by Chris Hechtl
“Thursday,” Matilda supplied.
“Spirit of space that makes forty-eight hours. I am getting old,” the doctor murmured, running a hand through her hair. She looked a little frazzled but turned to nod to the Admiral. “Sorry I'm late, Admiral,” Doctor Thornby said, holding out a hand. He looked at it, then her. Finally he took it. They shook briefly.
“Commander Nara Thornby,” she said as she shook his hand. “I am a reservist and your chief medical officer. A pleasure to meet you, sir,” she said as they disengaged. Her hands went into the pockets of her white overcoat.
“I'm sure,” he said dryly. “You were handling an outbreak?”
“Yes, sir,” she said, now thoroughly vexed as she flopped into her assigned chair. “Stupidity at its finest. Lemmings all of them. I swear, if it weren't for their kids I'd quarantine the lot of them and let them suffer.”
“Doctor …”
“I know, that's against the basic medical creed to ease suffering. But to indulge in such fantasy then whine when reality smacks you in the face like that ….” She shook her head in frustration. “We'll get the situation under control, sir. And as you know it doesn't affect military personnel or their dependents. I was pretty rigorous on that end.”
“But the civilians weren't?”
Horatio winced slightly. The doctor frowned. “Sir, I am the civilian side as well actually. It was mandatory in some colonies but voluntary in others. I'm now changing that. We're also linking it to education. Basic health and welfare checks and vaccinations should be and damn it will be mandatory. We can't afford another outbreak nor a mutation.”
“I see,” the admiral murmured. All eyes turned to him. He was clearly uncomfortable. “I went through this before, Doctor,” he said. She raised an eyebrow. He cleared his throat. “My sister and her husband at the time bought into the autism argument against vaccinations.”
“That old gag?” the doctor rolled her eyes in exasperation.
“Yes well, it cost my niece her life,” the admiral said flatly, making her eyes widen in surprise. “And my nephew was badly scarred.”
“I'm sorry,” the doctor murmured, instantly becoming sympathetic and contrite. “You have my sympathies.” Then her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, spirit of space what am I saying? They are all long gone now … I'm sorry.” She shook her head as her hand slowly dropped. “Sorry for your loss.”
The admiral looked stern and then nodded curtly. There was a long silence, long enough to make a few people squirm. Then the Admiral nodded again and seemed to settle himself.
“All right then, we have business to attend. I noticed that during the flight out here there was no picket in B-452C. That is going to be rectified. We'll sort out the details in a moment. But we need to attend to some personnel changes,” he said.
“That sounds ominous,” Monty murmured. The admiral's eyes turned to him.
“Horatio, you do not have any current orders so I am not certain what to do with you.” Before the captain could say anything, the flag officer rolled on. “It is my unfortunate duty to do some pruning here. Commander Harris, I've seen your performance at Ops is lacking its former luster. There is a reason a staff officer cannot also hold a ship command. Therefore I am firing you from the ops position,” he stated.
Harris flushed in anger but didn't say anything as he rose.
“You are dismissed, Commander. Return to your ship and your duty.”
“Aye aye, sir,” Harris ground out as he turned and departed. All eyes watched him go.
“Commander Decius is also relieved. He has not been doing his duties to my satisfaction. As for Commander Montgomery,” he turned to the intel spook, “you too are relieved for nonperformance. Pack your bags and get out of here. Report to BUPERS for reassignment,” he stated.
Matilda seemed shaken. Thornby stared, eyes wide, taken aback by what happened. The room temperature visibly dropped.
“You haven't performed to the standards necessary to hold your post. You have been too slow and made far, far too many mistakes.” The admiral shook his head. “I know you, like a lot of other officers in their present or past positions, are or were learning your jobs as you went. I can only excuse so much,” he stated, cold eyes boring into the intelligence officer. “If I had my way, I'd demote you,” the admiral said, eying the intelligence officer with cold favor.
Horatio frowned and then couldn't help but object. “Sir, his jacket is exemplary. As his former CO, I can assure you he has done well.”
Subert raised a hand to stop Horatio. “Save it.” He knew what Horatio was doing, taking on the blame to protect a subordinate. It wasn't going to wash.
“Sir, you can't write a report on him after having him under your command for five minutes,” his chief of staff protested.
The admiral turned scathing eyes on his chief of staff for a moment, long enough to make the man flinch. “But I don't want him. I don't want anyone here who doesn't want to be here. Who doesn't deserve to be here,” Subert said, eying Monty with loathing.
“Sir, his initial mistakes are due to his learning the job like everyone else here and a lack of leadership. That's on me, sir. But he has picked it up since then,” Horatio stated.
Subert eyed him for a long moment. He wanted to send Horatio packing as well, but Horatio's special relationship with Irons made him reconsider it. “Fine. He's out though. Nothing official on his record.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You are dismissed then, Commander Montgomery.” The admiral waited as the former intelligence officer rose from his chair, murmured a good luck to the others, and then exited the room. Then Admiral Subert's eyes fell on Horatio once more like leveled gun tubes. “You are out too, Captain.”
Horatio blinked. “Sir?”
“I know it is awkward to relieve an officer and have them stay around. We can't help that. But I can't have you as my operational officer. Too much of a conflict there.”
“Sir, I thought that was what an ops officer did. They made certain things ran smoothly while playing devil's advocate.”
“Well, I run things a bit differently. So you are out. BUPERS can find you something else once I find someone to replace Commander Decius.”
“I am also BuShips, sir,” Horatio said stiffly.
“We'll need someone else there then too …,” Subert said then sighed.
“Um, sir, the next officer in line is too junior,” his chief of staff warned. Subert eyed him. “She was just promoted to lieutenant commander, sir.”
The admiral waved a dismissive hand. “Great. Fine, you can stay there then for now.”
“Thank you, sir,” Horatio said, feeling like he wanted to gag.
“The yard has been a bright shiny spot in this system,” the chief of staff said, shooting Horatio a brief supportive look. “You and your people have done well, Captain.” He nodded in approval.
“Thank you.”
“You mean my people now, Saul,” Admiral Subert rebuked. The chief of staff nodded.
“You'll serve as my ops officer for now, Commander,” the admiral said, looking at his chief of staff. Saul blinked and then nodded. “It is only temporary,” he warned. Again, a nod of understanding. “Order Commander Montgomery to report to BUPERS for reassignment once he's cleared his office out. Tell him to be quick about it. He'll need a security debrief as well,” the admiral said. He waved a hand. “And the usual briefs for his replacement.”
“Yes sir. His command authorization has already been revoked,” Ensign Barry the resource manager AI reported neutrally.
The admiral grunted. “Very well then,” he said after a moment. “Commander Decius is also out the door. You can notify him when he wakes … if he ever wakes,” he said in annoyance.
“Sir, his species ….”
“Doctor, do not presume to lecture me on his species. I've served with his kind before. They only need to hibernate during breeding season once every standard year or two, not four or five or more t
imes a year. That is beyond excessive. You didn't look into a medical reason as to why I take it?”
She frowned, clearly tempering her words carefully. “Sir, he is working with other members of his species in an attempt to rebuild their species population. He is also very good at his job,” she shot Horatio a look of appeal.
The admiral scowled, ready to bark at her to remind her to look at him not the captain. She was obviously searching for support, but the captain wasn't willing to give it. “Yes, when he is awake. Yes, I know that. He runs his people ragged, and they can barely keep up. Then he takes a nap, they play catch up, and then drift. Things pile up because they aren't being taken care of properly, so he then has to work through the backlog when he wakes. It is a viscous circle. He's not on top of the situation day-to-day; that much is obvious from a cursory look. There are a lot of holes in the ranks, dangerous ones.”
“Yes sir,” Commander Garretaj replied with a nod and grimace.
“Let me be clear here. I don't want people who don't want to be here,” the admiral said. “Anyone else have a problem with that? I warn you now, I run a tight command.”
The chief of staff checked his notes and found a lot of transfers to ships, the fortresses, and to other posts. “There are a lot of holes in the chain of command here, sir,” he murmured.
“Who is next in line?”
“Try …,” The chief of staff frowned.
Horatio cleared his throat. “If memory serves that would be First Lieutenant Irene Teague in intel and Lieutenant Commander Strongbirth in BUPERS, sir. Both have recently been promoted.”
“That is correct, sir,” Kamia, the other AI said. She had been rather quiet, which was surprising for a communication's AI. Apparently she spent a lot of time in the net.
“I'll make my own decisions, thank you,” the admiral said testily as the chief of staff looked up.
“He's right, sir,” the chief of staff stated, handing the admiral his tablet.
“Let me see that,” the admiral said, peering at the offending electronic device. His frown deepened as he read the brief synopses in their personnel jackets.
Admiral Subert was surprised when only a first lieutenant left to run intel and a newly promoted lieutenant commander were left in BUPERS. “What the hell are they doing? What have you been doing?”
“Bootstrapping the organization, sir. From the ground up it seems. And not doing it right,” Saul said with a slight sneer in his voice.
“I see that.”
“But they are doing the best they can making bricks without straw, sir.”
“I'll be the judge of that. So far I am not impressed,” the admiral said. “Now, we have some other changes to make. I have gone through them and drawn up a priority list for each department. Since we have to wait for intel and personnel to get sorted out, we can work on the changes with the pickets and training schedules,” the admiral said, eying Matilda. “And then go from there as time allows.”
“You have a dinner reservation with the governor in two and a half hours, sir. It will take time to shuttle over …,” Commander Garretaj warned. The admiral waved a hand.
“Be that as it may, we'll cover the high points now, bringing you up to speed. You each have a download copy of the orders in your inbox. I expect you to go over them and begin implementing them immediately upon receipt. Failure to comply will be met with stern measures. Is that understood?” he demanded.
The junior officers all nodded.
“Fine then. Let us begin.”
Chapter 6
Monty immediately put in for transfer through his implants as he walked to his office. He wasn't sure what was available. One thing, he wasn't going to take a demotion. He also didn't want to serve under Subert. He wasn't too keen about serving ship duty; he had no experience in such things at all. That was a problem. Were they going to put him on a base somewhere and have him play catch up? Teach classes in intelligence? He frowned thoughtfully. Those who could, did. Those who couldn't, taught, he thought with a dyspeptic scowl. He shook his head.
He got a ping through his implants, new mail. “Well, well …,” he frowned as he opened it. It was a quick form letter he realized as he read the file. They had received his request for transfer. He nodded.
Limbo he thought, he was in limbo waiting for the other shoe to drop. He numbly packed up his office, wondering where he was going to go. He'd had no warning, none at all that it had been coming. Nor any word on where he was supposed to go, most likely because the admiral hadn't wanted him to find out ahead of time. Some intel spook he turned out to be! He snorted at himself.
He delved into the thumbnail bios of the new sleepers. Saul Garretaj had little there, a staff weenie. The jig medic Taylor … he shook his head. A dozen officers and enlisted had come with the Admiral to Pyrax but only one really mattered. He turned his attention to Subert.
He should have done his homework beforehand. They'd gotten the bios of all the sleepers when the deployment orders had been cut. He had to some degree, but he'd been distracted with the flood of intelligence that the ansible had presented. Sorting it out … he shook his head. It was an excuse; he knew it.
He scanned the records and found out Admiral Phil Subert had a brief stint in intel as a lieutenant. He nodded. So he knew a bit about what he was saying. That took some of the sting out but rubbed a little salt in other wounds.
Who was going to take over from Harris? Teague was going to have her hands full with Intel … and BUPERS … he shook his head. Not his problem anymore. Not anymore he thought.
Finally Monty found out he had had been transferred to Agnosta and then to Antigua for reassignment since the local BUPERS was not sure about what to do with him. That bothered him. He didn't like the idea of being kicked around, spending months in transit only to get passed on to somewhere else like some sort of leper.
“What the hell do I do now?” he murmured. He shook his head and checked the departures. He had to hustle to get to his quarters, pack his gear, and then get to the tender heading back to Agnosta. The admiral's many orders had put the tender crew on a quick turnaround. That probably wasn't going over too well with those who had planned a leave with friends and family or bar mates, but oh well. He shook his head and headed for his quarters.
---<>---<>---
Commander Harris fumed as he returned to his ship. Damocles was all he had left now. He blamed Irons for this. For saddling him with … he shook his head. He knew the regs, knew technically Subert was in the right, but to be fired like that! So cold, and it would go on his record too! He'd done nothing wrong. He'd stepped up as duty required, and yet … he scowled blackly.
“Something wrong, sir?”
“Just life,” the commander said, shaking his head. He turned to the ensign. “What's on your mind, Sh'lna?” he asked.
“I was going over the latest tactical exercise. I'm having trouble with it though. I'm not sure what I'm doing wrong.”
“And you are coming to me about it?”
“Not in the way you mean, sir. I think we've been hacked,” the Veraxin said carefully.
“Hacked?” the commander asked, taking the tablet. His frown deepened as he checked the file. “Did you run this past an AI?”
“I don't trust them, sir. After Lemnos … the security AI didn't even know that Wraith was there!” The Veraxin signaled second level discomfort and disbelief. “How is that even possible? It is, was our most secure facility!”
“It was a very secure facility but not the most secure obviously,” the commander replied. “I don't know how much you were cleared, so I'm not going to go into details. Suffice to say it happened and we need to be ever watchful. But I'm not seeing a problem here.”
“Sir,” the Veraxin clacked and pointed to a time chop. A ship jinked from one place to another.
“It could be a bug. It could be a glitch in the simulator software … or yes, something else. Don't immediately jump into the last conclusion though—not without
more evidence to back you up.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And next time, run this by the XO and your own chain of command before you come straight to me with it,” the commander replied.
“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”
“I know. You are used to being a small ship command. But now you're not. Start acting like it, Sh'lna.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. You have the watch in an hour?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good then. Did engineering get that glitch sorted out with the boat bay door?”
“Not that I know of, sir. I haven't seen the log yet.”
“I'll go back there and check it out then. You've got an hour before you are on duty. I suggest you enjoy it, Ensign,” the commander said and turned away. He had a ship to run he thought as he moved off with renewed purpose.
---<>---<>---
After his dinner Admiral Subert nodded to Saul. The young man had stayed near in the restaurant just in case he was needed. It wasn't necessary; the admiral didn't need a babysitter. What he had needed was an escort; he hadn't known Governor Saladin had intended to bring his wife with him. At least, he thought it was the man's wife; it could have been his mistress for all he knew. He frowned thoughtfully and then made a mental note in his implants to have Saul do some discrete checking.
“Everything all right, Commander?” he asked.
“Yes, sir. Things are moving quickly now that you put everyone on notice.”
“Right. The days of idling and coasting are over. We're a fighting force, and it's high time they realized that. If they can't shape up, they damn well better ship out.”
Saul winced. “Commander Decius has resigned his commission,” Saul replied.
The rear admiral blinked at him in surprise. The commander nodded. “I thought he was in hibernation?” he asked suspiciously.
“He was near the end of the cycle. Doctor Thornby had him awakened to let him know about the changes.”
“Ah. I see. Dangerous ….”
“No, sir. As you pointed out, he didn't need to do so many hibernations.”