Insubordination

[Bette Davis]

Lieutenant Bathala was looking for her in the galley. So Lieutenant Commander Davis went to the refresher. She sat in one of the co-ed stalls for ten minutes fully clothed and staring at the ceiling until she was sure he must have had some other duty to fulfill that would have taken him to another part of the ship.

When she cracked the stall door open, he was standing at the sinks, arms folded and facing towards her. Bette hastily closed the door again, but after a moment she reopened it and stepped out. "Hoping to catch me in the sonic shower, Ens- Lieutenant?"

She washed her hands at the sink beside him, pretending that she hadn't been avoiding him for two days.

[Cael Bathala]

“Wishful thinking?”

Cael smirked. Davis was still his superior, technically, but since he'd been handed leadership of Hellfire Squadron, he was no longer directly under her command. That made the repercussions of refusing to play along and kiss her ass far less threatening.

“If I was a paranoid man, I'd say you've been avoiding me since we transferred aboard.”

[Bette Davis]

She pulled her wavy black hair out its ponytail and pulled her fingers through it. "That's just ridiculous." Bette quickly worked her hair back into a tail, fastening it securely. "I hear the Hellfires are ingratiating themselves to the deck crew already."

There'd been an incident with one of the trainees, Vapebait, and a fuel umbilical that had become detached. She cracked a smile, and then turned to face Bathala fully. "You've obviously got something on your mind, pilot."

[Cael Bathala]

It would be a long time, if ever, before Lisa Arcturus lived down her multitude of frak-ups. She'd been a matter of days out of basic flight when she'd earned her call-sign, Vapebait, which was a far too accurate summary of her skills and her attitude. She'd been someone elses problem before, but as the newly promoted leader of Hellfire Squadron, Cael knew that he would have to do something about her sooner or later. There were matters higher on his priorities list for now, though.

“Back on Kuat, I said I wanted words with you. That still stands.”

[Bette Davis]

Bette turned slowly to face him, her face upturned to look him in the eye as she put her hands on her hips. "Well then, Lieutenant, get that burden off your chest. Permission to speak freely."

The door to the 'fresher opened and a pair of ensigns walked in. They halted, looking at the two pilots, but Bette didn't take her eyes off of Cael, almost daring him to say what was on his mind. "Find another head, ensigns." The two men hesitated, and then she locked her eyes on them, bellowing in her best 'talking to nuggets' voice, "Are you deaf?!"

The pair beat a hasty retreat, leaving Bathala and Davis alone.

[Cael Bathala]

Cael hadn't changed his stance, arms still locked over his chest in a gesture of defiance that few pilots under Bette Davis would chance. The pair she'd chased away were only just out of the door when Bathala's voice broke the silence.

“What is your problem with me?”

[Bette Davis]

"My problem? My problem is that you're just an upjumped swoop jock, Bathala. You think being in the Navy is just a step up from being in an arena. Frell, when we get leave, you sign autographs."

Bette threw her left hand up in the air, "You think the worlds are going to kiss your ass because you're a famous pilot. Well guess what - in the Imperial Navy your ass doesn't get kissed. And pilots with too much ego end up vaped, or worse, getting their squadrons vaped."

[Cael Bathala]

Cael shook his head and smiled tightly, without a hint of humor. It always came down to racing, always. He'd barely mentioned his track days since enrolling, but apparently it was the only thing everyone else wanted to talk about.

“I get credit where credit's due – which is more than I ever got from you.”

[Bette Davis]

"Oh really," she said, leaning away from him against the hand dryers. "Look, Hellfire's called that because its a proving ground. Cadets can be tested, and they either wash out like Smix, or they move on." If they survive, she thought darkly.

"Some pilots hang around for a while because they're just not good enough to go to a better squadron, but they're not bad enough to give up on. And guess what, Bathala? You're neither. I'd of loved nothing better than to graduate your ass months ago, but the propaganda machine sends the word down - Bathala can't be transferred. If he's killed in battle it would be a blow to the morale of the Empire.

"And if he washes out - well lets just say it was made clear that you were not going to wash out. Its not that you deserve to be stuck with the Hellfires, although its been fun yelling at you every day. You pick up maneuvers quickly, and you handle the stick like a pro. You're good, Cael. In another life, you'd be a Shadow."

[Cael Bathala]

“That's a bunch of nerf shit. They can't hold me back 'cause of that.”

He'd always known that there was an element of spin in the Empire taking him on, along with Trix Idalix, but the pair of them were damn good pilots. Surely, command wouldn't put their combined talent to waste just so they could stick their faces on a couple of recruitment posters...

“What, so I'm stuck baby-sitting 'cause the brass thinks I can't handle the big leagues? What's the frelling point of putting me out there at all?”

[Bette Davis]

"Sucks, doesn't it." Now Bette had her arms folded. "Look, its not that bad. You got a promotion, and you get to boss around the nuggets now. But the Ministry of Truth isn't about to let Cael Bathala get vaped in a battle against the Rebels and that's all there is to it."

She raised an eyebrow, "You might as well get used to it. Anyway, you're not my problem anymore."

[Cael Bathala]

The Ministry of frakkin' Truth. Cael shook his head. The less said about the Empire's propaganda machine, the better. It wasn't that he wanted to get vaped, but it would be better to have the chance to prove – as much to himself as to others – that he could hack it. He glanced away from Davis, smirking tight-lipped to himself.

“Not your problem... no change there then, huh.”

[Bette Davis]

"Whatever," she said. "You have your opinions, of course, but I did my job. And it wasn't my job to hold the hands of my nuggets. You'll learn. You can't afford to make friends in this business. So, if I hurt anyone's precious little feelings while teaching them to stay alive and not accidentally kill their wingmen, then I guess I'm guilty as charged."

She'd had enough of this conversation. Bette stood up straight and began to walk around Cael to get to the door.

[Cael Bathala]

Cael turned back to the wash-basins and dipped his head to get a look at his own reflection. Having spent a moment scrubbing one hand back through his hair, he glanced after Bette. His gaze wandered up and down the length of her body, lingering a little longer on her lower half.

“I guess I drifted off for a second and missed that.. teaching part.”

[Bette Davis]

She snorted, catching him in the mirror checking her out. "You either learn or you die out here. And despite all Hellfire's best efforts, no one died yet. So I'd say that means you all learned something."

Bette flipped him the bird in the mirror. "You can just kiss my ass, Bathala. I don't care what you think of me."

[Cael Bathala]

Bathala straightened up and paced after Davis. He shoved the wash-room door open and almost knocked out an ensign coming in the opposite direction. Taking a step around the dazed cadet, long strides soon carried Cael past his former commander. “Kissing your ass ain't my job anymore.”

[Bette Davis]

She glowered as he strode past her and then turned and walked the other direction down the passageway. "Kissing your ass ain't my job anymore..." Bette muttered the words to herself, giving him an unflattering inflection as she did so.

"Whatever. Whatever!" Her pace quickened as she stomped through the Admonisher, yelling over her shoulder at him, "Suits me just fine!" She stalked off, heading for the hangar where Maneater was waiting. Shouting at some technicians would make her feel a lot better.

[Cael Bathala]

The none too impressive ranks of Hellfire Squadron were waiting for Bathala in the pilots ready room, expecting their first briefing from their new leader. He arrived to discover that Gaff “Boozer” Barboy had apparently spent the day so far gushing bodily fluids out of one end then the other and Nicky “Motormouth” Raine had somehow put in a transfer request between the time they had left the Kalidor and when they come aboard the Admonisher. Cael pinched his brow. Five minutes into his role as Hellfire Leader and he was already two pilots down.

When evening rolled around, or at least what passed for evening in the darkness of space, he was ready for a drink. Flying solo, and even when flanked by Dubreas and Smix, Bathala was a pro – but leading wasn't something he was used to. From the looks on their faces and the sag of their shoulders, he guessed the rest of the Hellfire's were glad to get the go-ahead for some downtime. Unlike other squadrons, they weren't regularly called up to combat air patrol, since there was the possibility they'd do more harm than good.

There was talk of card games back at the bunks, which the rest of the squad invited him to out of an awkward sense of duty, but Cael spared them and himself the awkward silences. There was a bottle of something in the mess hall with his name on it.

[Bette Davis]

The technicians were glad to see the back of Lieutenant Commander Davis when she finally left the hangar. All the systems of her TIE Defender were checked, all minor repairs taken care of, and the navicomp was updated with all current star charts. She refueled it herself, the physical work of dragging umbilicals back and forth helping cool her off.

She harangued the deck chief about some small policy slips, and finally left, well after the mess served the evening meal. Bette walked in, went into the galley to rustle up a sandwich and a drink, and ignored the few people in the back who were washing up dishes and laughing. They did her a favor and ignored her too.

Looking inside a lower cabinet for some kiva juice concentrate, she uncovered a glass bottle with a clear liquid inside it. Bette took it out, uncorked it and gave it a sniff. The immediate clearing of her sinuses told her everything she needed to know. Kiva juice forgotten, the pilot tucked the bottle under her arm as she took her sandwich and a glass into the mess through the galley doors.

She was pouring herself a second shot when Lieutenant Bathala walked into the mess hall. Bette thought about trying to hide the bottle, but it was too late, he'd already seen her with it.

[Cael Bathala]

With a tin mug in hand, Cael spotted the bottle he was after. Trouble was, Lieutenant Commander Davis was holding the damn thing. He dragged out a chair opposite Bette and slid his cup across the table, with a screech of metal.

“Pony up.”