Maintenance and Manicures (2022 Weekly 236)

Serpentis Secunda Cluster
The New Aurora Resort
Cpt. Hannah Harkon
UNSC Richelieu
 
Quad-cannons fitted on the brutalist turrets of UNSC Richelieu moved slowly to the side. The barges proceeded with caution yet their metalic prongs remained steady. Each tendril from the prongs connected with the turrets, plugging right into the necessary compartments of the weapon modules. In laymans term, they were simply conducting standard maintanence on the Marathon Cruiser.
 
Just across the Marathon – currently swarmed by barges and cranes – was a needle nearly the length of the Marathon’s height. Inside the metallic structure housed the many rooms and facilities of the New Aurora Resort. In peaceful times this would have been filled with more aristocrats than you could count. Right now, only one person up on the needle could fit that term – aristocrat. And she was busy trying not to busy.
 
Captain Hannah Harkon, standing just over the edge of the officer’s lounge, smirked at the display.
 
“The Ol’ lady is getting her own manicure, General Anthon. I definitely want one now.”
 
“Pardon, ma’am?” Replied the fifty something grizzled Martian. 
 
If Captain Harkon was known for her near-elvish features, then Anthon Gerasimov was an ancient dwarf. Scars from counter batteries littered the man’s face – one could joke that it was a battlefield of its own. His wrinkled hands carried with it tactical data pads on the recent briefings given to them by HIGHCOM. Oh how she wished the man would lighten up! Martians were all work and no fun.
 
Hannah kept these ugly thoughts to herself. Masking it with a pleading smile, she spoke.
 
“My ship is getting well deserved maintenance, Anthon. And like her, I desire my own. Free time and relaxation was what ‘those above us’ had ordered anyhow.”
 
Gerasimov frowned. Hannah could tell as much given how little the man relaxed. Martians were quite the stoic and the older they became the more impassioned with the trivialities of small-talk.
 
“High Command may have wanted that, but I don’t. We may have escaped the Covenant’s vice-grip but now we have some Insurrectionists to worry about in the neighboring sectors.”
 
Martians were quite the rebels. Very industrious rebels. In fact, thought Hannah, were they not the first to rebel against Earth all those centuries ago. Who were they again? Koleslawvics? Koslovics? Koslovics.
 
“The Insurrectionists? Come now, General, they’re not our problem. Naval Intelligence had already prepared the necessary ‘policies’ to handle them. We needn’t worry.”
 
“I disagree.” Blunt like a Koslovic.
 
“You’re awfully untrusting of ONI. I’d watch your tone - better yet your back, hah. I’m joking. Honest. But really-”
 
She sat down near the pantry, pulling out some good spirits to lighten her mood, and spoke once more. The man simply watched her do it all, less in trance but more like an animal waiting for the right moment to maul her. Bearish Martians.
 
“Naval Intelligence is anything but lenient to traitors, General.”
 
“They’re also known to leave no alleyway for redemption for those still with common sense.” Replied Gerasimov, placing his data pad on the table just enough for Captain Hannah to get a glimpse of the contents. “But I know these people, they’re Martian-borne – old Koslovics. I can convince them to work with us. Especially with the impending arrival of the Covenant into their home – Koslovigrad.”
 
Okay… not only was he a Bearish Martian, he was a Koslovic too!
 
Just her luck.
 
Now she definitely needed some relaxation.
 
“General, this is out of our jurisdiction.”
 
“Not at all.”
 
“Huh?”
 
“It’s out of your jurisdiction, Captain Hannah Harkon, but this is my sector. My responsibility. My own battlefront.” Deceptively frail looking hands brought out another tac-pad – darker and sleek unlike the old one. Information popped out in holo and the Hannah’s face grew pale the longer she read. She wasn’t just chatting with a general. She was conversing with the head of the entire Serpentis Secunda Cluster! 
 
“Anthon, I feel betrayed. Here I thought we had a connection, you and I. The majestic captain and her army general sidekick!”
 
“That’s delusiona-”
 
“When were you going to tell me that you were the Governor General of  Serpentis Secunda!?”
 
Now it made more sense. Why an Army bloke of all people had access to the Needle Suite. Of course the Butcher of Bastogne had gotten a promotion of all things dedicated to the evacuation of civilians as well as the command of integrated UNSC-CMA-Militia battlegroups in the entire system cluster!
 
“Do you not read my reports?”
 
Reports. Reports… those several long pages of reports.
 
Gerasimov’s face remained stoic. Hannah resisted a pout.
 
“I have my AI, Hail, digest the information to me. Must have slipped his mind.”
 
“Hmm, we can have your AI defragged later.” The man stood up, facing the door – the elevator leading to rock bottom where the rest of the rabble were.
 
“Where are you going?”
 
“Gathering some specialists for the battlegroup, Captain. Enjoy your free time today. Get that, uh, manicure you wanted. Tomorrow, we are headed Koslovigrad.”
 
Frail hands were gone. Instead what Hannah saw were firm scarred digits picking up the data pads the general – governor general had left on her table. The spirit she had prepared for herself still filled to the brim. Anthon Gerasimov left the room.
 
Alone in her thoughts, Hannah processed this newfound information. She looked to her drink, urging her to take a sip. She looked outside. The Richelieu was still undergoing maintenance. Back to her drink, still urging her. Down to her hand.
 
“Richelieu my beloved, I’m sorry, but the manicures come first before the war!”
Category:The Weekly