As part of a writing course I was recently taking, we were asked to develop scenes that showed the conflicting personalities between the main characters. In this scene, Deacon Carver, a smuggler, is being “onboarded” onto the Chaucer, an Interplanetary Union vessel. The head of security, Rikaine Westmoreland, is not happy with his presence. The acting XO, Char Osbaldistan, is an old friend of Deacon, and a reformed smuggler herself.
I would note that this scene is a draft, and may change , or even disappear, before the book itself is finally published.
Onboarding
Deacon was summoned to the XO’s office. Again, it was a very comfortable room, with large burgundy wingback chairs and a matching couch. There was a desk, but it was more ornate than needed for its function. The walls, parts not covered by status boards, were a green texture. A faint scent of forest permeated the room.
Was everything on this ship designed to weaken you, to make you soft?
“Deacon, I know you two have met before,” Char indicated a smiling Rikaine, sitting deeply in one of the comfortable wingback chairs, “but I need you to have a proper onboarding meeting with Security Chief Westmoreland.”
Deacon took the indicated opposing chair, equally plush and comfortable. He sat forward, on the thinnest edge, not giving concession to the alluring softness.
“Good to see you again, Carver.” Deacon nodded. Their first encounter hadn’t allowed much talking. This was Deacon’s first real impression of Rikaine. It wasn’t starting well. Only uptight people called others by their last name. “Going over your biographical detail. You have no family?”
Deacon shook his head.
“Pity, family is a source of strength.”
“Or holds you back.” Deacon’s dissent made Rikaine glance towards Char, who sat motionless.
“The captain,” Rikaine said, invoking an authority higher than anyone in the room, “Has empowered me to generate and enforce the rules that all aboard this ship abide by.”
Rikaine handed Deacon an infopad. “Study this. You’ll be expected to live within it while onboard.”
“That’s a lot of rules.” Deacon gave a cursory scroll through the list. “I see a lot of ‘must’ and ‘must not.’ I don’t see any ‘if this, then that.’”
“The captain believes in conformity, not individualism, as do I. Had you grown up in a family, you might have learned the value of rules and boundaries.”
It was Deacon’s turn to look to Char for guidance. She was keeping a stone face, trying not to influence this encounter at all. Why? Does she agree with the captain’s rules and their enforcer, or is she hiding discontent?
“Do you know the difference between rules and morality?” Deacon asked Rikaine but kept Char in his peripheral vision, wondering if she’d kill this line of questioning. She leaned in. He took that as approval.
“Explain,” Rikaine’s perpetual grin tightened ever so slightly, transforming his visage from attractive to menacing.
“‘Thou shall not kill’ is a rule. It’s inflexible. ‘Don’t kill unless you absolutely must, and then make it as painless as possible’ is a moral decision. ‘Thou shall not steal’ is inflexible. “Only steal if you need to, and then only from someone who can afford the loss’ is a moral decision. The rigidity of rules forces bad decisions; situational morality allows flexibility, survival.”
“Is that how you justify being a smuggler?” This time Rikaine looked sharply at Char, including her in the question.
“Ok, Thank you, Rikaine.” Char chose to ignore his last question. “Deacon, you’ve been given the rules. Learn them, live them. Dismissed.”
If you enjoyed this post, you might enjoy my short story collection The Maiden Voyage of Novyy Mir and Other Short Stories.
