by Chris Hechtl
Horatio met the newly arriving flag officer at the lock with Monty. Both men were dressed in their formal uniforms and waited patiently for the shuttle to dock. Apparently the admiral had chosen a space cutter to make the hop instead of an ascraft, so the boat bay had been nixed at the last minute and the lock had been chosen.
Horatio blessed the maintenance department's hard work. They had kept on top of the cleaning and workings of the annex. Nothing squeaked and it all looked ship shape. He hoped the Admiral took that into consideration when he did his initial cursory inspection. He turned to the intelligence officer, studying him under hooded eyes.
Commander Montgomery looked a bit stuffy in his uniform; he obviously hadn't gotten comfortable wearing it. He always found some excuse to duck a function Horatio thought.
“I think I'm glad you banned the bands and cameras for this part,” Monty said out of the side of his mouth. He eyed the side party with amusement. “I think the side party is a bit much though. Shouldn't that be only for ships?”
“I'm not sure how stuffy this admiral is so I'm playing it safe. There is no sense getting off to the wrong foot over some hurt feelings,” Horatio stated flatly.
“Oh.”
He nodded in approval to the side party. The ensign in charge was nervous but realized the captain wasn't going to let him shirk his responsibility one iota. He took to the role then, having no other choice.
While the ensign nervously kept checking and rechecking the flag and his group for defects real or invisible, the captain spoke quietly with Monty. They still had a few minutes while waiting for ship to dock with the station. They watched the monitor nervously. “Anything we need to know about this admiral?” Monty asked, ready to dispense with the small talk. He felt for Horatio; he really did. Horatio seemed torn. On the one hand relieved that someone was stepping in, but on the other resenting it since he was being brushed aside like yesterday's news. The old man may have complained a bit about handling the job, but like Monty he'd grown into it just fine. Both had certainly … matured he thought as the captain organized his thoughts.
Horatio turned to look at Monty. “You mean the intel puke doesn't know?”
Monty shook his head. “Only what is in his file. And only the parts I am cleared for. I admit, I only had a chance to glance at it once. I was hoping you'd read between the lines for me.”
“He's an administrator. He came up through command track briefly, doing a stint as an XO a few times, some fortress stints and a brief captain of a tin can before he had command of a tender as a lieutenant commander. But he has spent a lot of time in staff positions after that, little warship time. He did run a couple of minor outposts and distinguished himself in orbital fortress as a captain before being transferred to R&D and more staff positions.” Monty made a face. “Just before and during the opening years of the war he ran a couple of minor star systems, but he never ran a yard. Not even a maintenance yard, so this should be interesting.” He fought the urge to sigh. Subert was a paper pusher; there were bound to be some clashes.
“So you think he'll lean on your expertise?” Monty asked, eying the older man.
“Something like that,” Horatio replied dryly. He had his internal doubts though. From his brief correspondence from the Admiral during his brief layover in Antigua, the Admiral had made it clear he had his own way of doing things and wasn't shy about stepping on toes. Things were about to get interesting.
“Shuttle 89a arriving. Please stay clear of the lock,” the AI stated from the overhead. The lock light went to red then yellow. They could see a figure in the lock through the tiny window. Then it went to green. Both men came to attention just behind the side party.
When the lock cycled, Admiral Subert was the first to step out of the lock as tradition dictated. Captain Logan nodded as the Admiral went through the salute to the colors and then it was his turn. He had no problem saluting the newly arrived Admiral though he noted Monty could have used a bit more practice.
Apparently that was also something the Admiral was aware of by the slight narrowing of his eyes. “I relieve you, Captain.”
“I stand relieved, sir. If you'll walk this way, sir, we have a brief ceremony to turn over command formally,” Horatio said, indicating the path with a wave of his hand.
The admiral's chief of staff nodded behind him. It was the sandy haired, 25-year-old Commander Saul Garretaj who had broadly hinted that a ceremony was proper. According to what Horatio had heard, the lieutenant commander had been recently promoted past first lieutenant to handle the job as the admiral's chief of staff. He was a sleeper much like the admiral and some of the other people the admiral had brought along. There wasn't a lot in the stocky man's personal jacket; he'd spent a lot of time bouncing around various staff positions.
Admiral Subert nodded briefly and smiled ever so slightly. Horatio felt a slight sense of relief over that small facial gesture.
Horatio turned slightly to Monty. “May I introduce Commander Montgomery? He is the intelligence officer in the system.”
“Commander,” the Admiral said with a slight nod and narrowing of his eyes. “This is Lieutenant Commander Garretaj, my chief of staff,” he said indicating the man standing behind him.
“A pleasure to put a face with the name, Commander,” Horatio stated, nodding to him. The chief of staff nodded politely back. “Most of the senior staff are assembled and waiting, sir, as are the press and some dignitaries who are eager to meet you.”
“Most?” There was a slight hint of rebuke in that simple word. A bit of disproving bite in the tone Horatio realized.
“Commander Decius is on medical leave, sir. His species requires frequent hibernation due to their life cycle. Commander Thornby is unavoidably detained with a medical crisis.”
“A medical crisis?” the chief of staff exclaimed as they walked.
“Yes, an outbreak of New Eden mumps and measles.”
“Don't you have vaccines?”
“Yes, but if someone refuses to take them …,” Horatio sighed and shook his head as they entered the lift. “Psychology. Herd reasoning. She's pretty livid over the stupidity. There are those out there who still insist they are above getting their children or themselves vaccinated. The whole herd thing is ….”
“I've heard the reasoning,” the chief of staff replied with a sigh.
“Yes,” Horatio replied. He noted the Admiral setting his jaw a bit. Apparently that wasn't going over well with him.
“Herd …,” Monty frowned.
“The idea that since everyone else is vaccinated they don't need it since the herd protects them,” Horatio explained. “But all it takes is one person who is a carrier to enter the group or even pass through it to disprove that theory.”
Monty nodded. “I take it the recent ship that came in from Gaston? Destiny?”
“Got it in one. A couple hundred passengers, some playing tourist on Anvil.”
“Mumps and measles did you say?” the Admiral asked. He tisked tisked a bit with a shake of his head.
“Yes. Nasty to get the combo. I feel for those kids.”
The admiral nodded gravely, remembering pain in his own past. Pain he'd hoped would have passed, but when something like this came up, it ached fresh once more. “I too. They shouldn't have to pay for their parent's ignorance and stupidity. Unfortunately, that happens all too often.”
“Not if Commander Thornby has any say in that, sir. She's issuing a mandatory vaccination program for everyone who refused the first time. She's not accepting any excuse, including from those who insist they'll never travel or have religious objections. She is working with the public affairs staff and the new governor to deal with a publicity campaign and prepare for any potential backlash.” Horatio shook his head. He didn't envy the woman and all the balls she had to juggle. “She also has her staff working up vaccine cultures to ship to Gaston, Seti Alpha 4, and the other neighboring star systems to get them sorted out. The crew of Destiny fortunately had
their vaccines so they are covered.”
“Destiny … that Zanzibar freighter? Isn't she on the books as a reserve ship?”
“Yes. We have her making regular runs to Gaston right now, Admiral,” Monty supplied. “She brings in new recruits and moves gear out to update the planet's civilization while also supplying the picket in the system.”
“Good,” the admiral replied with a curt nod as they entered the lift.
---<>---<>---
The ceremony to turn over command was held in the Annex's MPR. With the head count, they probably should have held it in the giant auditorium on San Diego, but the admiral had been clear in his ansible orders, a quick change of command and then it was time to roll up their sleeves and get to work.
Both of the senior officers were aware of how awkward the situation was. With Horatio staying around, it would be hard on him since he was used to running things. For the admiral he knew he would be instinctively looking at Horatio, expecting the man to sabotage him while their subordinates adjusted to his command style. They would be using Horatio's tenure as a meter stick for some time. He intended to smash that stick right off.
Horatio kept a professional mask on as they went through the ceremony. He got the occasional look from the governor of Anvil and the new governor of the star system. They stood and saluted through the Federation anthem then saluted the colors.
Horatio marched smartly to the podium and set the tablet down onto it. “From, Fleet Admiral John Henry Irons, Acting President of the Federation. To, Junior Captain Horatio Logan. Subject, Change of command. Effective this date you are detached from command of the naval forces and facilities in the star system Pyrax. Signed Fleet Admiral John Henry Irons.”
He was proud of himself that he didn't have a catch in his voice when he got that last part out. He picked the tablet up, tucked it under his arm, turned smartly, and stepped to the side as Admiral Subert stepped up on cue.
The admiral set his own tablet down. The device wasn't necessary; it was just a prop for the theater. “From, Fleet Admiral John Henry Irons, Acting President of the Federation. To, Rear Admiral Phillip Subert. Subject, Assumption of command. Effective this date you are to take command of the naval forces and facilities in the star system of Pyrax. Signed Fleet Admiral John Henry Irons,” he stated.
There was a bit of polite applause from the audience. Admiral Subert turned to the captain. “I relieve you, sir.”
“I stand relieved, sir,” Horatio said in a quiet voice. He saluted. The admiral returned the salute.
The admiral nodded once they struck the salutes and then turned to the command staff. Horatio went with him, making introductions. Each time he did, the admiral took their salute and returned it with one of his own.
Once the introductions were concluded, the ceremony broke up. The admiral's chief of staff hustled him off to meet the newly elected governor and some of the star system's dignitaries who had wangled their way into attendance. They were at the head of a rather long reception line. Horatio felt a sense of relief, a sense of completion that the odious ceremony was over. Still, there was a lingering … something he thought. He turned to study his fellow officers.
Commander Harris looked good in uniform. The man practically preened. He had a quartet of silver stars on his lapel, one for each of his commands. He was doing well in Damocles though his duties with his ship and his duties handling G-1 ops were coming into greater conflict now that the yard had been reactivated. Harris had given up his teaching position in San Diego. He shook the admiral's hand politely, and his eyes glittered in recognition at the admiral's ready acknowledgment of him. Obviously Admiral Subert had done his homework and knew the players Horatio thought in approval.
Lieutenant Commander Sergio “Junior” Valdez had matured greatly in Horatio's estimation. He had the hard clean edge of a fighter jock, but it was tempered with maturity. Matilda had done her best to take him under her wing to teach him the finer points of administration, and it had shown. Fighter command was running smoothly despite the occasional hiccup in adding new forces or swapping them around. Even the fighter wings on the escort carriers were doing well.
The AIs weren't in the room physically but made themselves known through their holographic avatars. They stood with the other senior staff as the ceremony concluded.
Matilda was there during ceremony, but she had bucked Horatio's order to dress in uniform he noted. Instead she wore a black and gray gown; it was quite fetching with a split right up her left leg to her hip and a broad girdle in a matching gray and black. The gown had one long black sleeve on the left side but left the right arm bare. She had gold earrings and other jewelry on as well he noted. She was wearing sensible deck shoes though. He took one long look at her and shook his head mournfully. Why hadn't she listened? No, she had to buck him, had to be perverse. She'd pay for it he thought with a pang. He turned to look at the Admiral. If the man noticed at all, he was distracted by the governor and other dignitaries that were in attendance. Horatio shot Matilda a resigned look. She stuck her tongue out at him.
He shook his head, and she caught his expression enough to put on a pretend pout. He wasn't playing games though. He'd talk to her later he thought; she should know better. At such an event, one had to make a good impression, a good first impression.
And she should get her eyes checked and not wear those silly glasses he thought as she took them off to clean the lenses again. It was the thirty-second century; you'd think she would find the time to get her eyes fixed! He sighed internally. He did nod politely to a few people who took the time to stop by and shake his hand. He knew they were checking him out for his reaction so he did his best to keep a professional air about him. Never let them see you sweat or bleed he thought.
The admiral and his chief of staff finally shook loose of the dignitaries momentarily. The admiral seemed to take all the introductions in stride, but the commander seemed a bit dazed. Horatio went over to the flag officer. “Sir ….”
“A pleasure to meet you, Admiral,” a familiar female voice said from behind him. He fought a sigh of resignation as Matilda moved in and shook hands with the man. “Matilda, sir. Commander Jani Matilda but you can call me Matilda.” When Horatio cleared his throat meaningfully, she made a slight moue. “Sir,” she added.
“Um …”
“You're out of uniform, Commander,” the chief of staff said as he pinged her implants. He scowled when they came back that she was on the senior staff.
“I'm a reservist, sonny,” Matilda said with an aside to Commander Garretaj. “Don't worry; you're not my type,” she said with a putdown look. He blinked and gaped at her like a fish.
“I'm sorry, sir, but as I was saying to the commander here, I am a reservist and was at a previous function,” she said shaking her head. “Like Doctor Thornby I have several roles to play and only the one slightly outdated body,” she said indicating her pear shape. “Things ran longer than I expected. I had to practically run to get here,” she said, looking down at her bare legs. She was sporting sensible deck shoes Horatio noted with a corner of his mind.
“All right,” the admiral said with a purse of his lips.
“I've been helping the government with the transition too. It's been a hassle; I prefer to stay in the college or war college,” Matilda stated. Monty caught her eye and just shook her head at her. She smiled and waved. The admiral's eyes cut to the commander, but the spook was wise enough to melt into the crowd before he had finished turning his head.
“Admiral, we've got to get moving if you are going to get to that staff meeting,” the chief of staff murmured from behind him.
“Yes, that's right, we're running late for that as well, aren't we? It seems to be one of those days,” Matilda stated, sighing theatrically. “But busy people. Busy, busy, busy, and all that. I'll see you then, Admiral?”
“Yes. We'll speak later,” the admiral stated with a curt nod.
“Understood, sir,” she said with a slight s
mile as the lieutenant governor came up behind her. She turned politely to look at the woman. “Yes, Miss Rolex?” She had heard interesting things about the woman. She'd been a stripper at some of the seedier clubs and casinos on Anvil. When the admiral had started the college, she'd dived in and put herself through several courses and even had a hand in administration. She'd then worked her way into the political arena.
“Um … we need you to handle a problem with the next semester college tuition hike. And Governor Saladin would like a photo op with the Admiral if that is possible.”
“Okay,” the commander replied with a nod. “I'll see you later, sir.”
The admiral nodded, watching her hip bump a bit as she walked away. “Yes indeed,” he murmured.
Horatio did his best not to roll his eyes in despair.
---<>---<>---
The command staff held their first meeting an hour and a half after the ceremony concluded. Horatio had tried to move things along after the ceremony as had the admiral's chief of staff, but the civilians had had other ideas. They'd waxed on for a bit with the new flag officer most likely feeling his temperament and intentions out.
Lieutenant Commander Sergio Valdez fighter ops, Commander Harris Ops, Ensign Kalmia, the communication's AI, the AI resource manager and logistics officer Ensign Barry, Lieutenant Jeremy Lavot, Monty, along with the admiral, Horatio, and the admiral's chief of staff.
But they were finally all here, Horatio thought, or at least almost. Decius was still hibernating he thought nodding in relief at the sight of Matilda and Thornby as they entered the conference room. Admiral Subert was not happy about the apparent informality of Matilda and Thornby when they finally entered though; he could see that right away.
“You look like hell warmed over, dearie,” Matilda said to Doctor Nara Thornby.
“Thanks a bunch,” the doctor said dryly. She waved off the offer of coffee from the lieutenant. “No, no coffee. I am over stimulated as it is. No rest for the wicked or for doctors. I'm on … what day is it?” the doctor asked, frowning thoughtfully.