Book One - Chapter Six
“Mankind’s obsessive search for perfection deprives them of the joy of this imperfect existence. Let us shift the focus from the abstract image of perfection and instead make our unique imperfections the central point that is our genuine whole Self.” - Cillian O’Tuathail - Journal entry, Year 2619
Local Time: 09:26
Date: Day 127 of the Year 93 according to the Bohemian Calendar - Year 2623 according to the Galactic Calendar
Location: Ádh - Danu - Planet Bohemia - Mid Risk Zone - MUD Territory - Galia
Back on Bohemia, Toal, Eoin and Cillian were making their way to the mess hall after their failed card game in the storage room.
“It certainly has been a wild few days,” said Toal. “I feel like the longer we are away on a mission, the wilder the parties are when we return. It was definitely quite wild for our audacious Captain.”
Toal smiled broadly and then pointed his right index finger at Cillian’s left eye whilst raising his eyebrows in quick succession.
Cillian scoffed loudly and crossed his arms before turning his face away from Toal. “How was I supposed to know the horse had a vicious temper? Nasty beast of a thing.”
“Well, that’s what you get when you steal the horse of one of the Mounted Police Officers,” responded Toal sardonically.
“Steal? Steal?” cried Cillian incredulously as he turned back towards Toal. “Heaven forfend, my dear fellow, I did not steal it! Dash the very thought. Nay, I was merely… how do you say…” he looked up at the ceiling, a quizzical expression on his face, his right hand stroking his beard whilst his left hand produced an unstoppered bottle of whisky from a pocket. “… borrowing it! The brute’s master was nowhere to be seen. Abandoned in the street it was and to me it looked all the world like it needed some company. My company, in fact.”
As they arrived at the entrance to the mess hall, the other crew members greeted them with half-hearted waves and sleepy nods. Most of them were still nursing hangovers from the festivities of the past few days. This was understandable given the length of time they had been away on active duty. Cillian and the others took seats at the long table.
The mess hall of the ship was the primary social gathering area for the crew and served as both their dining room and recreation room. The walls were lined with indoor plants that overflowed from an abundance of pots. Some climbing plants had even managed to crawl across the ceiling, creating a foliage of greenery above. The plants’ leaves and flowers were a riot of colours, from bright greens to pinks, reds, purples, blues and yellows. The Boheme loved their plants, and for this reason, most Bohemian ships contained a large number of plants.
Cillian stole a sideways glance at Aislinn before slightly turning away to take a series of quick gulps from his hip flask. Mid gulp, Aislinn suddenly snatched the bottle from his grasp in a single lightning fast motion and proceeded to shake an index finger at him as her lips pursed and her eyebrows furrowed. In response, Cillian hissed at her and bared his teeth.
One of the other crew members, a female human in her early forties, pulled up a chair beside Toal. This was Saoirse Fay, the ship’s Engineering Officer. She had university degrees in Mechanical, Electrical and Combat Engineering and could disassemble and put back together just about any piece of equipment. Saoirse was of average height with a strong, muscular physique as a result of her heavy manual labour work and her regular practice of calisthenics and resistance training.
She was also an adept practitioner of Coraíocht, which was the ancient Irish practice of wrestling. Saoirse had skin the colour of dark rosewood, reddish-brown with warm orange-red undertones. She had not always been a Boheme, which explained her distinct skin colour. Most Boheme, having descended from the Irish Travellers, had fair to olive skin. Saoirse had applied to become a citizen when she was in her early twenties and had been a citizen of Bohemia for the past sixteen years and a member of the crew for the past ten years.
“At any rate,” continued Cillian. “The good-for-nothing Police Officer and owner of said ill-tempered equine monster was temporarily indisposed at the time that I happened to stumble upon the horse in the street.”
“Mmm, most indisposed,” said Toal mock seriously as he produced a large wooden pipe from his left breast pocket. His right hand then fished into a tobacco pouch at his right waist. Smoking tobacco from a pipe was one of Toal’s favourite pastimes. “Most indisposed indeed was our dear Police Officer. As I recall it, he was busy at the time trying to retrieve his weapon belt. The same weapon belt that you, Cillian, had somehow managed to wrangle from him and throw up in a nearby tree.”
“Lies, lies, lies,” said Cillian as he leaned back, the chair teetering back on its two back legs. He lifted his arms up above his head, cupped his hands behind his neck, and looked up at the ceiling. “No, no, no, the way I recall it, the Police Officer’s weapon belt was already up the tree when I came across him and his horse. He was futilely attempting to scale the tree — with very little success I might add, short useless legs that he had — and thus I had the brilliant idea that if I were to stand upon his horse, I might be able to reach the lower branches and thereby gain access to the otherwise entirely inaccessible tree.” Cillian surreptitiously lifted his left hand away from his neck and reached down his back to grasp a hidden hip flask.
“Ah, yes, you are correct,” said Toal in between puffing upon his pipe. Thick blue-grey smoke filled the air. “Now I recall, and it was during your well-intentioned attempt to stand upon the horse that it kicked you in the face?”
“Kicked?” cried Cillian as he suddenly leaned forward. “I was verily assaulted by the demon. If it had not been for my lightning reflexes and unparalleled agility I would likely be dead right now.” Cillian scoffed and casually took a swig of whisky from the bottle that had somehow appeared in his left hand when he had returned to a seated position.
“Lightning reflexes that still allowed you to get a full kick to the face?” Toal queried.
“Not full, my dear fellow,” said Cillian. “Merely a passing glance, a tickle, a whisper of wind upon my flesh.” Cillian reached up and gingerly touched the bruising around his eye. He winced in pain. “Nay, I call foul play! It was all some sort of elaborate trap designed to get me assaulted. The weapon belt in the tree, the lonely, innocent looking horse, the pathetically pleading mounted police officer. Entrapment. A conspiracy of sorts. Shrubbery and smoke.”
Cillian took another swig of the whisky and Aislinn took a swing for the bottle but this time Cillian rebuffed her attempt with his free hand. “Mounted Police Officer,” said Cillian, scoffing in disgust. “What an absurd title and what an even more absurd vocation. Learn to ride a bloody Airbike, I say!” yelled Cillian, his eyes bulging in the process.
“But you love horses,” said Toal.
“I do, very much in fact, but imagine trying to catch a criminal who is escaping in a spaceship whilst you are riding after them on horseback. Ridiculous!”
“So how was it that you managed to mount his horse in the end?” asked Toal, changing the subject. “That part I genuinely do not understand, despite having seen it happen with my own eyes. After having just been kicked in the head by the horse you somehow managed to mount the damn thing and then went on a wild horse race through the National Capital, all the while being chased by half the Danu Mounted Police Force.” Toal shook his head. “You should have seen the police officer’s face after you stole his horse and went galloping off.” Toal rumbled with laughter.
“Borrowed, dear fellow. Borrowed,” said Cillian. “But yes, after our initial disagreement, the horse and I made amends. I am a horse whisperer, after all. It is in my very blood.” Cillian was referring to the fact that the O’Tuathail Family were renowned horse breeders and horse racers. Cillian had never been particularly involved or interested in the horse breeding side of the Family’s economic affairs, despite the fact that they owned several large horse breeding farms. He had, however, enjoyed the horse riding side of things and had been a champion horse racer during his late teenage years.
“My, my, we flew that night…” Cillian cocked his head to the left and looked up at the wall, his eyes clouding over with fond recollection.
Toal chuckled softly and then pulled on his pipe.
“And how did you come to be naked?” asked Aislinn, her eyebrows arching and her head tilting slightly to one side.
“Ah, yes, well as to that, I do recall that the horse insisted upon it. It having no saddle or reins, it argued that it would only be fair if I were also naked.”
“You were riding it bareback? With no reins?” stammered Saoirse incredulously.
“Why, of course, that is the only proper way to ride a horse. None of that saddle and reins nonsense. So, naturally, being the considerate soul that I am, I obliged the horse in its request. I tore off my clothing, and we then took to the streets. We led the Mounted Police Corps on a merry chase.”
“How many psilocybin mushrooms had you consumed at that point in time?” asked Saoirse.
“Oh, hard to say, really. I never really stopped eating them, you see. The only thing I kept with me as I rode was my mushroom bag, which was tied around my neck. It was quite an experience, I must say. The city lights at night, the festival music being played at various locations, the smell of burning wood from all the ceremonial bonfires, the thrill of being chased. Ah, it was truly a euphoric experience.”
“And then you were arrested,” Aislinn said, looking pointedly at Cillian.
“My dear, I was not arrested,” said Cillian, shaking his head. “My good friends at the Police Department simply knew how tired I was and made their lovely sleeping quarters available for my use. Free of charge, too, I should add.”
“Sleeping quarters that were in a jail cell,” said Aislinn in a flat tone.
“Sleeping quarters nonetheless. Let us not quibble on the details, sweetest angel of mine.” Cillian smiled widely in what he hoped was an endearing manner. Noting her lack of response, Cillian squinted his eyes suspiciously and then began to slide his chair away from her whilst slowly, deliberately, bringing the bottle of whisky to his mouth. Anticipating an imminent snatch, he began to pre-emptively ward her off with his free hand, but the snatch was not forthcoming and Aislinn merely sighed and rolled her eyes. She then locked gazes with Toal, but Toal simply smiled and shrugged at her.
“Don’t think I don’t know that you are just as bad as he is, Toal,” said Aislinn. Toal feigned hurt, his brow furrowing as he pointed his pipe at himself as if to say who me?. “Had another horse been available for you to ride, I am certain I would have been bailing out the two of you right this moment. As it was only Cillian was arrested, this time. The pair of you are as bad as each other and triply bad when Saoirse is added to the mix.”
“Hey don’t bring me into this,” complained Saoirse as she pulled absently at a thread in her clothes. Saoirse was perennially wearing a pair of stained dark blue overalls, which truth be told were more patches than original garment. Cillian was convinced that she never washed them, as she appeared to always be wearing the same pair of overalls. He had observed that she even wore them under her military armour. Saoirse found it amusing how much this concept bothered him and for this reason she had made the decision several years ago not to dispel him from his belief. The reality was that she had over a dozen pairs of different, albeit similar looking, patched overalls and changed them on a daily basis.
“I gave up trying to keep up with those louts on the second day,” continued Saoirse. “Too much running around for me. Instead, I ended up finding myself a cute lass, and we shacked up together to investigate the more, how would you say, intimate —.”
“Right! We don’t need to hear about all that then,” interjected Aislinn loudly. “Tea? Who would like tea then?”
The crew collectively nodded their assent.
“Well, Toal, then what happened?” asked Saoirse.
“I actually don’t know much of what occurred, given I was not present with Cillian during his mad ride through the city. But from what I gathered from the police report, a group of other similarly mad festival goers joined Cillian, all with horses of their own. Soon there were a few dozen riders, all streaking up and down the streets of the capital, all the while being chased by the Mounted Police Corps. At some point in the evening, they were apparently allowed onto the National Horse Racing Tracks, where an actual horse race was already occurring. How on earth they managed to get the security to let them in through the side gates is anyone’s guess, but I suspect that Cillian’s Family name and reputation had something to do with it. You can imagine what ensued after that. Absolute chaos is what it was. Cillian and his merry band of high-on-mushroom loonies joined the other riders in the horse race of a lifetime, watched on by several thousand cheering onlookers. This portion of Cillian’s wild adventure was actually recorded as the race was being live-streamed across Bohemia. I have already watched the footage, and it is admittedly quite hilarious.”
Toal began to laugh at the recollection, his slow rumbling laughter causing his braids to shake back and forth.
“How did they end up catching you?” asked Saoirse. This time her question was directed to Cillian.
“They did not catch me. I surrendered. Truth be told, I had grown bored and a little weary. I wanted a nap, and I knew I would have my own private sleeping quarters at the Police station.”
“He had broken several laws,” said Toal as he withdrew a slip of paper from a pocket and began reading aloud. “Larceny; civil disruption; incitement to a riot; public nudity in a non-authorised area; and the assault of a Policer Officer.”
“I object vehemently to the last noted offence,” said Cillian. “The rest is likely true, but I never assaulted that fool of a Police Officer. The clumsy dunce simply fell face first on my boot when I was trying to assist him up the tree. What a preposterous accusation!”
“At any rate,” continued Toal. “Those were the noted violations committed by our rebellious Captain.”
“Where was Reginald during this entire affair?” asked Saoirse. “Last time I saw the pair of you, he was still with you. That was admittedly two days ago.”
The Reginald that Saoirse was referring to was Cillian’s personal bodyguard robot. The military-grade assault robot had been issued to Cillian when he had attained the rank of Captain some ten years prior. All Boheme officers of rank Captain and above were required to travel with a robot bodyguard escort when away from their primary ship. Even during their Down-Time. This was a mandatory safety precaution to protect Military Officers who were at a significantly higher risk of assassination or kidnapping attempts. Cillian hated the rule, as he valued his independence and freedom so dearly, but he had no choice but to comply with the mandate. For the most part, at least.
“Well,” said Cillian. “It took us the better part of an afternoon to shake the old nanny. He is worse than a nursemaid when he sets his mind to it. He just would not let up in his tireless pursuit.”
These personal bodyguard robots were programmed to follow and guard their ward at all times and at all costs when away from the ship, even if ordered by the Officer not to. In the event that the officer was somehow separated from the robot, then the robot would still be able to locate their wards via a tracking navigation system, which would allow the robot to track the Officer so long as they were not greater than five kilometres away. Beyond that distance and the robot would be unable to detect the Officer and they would be forced to return to the ship to await the Officer’s return.
“We managed to entice the persistent old codger into an abandoned heavy duty shipping container on the pretext of looking for spare parts for Toal’s workshop. But the wily fellow was already onto us.”
“Yes,” said Toal, taking up the story. “He was quite suspicious that we would be so far outside the city’s limits when a festival was in full swing.”
“Not to mention his memory of all our past duplicitous ploys to rid ourselves of him,” said Cillian.
“But this time we got the better of him and we managed to trap him in the container. Mind you, he made short work of the container door, the laser weapons built into his arms cutting through the one and a half inch thick steel like butter. But we had slowed him down enough for us to make our escape in Cillian’s Fimbul Lowbie.”
Toal paused in his regaling of the story to take a few short sharp puffs of his pipe. Cillian continued the tale and said, “Of course Reginald used the thrusters on his feet to chase us up in the air, but we were headed for Nemed, so he soon had to give up the chase as his thruster fuel was rapidly depleted. Once we had moved beyond his tracking range, we were finally free of the wretched bloodhound. He was forced to capitulate, and he returned to Ádh in defeat.”
Nemed was the National Space Station, that was located in the extra-atmospheric space directly above Danu. It was easily accessible by an x-small ship like a Fimbul Lowbie, even by an xx-small ship, but the jet thrusters, located on the underside of the metallic feet of Reginald, were not capable of propelling him such a vast distance.
“And then what happened?” queried Saoirse.
“We went to a few parties up on Nemed, but we soon grew bored with the scene,” responded Cillian.
“Only the snooty elites like to party up on Nemed. Except these snooty elites,” said Toal, pointing his pipe at Cillian and then Fiadh. Toal was making fun of the fact that Cillian and Fiadh were part of one of the most powerful and wealthiest Families in Bohemia. The O’Tuathail Family were the wealthiest Family in Bohemia and, whilst they were no longer the most powerful politically, and had not been since the death of Caedmon O’Tuathail, the founder of Bohemia, they still retained significant political power thanks to their mother Una O’Tuathail. Una O’Tuathail was the Clann Chief of Clann Aodh and had been in this position for the last six years. After mourning the loss of her husband, Cian O’Tuaithail, who had disappeared mysteriously eighteen years prior, Una had decided to enter the arena of Clann and Family politics. She was a naturally talented orator and debater and had worked for much of her younger life prior to having children as a diplomat. She was, therefore, already well versed in the subtleties of politics. Her eldest son, Liam O’Tuathail, had followed her on this path and he had just served his first year as an Aodh Clann Councillor.
“I am neither snooty nor an elite,” said Cillian, holding his nose in the air. Besides, I have spent far too long with you riff-raff to be considered as an elite by any of my peers.”
“Ah ha. So you admit they are your peers, then.”
“As are you all. Everyone is my peer. Except that damnable dog of yours. Duke! I am convinced that the beast is mocking me with its ridiculous saluting and looking at itself in the mirror. I believe it has a severe case of narcissism.”
“Well, that makes two of you then,” muttered Toal around his pipe, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
“What was that?” said Cillian, leaning forward over the table.
“Okay,” interjected Saoirse. “So, Toal, going back to the part in the story where Cillian got arrested, what did you say to get him free?”
“Oh, the usual story, that Cillian was a retarded sibling of mine who had unfortunately suffered a terrible kick to the head from a horse as a child and had never been the same since. I told them that he had escaped from his cage during the festivities and I apologised profusely and promised to take him home immediately and lock him back up again.”
Saoirse began to laugh, which made the others begin to laugh, and soon, even Aislinn was laughing.
“They surely didn’t believe that,” said Saoirse after she had caught her breath.
“Not one word of it.”
“Oh. So how did he get free then?”
“Well,” said Cillian. “As to that, they realised their mistakes, apologised profusely and simply let me free.”
“Lies,” said Ádh, her voice coming from all directions thanks to the many speakers installed in the mess hall. “The probability that he bribed the guards to let him free is very high.”
Despite the fact that Ádh had not intended to be funny, the others broke out into laughter again at this statement.
Cillian let out a groan of despair, but before he could respond, Eoin spoke up.
“Sorry to change the subject,” said Eoin. “But I was wondering who would replace Kieran in the role of rig operator now that he has chosen to retire?”
The laughter subsided quickly, and all attention turned to Cillian, awaiting his response. This was a serious topic and one that everyone had been speculating about.
Kieran had been the rig operator aboard Ádh for the past ten years. He had been part of the original crew that Cillian had formed ten years prior when he had attained the rank of Captain in the Bohemian National Military and had finally been able to choose his own squadron crew. No one had known Kieran’s exact age, but the crew had suspected that he was in his late eighties. This was actually relatively young for retirement, as the average Bohemian life expectancy was around one hundred and thirty-five years. As a result of advances in medical technology, the rate of aging for the Boheme population was significantly slower than it had been for their Terran ancestors. It was for this reason that many Boheme were still actively working even past a hundred.
Kieran had still been fit and healthy when he had decided to retire from military service therefore, his reasons for retirement had not been health related. Rather, he had told them that he wished to focus his time and energy on sculpture, which was his passion. The crew had held a big farewell party for Kieran on the first evening of their return from space. The next morning Kieran had taken his leave of the crew and had departed back to the Corca Oiche Clann mothership, where he normally resided when not on active military duty.
“Good question, Eoin,” said Cillian as he stood up and began to pace the length of the room. “I have been thinking about this a great deal myself. Whilst I do not have any specific candidates in mind, I believe I will recruit someone from the National University. As much as we loved dear old Kieran, he was a little long in the fang and I believe we need some new young blood in the crew. No, his replacement shall be someone young. And a female this time. Someone with a fresh mind and spirit. Yes, a fresh young female recruit would do nicely.”
Cillian turned back to the crew. They were all shaking their heads at him, save for Aislinn, whose eyes were flaying him with the intensity of her jealous stare.
“Uh… no. That came out all wrong. I can see now how that would sound to you all. Oh dear me, what have I done. What I meant to say is that I will go out this very day to find an appropriate applicant with the capacity to diligently and effectively perform the inherent job requirements of the role. Questions of age, sex and experience will not form any part of the decision-making process. Better?”
“Actually, I believe —“ began Eoin, but he was suddenly cut off by Cillian.
“Oh do be quiet, you. It was a rhetorical question. In any case, I think I may take this as an opportunity to depart,” said Cillian as he began to back rapidly towards the mess hall entrance.
“Farewell all, and if any of you have departed to your respective homes before I return from my recruitment adventure, then I thank you sincerely for your service these past six months. It has been an absolute pleasure, as always. You are the best crew that anyone could ever ask for and every day I feel extremely grateful for having you all in my life. I love you all and consider you as my family and can only hope that you feel the same for me.”
Cillian bowed at this point and when he straightened, he could see that some of the crew were starting to get emotional in response to his speech. Several had tears welling in their eyes. Unfortunately, Cillian also noticed that Aislinn had picked up a nearby teapot. “Uh… let us continue this discussion another time, shall we? May you all have a wonderfully enjoyable and well deserved three months of Down-Time.”
With those final parting words, Cillian ducked through the doorway, only narrowly avoiding a teapot that had been flung by Aislinn.