Farborn, page 3
part #2 of Maxim Colony Series
I reach over to the panel and answer the call.
“Olarte.”
“Oh, thank the Quazi’i you’re back! This is La’loorn. We have a problem during today’s afternoon shift!”
One thing I have learned in my time working on this space station is that creatures of various intelligent species share certain mannerisms which transcend language and physiological differences.
Closing one’s eyes and sighing is usually a sign of resignation. I know I am doing it right now as my second-in-command prepares to detail a crisis that I am already reasonably sure is not one.
Especially since it is likely one of his own creation.
This is far from the first time a similar situation has occurred. I am truly beginning to believe the Shalfin is manufacturing or embellishing the severity of critical situations just to have me come on duty sooner and to relieve him of having to make command decisions.
This is also something I will remember when it is time to perform La’loorn’s performance review.
In fact, at that time, I will likely be demoting him and promoting Fullstein, one of the Onyx. Fullstein has been doing exemplary work and deserves the chance to succeed and advance his career. But when I was promoted two years ago, I inherited an older crew from my previous supervisor, who retired. Since then, three more reached retirement age, requiring me to fill those positions.
This Shalfin is one of those. Except he transferred in from another sector, and his accumulated time working in the berthing department put him automatically in line to be my second-in-command when the vacancies and his transfer occurred.
I interrupt La’loorn’s rambling. “I have just returned from Pfahrn and have barely settled my body. Is this really something you are unable to deal with on your own?”
La’loorn hesitates. I have never approached an issue with him in this manner before. Except today, I am tired, and perhaps feeling a little lonely and heartsick as well.
“Well, protocol dictates I defer to my superior. That is you.”
I do not care for his attitude, or his sarcasm. “If I appear there shortly, perhaps you will wish I had not. I will ask you once more if this is truly a situation warranting my personal attention at this time.”
“Y-yes. It is.”
I close my eyes and rub my forehead. “I shall come, deal with this, and then leave. I am not clocking in for a shift at this time, and you will not cut your shift short, either. I still have two days of leave remaining. You and I will be discussing this next week, however. I am not pleased that this has happened again.”
I punch the disconnect button before La’loorn can reply.
That action is rude in nearly any culture, I know, but now I perhaps understand more clearly why a supposedly experienced worker was so readily offered to me for one of my crew.
The Shalfin is, as some humans would say, a major pain in my green ass.
* * * *
All I really wish to do is go to sleep, not traverse the space station’s corridors and haul myself to the other end of the facility.
As a restricted personnel lift whisks me from the large central hub level up toward the mining berths, I lean against the wall, the metal feeling pleasantly cool against my bare shoulders. I rarely wear tunics when I am off-duty, unless I am cold. I prefer defaulting to wearing only my brahkhen when not on duty, as many Pfahrn do. This one is fashioned from the same grey material our sector’s uniforms are made of. I have heard humans refer to them as “kilts,” because apparently it is similar to one of their traditional garments.
I defaulted to keeping only one “civvie” brahkhen in my belongings here on the space station, to help conserve precious space. Therefore, I am usually wearing a uniform brahkhen, even when off-duty. When I am officially on duty, I also wear a light uniform tunic that carries several patches which quickly identify me and my sector and department. Right now I am bare-chested and have my ID badge hanging on a lanyard around my neck.
I expect this confrontation will not be pleasant for any of the parties involved.
Most especially not for La’loorn.
The farther I travel and the closer I draw to my destination, the angrier I feel.
Anger is not an emotion I often experience, but there it simmers, right below the surface of my mind.
Anger, and resentment. The only times I can remember feeling truly angry in recent years have occurred over the past several months, and are usually directly due to La’loorn’s actions.
Perhaps I have allowed La’loorn’s behavior to continue for too long. It is not something I am very experienced with personally. I have no issues like this with the Pfahrn who work for me, or the other non-Pfahrn. As a culture, Pfahrn loathe these kinds of silly interpersonal machinations.
I will also look into transferring La’loorn to another post, or to another sector’s crew, if not terminating him outright. I do not wish for my team’s morale to suffer over one member. Suffer it will, if this behavior is left unchecked.
One of the unfortunate things about working for Maxim Colonies is that they do not have a contract system in place such as we use on Pfahrn, and which prevents time-wasting situations such as the one I now am dealing with. But they pay my salary, the work is agreeable—normally—so I must comply with their company regulations.
That means I cannot simply terminate La’loorn for failure to perform his duties in a satisfactory manner. I must “coach” him first. If I do not follow the proper personnel protocols, he can file a grievance and petition for a review by my supervisor.
When that lift terminates below the berthing level, I make the walk through that level to the dedicated and secure berthing personnel service lift. After I swipe my ID and key the biometric lock, the door opens and I step inside. It will take me to the level where the control room for our berthing sector is located. I could also access it via the public lift system, but that means going through Customs, and it will take longer.
As I enter the control room, that is where I find La’loorn literally wringing his hands over one of the master control panels for our berthing sector. I believe that is another reason I am frequently put off by his behavior. He is frequently given to bouts of melodrama.
It is as if he has never met a Pfahrn before, if he believes that is a successful manipulation tactic to use upon me.
“Explain yourself,” I immediately demand upon striding into the control room.
As he begins to ramble about a personnel shortage for that afternoon’s shift, I only let him get midway through his story before I cut him off.
“You created the schedule this week, did you not?”
“Yes, but—”
“And our personnel needs have not changed since that schedule was created, have they?”
“No, but—”
“Was there an emergency created by a serious injury or illness, or an unscheduled ship arrival?”
“No, but—”
“Then why would you deliberately create a shortage of personnel in the afternoon shift when you know you will not have enough coverage with an X-Kaffer class cargo freighter scheduled for tractor? Our staffing guidelines clearly state we require a minimum of five engineer technicians dedicated to the berthing of that vessel. Their arrival has been on our schedule for over a week, because they are meeting with the comms retrofit team, who asked we notify them as soon as they are berthed.”
“Because Bakely said that his son’s girlfriend was coming for a visit, and—”
I hold up my hand, silencing him. “Bakely was on the work schedule for today. You gave him leave when he was scheduled to work without requiring him to provide coverage for his shift first?”
“Well, I thought it was—”
I hold up my hand again. “Stop. Now.” I lean in, press my hand to the biometric lock on the control console, and pull up the daily roster. “Why is Bob not here?”
“Bob” is the short name for another Shalfin who is on my team, but as they frequently do, he has taken a Standard name because his Shalfin name is far too long and complex for the average Standard-speaker to pronounce.
“He said he wasn’t feeling well this morning, and—”
“Where is his medical clearance form? If he is ill enough to miss his shift, then he is ill enough he must go to medical and submit a form. Why is it not here? And why did you not call in a replacement for his shift when that occurred?”
I look at La’loorn and spot blue high in his cheeks. I know from research I have undertaken that it is commonly a physiological sign indicating emotional discomfort, if not outright lying, in a Shalfin.
“I-I t-told him it was okay for him to—”
“Stop.” I straighten. “Call Bob and Bakely and get them in here. Now.”
“But Bakely will be upset with me! And so will Bob!”
“If I call Bakely in, he will be even more upset with you by the time I am finished with him.” I log out of my connection. “There are your two missing personnel.” I head for the door. “Problem solved. I will expect you in my office promptly at 0800 in three days, upon my first day returned from leave, for an immediate disciplinary discussion.”
“What?”
I stop at the doorway and turn. “You have made a habit of creating completely preventable issues when I am due to return from leave, and it will not happen again. I verbally warned you the last time. This time, you will be written up for it and demoted.”
His mouth gapes. “You can’t do that!”
“If you do not like what I am going to do, then you should have considered the full ramifications of your actions before behaving so recklessly with company time and personnel. An X-Kaffer is the largest vessel we deal with, and you cannot short personnel for berthing.”
I am…beyond angry. His actions reflect poorly on me, and on others in my crew, and I cannot tolerate that.
Anger is not an emotion I am used to feeling, and I do not like it when it grips my system.
I walk out of the control room and down the docking arm where the mining vessel Palmarian Rubayne, a gigantic cargo freighter, will be berthed upon its arrival.
I find Fullstein on duty, diligently manning the tractor control panel of the beam that is currently drawing the large vessel toward us. There is a control tower at the end of the station, which oversees and directs all berthing and departure activity, and manages the tugs that help guide the vessels in once they are closer.
“This is to inform you that, as of when I come back on duty in three days, you will be promoted to second-in-command for our crew. Please study the personnel handbook in the interim and be sure to notify me what additional training you shall require for your new duties.”
He looks up at me, his bushy grey eyebrows arching in apparent surprise. “What about La’loorn?”
I quickly detail what has happened, and he snorts in anger. “I knew that was a story he was giving me earlier.”
“What do you mean?”
“He told me you approved us being short-handed, and then I threatened to contact you myself if it wasn’t resolved immediately.”
“He did, did he?”
“Yes.”
“Interesting.” Inside, my anger blossoms anew.
“If you play back the control room logs, the conversation should be there. This happened within minutes of me coming on shift two hours ago.”
“Thank you.” I return to the control room and La’loorn wheels around at my entrance, the blue now even deeper on his cheeks. He stands at the master console.
“Move,” I order.
“Wh-what are you doing back here?”
“Trying to control my temper.” I activate the biometric lock again and pull up the logs, playing them out loud and not through a headset.
The Shalfin’s face is a shade of deep blue by the time I hit the button to end the playback.
I stare at him, not speaking.
He finally breaks first. “I just want them to like me!”
“Your job is not about being liked. Your job is about berthing vessels. If you are incapable of performing those duties, then I suggest you find another line of work before you are terminated from this one.”
“But you can’t fire me!”
“I believe you are incorrect on that point. Especially after you have just falsified a statement to me, and I have it on record.”
“Please don’t fire me! I need this job! If I get terminated, I won’t be able to find another job on the station, and I don’t have enough money to move!”
I reach over to the intercom and page Fullstein at his console.
“Yes, Olarte?”
“You are officially promoted as of right now. I am sending La’loorn down to relieve you. Please report to the control office immediately.”
“Right away.”
I end the connection. “As of this moment, consider yourself on notice of pending disciplinary action. We will still be having our meeting when I return from leave. Go relieve him. Now.”
The Shalfin scrambles to comply.
I walk to my terminal, unlock my UI, and type in notes, as well as flag all of these conversations for preservation in the record.
This is completely unacceptable behavior on La’loorn’s part, but at least I now have enough that I can terminate him if I so choose. I will give him one more chance, however, because it means less aggravation for myself in the long run.
When Fullstein arrives minutes later, I quickly fill him in, as well as play the conversation I just had with La’loorn for him. “I trust you can call in Bob and Bakely and order them to report for duty? Or do I need to do it?”
The Onyx nods. “Absolutely, I will do it.”
“Excellent.” I make the personnel notations, remove La’loorn’s management permissions, and install Fullstein’s before locking my terminal again. “I am going to resume the rest of my leave. Please prepare a full status report before my return in three days. If La’loorn gives you additional trouble, or if Bob or Bakely refuse to obey you, contact me immediately. I will help you create the next work period schedule the morning of my return, following my disciplinary review with La’loorn. I will also expect you to attend that meeting, so please make sure we have complete personnel coverage during that time. Starting at 0800, and then for at least two hours after. Adjust as necessary, including overtime for someone, if required.”
He nods again. “I will.”
“Thank you.” I leave, feeling angry and unsettled that my peace was so rudely, selfishly, and needlessly disturbed.
Unacceptable.
I would gladly promote one of my fellow Pfahrn to the role, except none of phem have the seniority or experience of Fullstein. But I also have never had any issues with the Onyx, either. Fullstein is approximately four feet shorter than me. With bushy black and grey hair that sticks out from his head, pale grey skin, and six fingers on each hand, he also possesses a prehensile tail that is a callback to the Onyx’s early ancestors in much the way that Pfahrn still possess thick, armor-like skin across our backs and shoulders.
Instead of immediately returning to my quarters, I opt to take the lift down to the level where I can access the walk around the outer rim of the widest section of the hub. We are about to pass into nightside, and there are plentiful viewports all along that scenic section of hub from which I can view Pfahrn.
I stare down at my planet. I could try to find a job down there, but the salary would be much poorer given my status, education, and work experience.
I take a deep breath and study the darkness broken by very few lights twinkling up from the dark surface. This is not the side of the planet I am from, but it is as equally beautiful as my own lands.
While I have never travelled farther from my home than this space station, in my spare time I frequently watch vids of other worlds. I know that, compared to others, Pfahrn is a much more natural planet than many. We have technology comparable to that on other worlds, but we have yet to exploit it at the expense of our planet’s health, despite a small but vocal cadre of wealthy mining rights owners who wish to exploit our natural resources. Thus, at night, you can usually look to the heavens from the surface of Pfahrn and see a spread of stars across the sky and not a glow of lights. Only in some of our largest cities can lights be spotted from my current vantage.
Our species does not reproduce very quickly, just enough to maintain our populations. We are selective about that, and due to our physiology, accidental births simply are not possible, unlike some species, like humans or Shalfin.
Not every member of our species will reproduce. In fact, at last report, less than half of our kind ever have even one offspring. My parents are the exception, but both of phem were only children, and phey have stated phey will not sire any more offspring.
Two of my siblings, Dholartin and Olartmin, the two youngest, have both said phey do not wish to have offspring. Colarmin, like myself, does not wish to have any offspring if phey are unmated. That leaves a chance we might never have any.
My parents have already told me if I want to invest in the services of a matchmaker, that I should do so, because phey wish for my happiness.
But I do not want to take that money from my family. Not right now. Perhaps if I am still alone in many years, I might decide to pursue that path.
Then I would likely be past the point of fertility being an issue for me, anyway.
After taking a few more long, deep breaths to try to regain some of my departed equilibrium, I finally continue my journey back to my apartment.
I wish that I was not already counting down the days until I can next return to Pfahrn.
Chapter Three
Davies
I was going to head aboard the space station shortly after we were securely docked, but then Captain Xhogrhan shows up on the bridge to check our status, we start talking about the comms upgrades, and…
Yeah.
Before I know it, I’ve agreed to hang out on the ship until tomorrow to talk to the techs before they begin the comms system retrofit process.
Davies McKellan, you’re too damned nice.
