[Witches' Horses] Sibir
Title: going down the checklist
'Verse/characters: Sibir; Stas, Sergeievich, various others
Prompt: 17F: "experience"
Word Count: 1110
Notes: billradish asked for "something with Stas early in his association with Sergeieivich" when I couldn't manage the late-stages expansion she'd originally asked for.
Previous lievtenants under Sergeievich's command have been mentioned in middle management sucks; this is obviously after new arrival, following relatively closely, and is before new command, new responsibilities.
Vocab: a zastava is a mobile outpost that acts sort of like an aircraft carrier. A Rotmistr is a captain (generally of cavalry); an artel is a unit, as is a druzhina but a druzhina is used in the sense of 'so-and-so's unit/command' instead of the more general artel.
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Stas wasn't stupid. When he discovered his schedule was a half-shift off of the Ivan Kupalo's standard sets, he decided to stay up and try to match schedules the long way: he had a lot to get done, and suspected he didn't have a lot of time to do it in.
Ivan Kupalo was a newer zastava than Sankt Sophia had been, though the doors seemed to be just as temperamental. He managed to stow his gear in the tiny private cabin he'd been assigned without having to call for help, but it was a near thing. Going to pay homage to the file sergeants seemed like the next logical step, so he'd headed down, wound up in an engineering bay by taking a wrong turn, and still fetched up in front of the desk before they'd sent off the message requiring his presence.
That was the last thing that went well for the next couple hours. After giving him the names of his sergeants--yet another Ivanov and an Olshansky, which was a new one--they'd been surprisingly close-mouthed about anything else to do with Rotmistr Sergeievich. Even when he'd pointed out that he was in the man's druzhina and kind of needed to get a feel for the men he'd have command of, and be working with, he'd gotten nowhere.
He had more success with his own sergeants after the evening meal; Sergeievich had messaged them, since Stas' paperwork was still trickling down the chain, and he'd gotten invited to an empty captain's office. He wasn't sure if he was stung that he hadn't been invited into the sergeants' mess, or relieved that he hadn't had to meet every single sergeant on the shift--and maybe a few more, if word had gotten around--at once.
Several hours later, he still wasn't sure, but Yuri Danilovich Ivanov had given him permission to call him by his first name, laughing when Stas had grinned and admitted his worry that he'd get four 'yes?'s if he called 'Ivanov' down an open communication channel, and Natan Olshansky had given him a few names to try looking up in the system until he found something to bribe the file sergeants with.
Which was how he wound up reading up on several of the men who'd been Rotmistr Sergeievich's levs over the last year-and-change slightly hungover but not regretting it. It wasn't like he couldn't work through a headache, and it wasn't even particularly bad. Whoever they were buying the vodka from knew his business.
Sergeievich's current levs were a David Valentinov, infantry, who'd been with him for a while and apparently knew what he was doing, given the commendations, a Fedir Evanko--and there was a Ukrainian name--also infantry, who'd been transferred over from another Rotmistr's druzhina, and possibly a Dmitri Markovich. Depended on how the court-martial an infantry Captain was trying to push on the man would end. No detail in the unlocked files as to what had happened; Stas had to guess based on the suspended rank and the serial series of the suspension code.
He bet himself a kopeck that Markovich would be around; what little he could see of the man's file implied he'd been with Sergeievich almost since he'd made Rotmistr. Markovich'd be useful to talk to, assuming the file sergeants held out. Even if they did hand over the files, Markovich would probably know different details, maybe more. Sergeievich had come out of nowhere, and Stas was pretty sure he himself'd be dead if he hadn't.
Which was a little funny to think about; before he'd reported in he'd been expecting someone a lot older than Sergeievich looked.
Sergeievich's file, when he tried it a minute later, was a blank wall of password-protected beyond the name, current rank, current post information everyone had access to. After a few seconds of bemused staring, he decided to go find something to eat instead. It would probably be easier.
An hour later, he knew for a fact that Yuri hadn't been kidding about the food in the riders' mess, but had finished eating anyway. He spared a moment to miss Captain Ivanov's druzhina, the way it'd been before the lake at Novhy-Novgorod, then went looking for his current sergeants.
Yuri was on a rotated shift, so he sat down with Olshansky in one of the open-access offices. Between them, they hammered out a practice schedule that would let him get to know everyone before the next time Sergeievich's druzhina was expected to come back off reserves. Stas discovered Sergeievich had put him with Valentinov's infantry when he logged in to send the schedule over to be approved or amended, so Stas sent over a private message asking to meet at some point soon.
He hated being last man in to a druzhina in general, but not even knowing if he was stepping into a dead man's boots or if someone had gotten promoted made it a lot worse.
He still dredged up a grin when he went by Sergeievich's office to make sure the practice schedule had gotten through, though, and Sergeievich blinked a couple of times when he found Stas at his door for the second time in eighteen hours.
"Sophia ate the odd message," Stas explained after they'd exchanged salutes and Sergeievich had asked what brought Stas back.
"Ah. In my experience, Kupalo mostly locks doors," Sergeievich replied, and the zastava cooperated by locking them in as soon as Stas cleared the door.
Captain Ivanov would have muttered something impolite. Sergeievich didn't even sigh, just got up from behind his desk, traded places with Stas with an ease that said good things about his riding skills, and went to work on the access panel with a couple of insulated tools.
"Happens a lot?" Stas couldn't help asking as the door slid back open, and Sergeievich looked over his left shoulder, slightly surprised.
"More often than it should," he said, blocking the door with the edge of his boot, "but mostly up in the offices or the private quarters. Haven't heard about a problem down in the bays or in the barracks."
"Good to know," Stas replied as they switched places again, getting his boot down before the door could try closing. "Thanks," he added, and Sergeievich blinked.
"Your schedule's fine. Olshansky help you?" he asked after a second, and Stas nodded.
"He knows what he's about. Anything else for me?"
"I assume you're going to sleep at some point," Sergeievich said, just a touch dry, and Stas grinned.
"That an order, sir?"
"Consider it a suggestion, lievtenant."
"'Stas' really is easier, sir," Stas just had to point out, but took himself off after another couple minutes.
This might just work out.
'Verse/characters: Sibir; Stas, Sergeievich, various others
Prompt: 17F: "experience"
Word Count: 1110
Notes: billradish asked for "something with Stas early in his association with Sergeieivich" when I couldn't manage the late-stages expansion she'd originally asked for.
Previous lievtenants under Sergeievich's command have been mentioned in middle management sucks; this is obviously after new arrival, following relatively closely, and is before new command, new responsibilities.
Vocab: a zastava is a mobile outpost that acts sort of like an aircraft carrier. A Rotmistr is a captain (generally of cavalry); an artel is a unit, as is a druzhina but a druzhina is used in the sense of 'so-and-so's unit/command' instead of the more general artel.
---------
Stas wasn't stupid. When he discovered his schedule was a half-shift off of the Ivan Kupalo's standard sets, he decided to stay up and try to match schedules the long way: he had a lot to get done, and suspected he didn't have a lot of time to do it in.
Ivan Kupalo was a newer zastava than Sankt Sophia had been, though the doors seemed to be just as temperamental. He managed to stow his gear in the tiny private cabin he'd been assigned without having to call for help, but it was a near thing. Going to pay homage to the file sergeants seemed like the next logical step, so he'd headed down, wound up in an engineering bay by taking a wrong turn, and still fetched up in front of the desk before they'd sent off the message requiring his presence.
That was the last thing that went well for the next couple hours. After giving him the names of his sergeants--yet another Ivanov and an Olshansky, which was a new one--they'd been surprisingly close-mouthed about anything else to do with Rotmistr Sergeievich. Even when he'd pointed out that he was in the man's druzhina and kind of needed to get a feel for the men he'd have command of, and be working with, he'd gotten nowhere.
He had more success with his own sergeants after the evening meal; Sergeievich had messaged them, since Stas' paperwork was still trickling down the chain, and he'd gotten invited to an empty captain's office. He wasn't sure if he was stung that he hadn't been invited into the sergeants' mess, or relieved that he hadn't had to meet every single sergeant on the shift--and maybe a few more, if word had gotten around--at once.
Several hours later, he still wasn't sure, but Yuri Danilovich Ivanov had given him permission to call him by his first name, laughing when Stas had grinned and admitted his worry that he'd get four 'yes?'s if he called 'Ivanov' down an open communication channel, and Natan Olshansky had given him a few names to try looking up in the system until he found something to bribe the file sergeants with.
Which was how he wound up reading up on several of the men who'd been Rotmistr Sergeievich's levs over the last year-and-change slightly hungover but not regretting it. It wasn't like he couldn't work through a headache, and it wasn't even particularly bad. Whoever they were buying the vodka from knew his business.
Sergeievich's current levs were a David Valentinov, infantry, who'd been with him for a while and apparently knew what he was doing, given the commendations, a Fedir Evanko--and there was a Ukrainian name--also infantry, who'd been transferred over from another Rotmistr's druzhina, and possibly a Dmitri Markovich. Depended on how the court-martial an infantry Captain was trying to push on the man would end. No detail in the unlocked files as to what had happened; Stas had to guess based on the suspended rank and the serial series of the suspension code.
He bet himself a kopeck that Markovich would be around; what little he could see of the man's file implied he'd been with Sergeievich almost since he'd made Rotmistr. Markovich'd be useful to talk to, assuming the file sergeants held out. Even if they did hand over the files, Markovich would probably know different details, maybe more. Sergeievich had come out of nowhere, and Stas was pretty sure he himself'd be dead if he hadn't.
Which was a little funny to think about; before he'd reported in he'd been expecting someone a lot older than Sergeievich looked.
Sergeievich's file, when he tried it a minute later, was a blank wall of password-protected beyond the name, current rank, current post information everyone had access to. After a few seconds of bemused staring, he decided to go find something to eat instead. It would probably be easier.
An hour later, he knew for a fact that Yuri hadn't been kidding about the food in the riders' mess, but had finished eating anyway. He spared a moment to miss Captain Ivanov's druzhina, the way it'd been before the lake at Novhy-Novgorod, then went looking for his current sergeants.
Yuri was on a rotated shift, so he sat down with Olshansky in one of the open-access offices. Between them, they hammered out a practice schedule that would let him get to know everyone before the next time Sergeievich's druzhina was expected to come back off reserves. Stas discovered Sergeievich had put him with Valentinov's infantry when he logged in to send the schedule over to be approved or amended, so Stas sent over a private message asking to meet at some point soon.
He hated being last man in to a druzhina in general, but not even knowing if he was stepping into a dead man's boots or if someone had gotten promoted made it a lot worse.
He still dredged up a grin when he went by Sergeievich's office to make sure the practice schedule had gotten through, though, and Sergeievich blinked a couple of times when he found Stas at his door for the second time in eighteen hours.
"Sophia ate the odd message," Stas explained after they'd exchanged salutes and Sergeievich had asked what brought Stas back.
"Ah. In my experience, Kupalo mostly locks doors," Sergeievich replied, and the zastava cooperated by locking them in as soon as Stas cleared the door.
Captain Ivanov would have muttered something impolite. Sergeievich didn't even sigh, just got up from behind his desk, traded places with Stas with an ease that said good things about his riding skills, and went to work on the access panel with a couple of insulated tools.
"Happens a lot?" Stas couldn't help asking as the door slid back open, and Sergeievich looked over his left shoulder, slightly surprised.
"More often than it should," he said, blocking the door with the edge of his boot, "but mostly up in the offices or the private quarters. Haven't heard about a problem down in the bays or in the barracks."
"Good to know," Stas replied as they switched places again, getting his boot down before the door could try closing. "Thanks," he added, and Sergeievich blinked.
"Your schedule's fine. Olshansky help you?" he asked after a second, and Stas nodded.
"He knows what he's about. Anything else for me?"
"I assume you're going to sleep at some point," Sergeievich said, just a touch dry, and Stas grinned.
"That an order, sir?"
"Consider it a suggestion, lievtenant."
"'Stas' really is easier, sir," Stas just had to point out, but took himself off after another couple minutes.
This might just work out.