Switched

Switched-Chapter 4

Chapter 4 

 When Marcus entered the Conference Room, Klegznef did not rise from his seat at the large oval table. Although strict military procedure was not adhered to on a research vessel, the simple courtesy of rising upon the entrance of a superior officer was usually accorded. 

Ignoring the breach of protocol, Marcus pulled out a chair and sat down. He forced himself to appear relaxed, his hands loosely folded on the table. 

Hawkish in appearance and personality, Klegznef was better suited to a battle cruiser. If the Praetorians escalated their random outbursts, Klegznef would get his desire, the command of just such a ship. 

At the end of the Great War, vessels of destruction were converted into peacetime use. A beating of swords into plowshares, if he recalled the Terran symbolism correctly. Despite the peace that had reigned for nearly half Jessica's age, unrest stirred throughout the Alliance. On Serenia, as well as other planets, dissidents used the recent raids by the renegades to inflame the already worried inhabitants. The media called for the recommission of starships to prepare for a war that Marcus hoped could be avoided. 

Officers like Klegznef would rejoice at the opportunity to engage in battle. 

Klegznef was a native of Zorf, a planet whose barren plains and rugged mountains bred a warrior people. The Zorfan rulers recently entered the Alliance only because of the necessity of free trade which raised the inhabitants above a spartan level of existence. The strictures of peace rankled them. 

Klegznef stared at Marcus. "The renegades have become bolder." 

He nodded, knowing his First Officer would make his point eventually. 

"You did not fire on that vessel." 

That was quicker than Marcus expected. "No." He would not rise to the temptation to explain. Klegznef knew why they did not fire upon the ship. The Freedom was a research vessel even though it carried munitions. Attacking a renegade ship could very well plunge the Alliance into war. 

Klegznef's gray complexion darkened. "Their actions were hostile." 

"Yes." 

"You should not have run." 

"We did not run. We evaded." 

"That was cowardly." 

Marcus compressed his lips. "I am commander of this ship. And you are out of order." He pushed back his chair but did not rise. "Was there more you wished to discuss?" 

"I have spoken to General Porcazier." 

Marcus raised his eyebrow at the mention of his superior officer, the Commander of Alliance Space Fleet. 

"I apprised the General of the situation with the Praetorian vessel." Klegznef watched to see if his words would get a reaction. Marcus did not give him one. "She was not pleased that you transported a Terran aboard." 

The word 'tattle-tale' came to mind. Marcus allowed a small grin to curve his lips. American slang had its use. He stifled the smile. "You are dismissed, Mr. Klegznef." 

"Sir-" 

"I said dismissed." And don't let the door hit you on your way out. 

Yes, American colloquialisms definitely had their use. He eyed Klegznef who stood but did not leave. Would he challenge Marcus's authority? 

Fortunately for the Zorfan, he did not. He slammed his fists on the table before storming out of the room. Klegznef might have his own agenda, but he was still a product of a military environment. He would no more defy authority than Marcus would.