside on the line, it was Cochran's yet again.
Still, this posting had its advantages, Cochran had purposefully been especially kind to several pirates and 'poor folk' on his journeys since taking command and he knew his reports on this irked Vannacut if no one else. The thought of a high and mighty Cryer vessel pandering to the demands of a commoner! It amused him greatly to think of managements faces if they ever read the ships logs.
Cochran stood on the bridge "We are to drop the refugees from Bretonnia at the Freeport in Theta apparently crew. Then proceed via Omicron-74 to the outer worlds. Any hostile alien contacts are to be engaged and their wreckage is to be brought onboard for transport to Atka" he read off the data slip.
"Yes sir!" the crew chimed, almost in unison, they seemed to like him, there was no hesitation in their movements at such a dangerous mission - maybe it was the fear that death out there was preferable to failure and facing Vannacut's wrath later. Who knew.
Roxanol's engines powered up and the trip into unknown waters began.