A Clerical Error
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PROLOGUE
A Clerical Error
Joanni Neiswender walked down the hallway of the ISEA Headquarters Annex; her eyes cast down, watching as her shoes tapped on the marble floor with each step—an aural as well as a nostalgic journey. She was here to accept her two-year mission assignment as a cultural attaché on the ISEA galaxyship, the ISS Eridanus. A somewhat made up position, the uncharitable might say, but one the authorities had to grudgingly accept, given her unique relationship with the current Oreanian Governing Council.
The corridor was long, but eventually she paused, opened a door, and entered into a large room with a high ornate ceiling. Joanni asked for Brennan Vela, and was directed to an office off to the right.
“Old friends reunite!” Brennan said, standing up to shake Joanni’s hand.
“Congratulations on your promotion. Or is it promotions?”
Brennan waved away the question and motioned her visitor to sit down. Joanni was pleased to see that her friend’s rise through the ranks had done little to diminish the audaciousness of her apparel.
“So,” Brennan said, “congratulations are in order for you as well. You’re here, I take it, to sign off on your Eridanus assignment?”
“Yes I am. Though I have to admit, I thought they would try to stall on it. Wasn’t there some fairly rigorous opposition?”
“There was a memo circulating, requesting a hearing, but the paperwork was mishandled—misplaced and then filed after the deadline.” Brennan gave Joanni a knowing look. “An unfortunate administrative error that reflected badly on this office.” Brennan did not appear too concerned, and a current of understanding passed between them. She opened Joanni’s folder and picked up her authorization. “That’s one for the women,” was her final word on the matter. Joanni smiled, convinced more than ever that her friend would go far.
Brennan pushed her chair back and stood up. “Please stand up.” Joanni did so. “You are herefore posted, effective immediately, to the ISS Eridanus for a duration of two years as a cultural attaché at the rank of Second Lieutenant. Do you accept the nature and duration of this mission?”
“I do.”
“Do you wish to state your objectives in accepting this assignment? What do you want and what will you do; what will you bear to obtain it?”
“I wish to advance the goals of ISEA and promote scientific discovery.” Joanni paused and then added, “In a world drowning in destruction, I want to create.”
“Sign here, please.” Brennan placed the completed document in the laser coder. There was a bright flash and then all was official. They both sat back down.
“The Eridanus now supports a mixed alien bridge crew, though it’s still predominantly Earth humans,” Brennan said. “Of course, Captain Tom Chipman commands.”
“Yes.”
“Possibly he has room for more growth . . .”
Joanni did not reply.
Brennan changed tack, “Most likely you will visit Oreana again?”
“I hope so.”
“It isn’t the same, though. We are having trouble with them. They are not on good terms with ISEA at this time, although the terms were never that good. The old Primora you knew was better. It hasn’t been the same since she was disposed of.” Brennan paused. “Poisoned. Just like her bird.”
“Scuta,” Joanni said. “A tragedy.” Sadness seized her. Her mind raced back to the enigmatic and troubled world that was Oreana. “She was beautiful.” Whether Joanni was referring to the Primora or Scuta or to the planet itself was unclear.
She forgot where she was for a moment and sat in silence until Brennan said, “You have to go now. I have work to do and so do you.”
The two women once again shook hands. Brennan put two fingers on Joanni’s forehead (an Altruzian IV gesture of admiration) and said, as Joanni took her leave, “Hail and farewell, my friend. May you find adventure and what your heart is looking for.”
Image: The quality of sisterhood. Source: Detail from"Songs of Love and Death," Margaret Armour, London, 1896. Edited by J. Weigley