[dumbluck]

Admiral Daxin Cavix fidgeted in his seat. What a novel concept. His seat. He had never "sat" before Last week. No one had, for that matter. Now that's all he ever did. Sit. But he had to be able to move about; he would not allow himself to be a cripple, to be destitute. He refused to admit even to himself that without his hoversled, that's exactly what he was.

What a monstrosity! A metal contraption, painted red, custom designed and constructed to allow him to jet around "just as if nothing had happened!" Bah! He was still struggling to master these bLasted controls! There were already several scuffs and scratches in that forsaken red paint. He had no doubt that there would be several more before he became proficient in it's use.

"How are you getting on with the hoversled, sir?"

Commodore Xavan had come "just to see how you were doing", but he knew the real purpose of her visit: he was being evaluated. High Command had to determine whether he could still perform his duties as Expeditionary Force Commander, and Xavan was his judge. The logical choice, of coarse; she was the highest ranking of his ministers. That didn't make being evaluated by a junior any more pleasant, of coarse. "Well", he silently growled, "let's see just how well my evaluation is going."

As he did a quick and nearly perfect figure eight around the room, he lied, "Quite well, actually. I couldn't wait to get my arm cast off so that I could start working with it. This machine is a beauty to control. I could almost do it in my sleep." He was lucky, twice during his little exhibition he nearly lost control and careened into a wall. But Xavan seemed quite impressed.

"I didn't think that you would be getting around so well, so soon. Congratulations, sir. And how is your side doing?"

"It is still rather tender; I still have to take the painkillers every once in a while. Doctor Haxen says that 3 of my ribs are still fractured, but that all are healing nicely." He flashes her a conspiratory grin. "He's also quite pleased with himself regarding how little the disfigurements from the neotissue are manifesting. He says that within 3 months they won't even be noticable."

A moment of awkward silence follows, as Xavan seems unsure of how to end the conversation. Cavix realizes that his chance has come. "You know, the doctor's don't let me get much news in here. They seem to think that the universe has stopped turning, and won't start up again until they say so. How's everything going out there?"

Xavan's discomfort becomes even more evident on her face; which says a lot, considering that she is his Political Minister. He knows why, of coarse. Since he is on a Medical Relief of Duty, he technically isn't the EFC right now. Therefore, since most of the strategic info is "need to know", and he doesn't currently need to know... He has put her in a moral quandary. That was his intention, of coarse. How much information she is willing to divulge is a good indication of how likely she is to report that he is capable of continuing in his command role to High Command.

"Honestly, sir, I really shouldn't tell you anything. As you well know, our Strategic Readiness Status is classified..."

"Oh, I know that." He gives her an understanding smile, trying to set her doubts asside. "I'm not asking for specifics, of coarse, just a feel of the situation," he countered. "Come on, Xavan," he silently pleaded, "trust me".

"Well..." Xavan looked at him, torn between loyalty to her Commander and her orders. For a brief moment she wavered in indecision, her hover becoming erratic as she tottered between two opposing forces in her life. It wasn't the first time that Cavix had "bent the rules", so to speak. She considered it a bad precedent to set, but... Suddenly she came to a decision.

"We're doing very well. Our orbital construction platform network is fully operational, and our Scout ships have begun reconnaissance in the surrounding systems. Preliminary reports are in line with the initial Intel reports on the quadrant. Overall, we are on schedule."

Cavix smiled warmly, putting on his most friendly air. "Thanks. It's good to know that everything is in your capable hands." He found out what he wanted to know. He knew she would send a favorable report about his condition. High Command would likely follow her recommendation; sending a new Command Level unit to this distant quadrant would be difficult, and inefficient. And it would be a waste. He knew he could still fulfill his duties. It was his sole reason for existence. If he weren't in command, what else would he do?