The Catalyst for Revenge
Extra: Where's the Fun in That?
Human Year 2222, Turian Dreadnought Astrakhan
Admiral Walenty sat down with a heavy sigh. His feet hurt. It was only after he sat down that he noticed the blinking that indicated a new message.
He reached out, tapping his talons on the screen to bring up the message. It was from Councillor Quentius. That made Walenty sit up straighter as he looked at the screen. He'd sent a discreet missive to the Councillor a day or so ago. Maybe this was his reply. The message opened.
I was somewhat surprised at your letter. I had assumed that the rank of Admiral, being advanced within the Hierarchy, would have ensured that certain alterations would have been made to render such issues void. Given the current situation I've tailored my advice to be as practical as possible. I doubt any of us have the time or will to recover from unneeded invasive surgery at this point in time.
Walenty winced, re-reading the line. It did mean what he thought it meant. The Councillor had had something drastic done. Probably nerve control implants. While the surgeons on the Astrakhan could perform the procedure, he couldn't afford the time recovery would take. He was thankful the Councillor had taken his request seriously.
As a result, I have several suggestions. Most meetings may be conducted from a sitting position. While the Council has traditionally stood, as an Admiral, your rank is sufficient that you may present from a desk. I do however understand that this may be awkward given that Primarch Victus has chosen to stand with the Council.
The Admiral shook his head at the bad pun. The Councillor had an odd sense of humour. It was the least of his quirks and he was sure before they got out of this, they'd all be showing quirks.
Alternatively, while less diplomatic, you may feign technical difficulties. For best effect I would suggest they be intermittent, both to allow them to be hard to trace and subsequently fix, and so that you may choose which meetings to stand for.
It was a good suggestion but on a ship the size of the Astrakhan word would eventually get out. He trusted his crew, especially his immediate officers, but on something as trivial as this, it wasn't worth impressing upon everyone to keep their mouths shut. If that was the best solution, he would just have to endure.
A less palatable solution, but one that requires the assistance of fewer would be to take pain killers. I'm sure the Medics of the Astrakhan would view it prudent to lend temporary assistance to their Admiral.
The Councillor was right. Taking drugs to control the pain was a very unpalatable solution even if he knew the medics wouldn't blab. There had to be something better.
Finally, you may find it beneficial to speak to the engineering crew of the Astrakhan. I believe your ship has sufficient technical specs that it is possible to turn down the deck gravity for specific areas. One of those areas could indeed be your office.
Walenty stared. Then his eyes ran back over the letter. They went back to the last paragraph he'd read. Was it really that simple? All he had to do was turn down the gravity? Couldn't the Councillor have lead with that? Walenty's fist landed on his desk.
The jostle scrolled the letter future.
Of course, I could have given you that suggestion first but, where's the fun in that?
The Admiral growled and swiped the letter off the screen. Where's the fun in that!? This was a serious matter!
He forced himself to breath deeply. One breath. Two. Three. It was a serious matter but compared to the troubles they were facing it was trivial. He had to remember that, even when his feet ached. The Councillor had answered with practical advice that he could implement. And he would. He'd write to thank Quentius tomorrow.
Or the day after.
Probably. Maybe. He could answer the Councillor to let him know his advice had been well received.
But where was the fun in that?