by Chris Hechtl
John wanted to set up a second parallel line for his Shield Maiden class fleet defense destroyers next. Sindri didn't really see the point. After all, they had the Flight VI Nelsons for that role, right? And it wasn't like they had a lot of fleets to defend currently! He shook his head. But what the admiral wanted he got. He'd just have to figure it out once Wong finished the last checks of the reactor design.
No, what he wanted to work on was the plan for the first super dreadnaught. They were skipping right over battleships and dreadnaughts and going for the big boys. Pyrax could build battle cruisers, he rubbed his hands together gleefully. He wanted to play with the big boy's toys.
The first was to be called Quirinus from the Roman god of war. But first they had to get there though, which meant not only building the infrastructure but building enough hulls to protect the star systems until they could get around to making capital ships and protecting the personnel that were needed to man them. Sindri sighed in frustration. Okay, so, Irons and the others had a point he thought with a pang. It just meant he'd have to bank his anticipation for later. That didn't mean he couldn't still dream and drool. And oh, maybe slip a few extra resources to the project from time to time. He was pretty sure Irons wouldn't mind.
Chapter 8
The next morning Admiral Subert revised the building schedule heavily. He practically ripped up the current schedule and made it a priority to step up construction of current projects near completion to clear the slips for the new priorities.
Their focus would shift to fighters, ship components, and larger ships since Admiral Irons had the smaller ship production lines running smoothly in Antigua. The largest ships they were to build were carriers and battle cruisers. The shift in the yard's priorities caused additional waves of confusion and mix-ups in communications in the management teams, which filtered down to the yard workers.
Some didn't get the memo of the changes or ignored it. Admiral Subert jumped all over the managers for not getting the word out. Since he jumped the chain of command and stepped over Horatio to micromanage the situation, many of the deputies were angry. A few kicked their heels despite the admiral's fit, doing a deliberate slow down out of spite. Horatio noted the foot dragging and did his best to quietly get his people back on track.
That evening Admiral Subert called Horatio in for a face-to-face meeting. Horatio wasn't thrilled about leaving the yard and commuting to the naval annex, but he had no choice. He did his best not to seethe during the journey; it would be picked up by his fellow passengers. Instead he calmly worked on catching up on paperwork while attempting to fix the problems people were bringing up to him through his implants.
When he got to the naval annex, the chief of staff silently let him into the office. Saul left the door open since they were still moving things into the office. He had a couple Yeoman working with him on the project.
Horatio noted the changes in the décor with polite disinterest as the admiral left him to cool his heels standing at attention. Admiral Subert directed Yeoman Burkov to find some sticky patches to hang additional photos. The Yeoman scrambled to obey.
The admiral turned and went to his desk. He picked up a tablet and read it for a while, still ignoring the captain. Horatio took the implied insult in stride.
Finally the admiral's temper boiled over. He tossed the tablet he had been reading onto the desk and read him the riot act. Horatio admitted there was a problem. “You're damn right there is a problem!” Admiral Subert snarled. “In your department. Fix it! Or you're out of here. Out of here, out of the navy!”
Since the doorway behind him had been left open, a passing yeoman Burkov overheard the scolding. It hit the navy grapevine like a bomb.
---<>---<>---
He took the dressing down better than expected. Many thought Horatio would resign, but he was perfectly calm about it. “We heard you had an interesting conversation,” Kalmia stated when he started his morning meeting with the yard deputies.
“You of all people should have heard since it was, is your profession,” Horatio stated.
“It's not right,” Lieutenant Ul'pip clacked.
“That's enough. It was expected,” the captain stated. “Kalmia, can you ….”
“I know when I'm not wanted,” the AI stated. She blipped out with a sniff of disdain.
He surveyed his yard deputies. Which one would end up in his shoes? Hopefully all of them someday, but he was pretty sure none of them were ready for the job. Not now. And who would want it? “I've had my share of chewing outs over the years. I know how to handle it. You need to understand, shit like this rolls downhill. Expect it. If you don't want to hear any more of it from me, do something about it, preferably before it becomes a problem. Remind our people the enemy is out there, and we need to work together,” he reminded them.
“Someone needs to tell him that.”
“As you were,” Horatio said coldly. “If you don't like how things are being run, put in for a transfer or resign. I will relieve you if you are insubordinate again.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
“Then let's get back to work.”
“Sir, what do we do with the ships that are less than 10 percent complete? And the slips themselves?”
“You read the memo. Any escort ship not more than 50 percent is to be towed out of the slips and stored in mothballs once more. We'll break them up on a case-by-case basis and ship them to Antigua. As far as the slips themselves …,” he shrugged, “for now they will go idle. We'll retool the orbital works in them to produce parts for the other ships. The personnel will be transferred and retrained for other duties.”
“And the Nelsons, sir?”
Horatio frowned. There was a full squadron of Nelsons in mothballs and another full squadron in various stages of production. Admiral Irons hadn't said anything about them initially, but Admiral Subert brought with him orders to cut their production in favor of Arboth class destroyers and escort carrier designs like Kittyhawk and the Arboth carrier variant.
“Again, anything below 50 percent we're mothballing. The others we'll tow and set aside and work on them when we have the free time.”
“And all the parts we've built for them, sir?”
“They'll either be retooled for other ships or stockpiled for the ships we currently have in use,” Horatio replied. He shrugged. “That's logistics’ problem not ours. Focus on the build schedules.”
“So, we're going to build … scout cruisers?”
“We have one battle cruiser in the pipeline. Admiral Subert wants us to have a full squadron in production by the end of the week.”
“The man doesn't ask for much, does he?” Lieutenant Ul'pip clacked sarcastically. “All the scout, medium, and heavy cruisers too?” He signaled second level disbelief.
“Get used to not sleeping at night.”
“Sir, back up a bit. What about the destroyer line?” Ensign Openhiem asked carefully.
“We're retooling them for Arboth class destroyers for the moment. When the Shield Maiden design is approved of, we'll probably be tasked with building them too. It's in the memo.”
“Sir, the memos are gigs long. That's a lot of information to pick through,” the ensign replied with a shake of his head.
“I know, which is why we have meetings like this. I expect you to check the bullet points here and in the memos. Don't get caught not being up-to-date on the memos; it could bite you in the ass. We're going to be making a lot of changes, so adapt. Adapt quickly,” he stated.
---<>---<>---
Since he had a free moment, Saul did his best to find candidates for the admiral's steward. But some didn't want the job after hearing about how difficult the man was, and others weren't suitable to the admiral's tastes. “It can't be that hard to find someone,” he said shaking his head. He blushed slightly when he realized he'd spoken out loud in the presence of the captain.
“Something wrong?” Horatio asked. He'd been ordered back to the office for an update on the
yard, but the Admiral had left on another meeting. He was waiting patiently since Saul wasn't certain if the Admiral wanted him when he came back or not. The admiral had gone to lunch and had turned his message service to record, which meant he couldn't just ask the man. He could track him down, but the implied message in turning on his automated voice mail meant he didn't want to be disturbed.
It was annoying that the Admiral wanted face-to-face meetings. The man loved to wax poetic in long memos but he couldn't read a status update? Horatio realized he was grousing about his superior … even if it was mentally so he tried to refocus.
“I'm trying to find the admiral a steward,” Saul finally reluctantly admitted. He squirmed, expecting a snide put-down, but the captain just cocked his head.
After a moment the captain nodded wisely. “Sometimes it takes time,” Horatio told him. “I remember flag officers have a certain way of doing things. Some went through yeomen like grapeshot,” he said with a grin. “A steward's job is tough. Their principle needs to know that someone has their back. That the person can handle the stress and be flexible. But it is a dedicated selfless position; one that can consume a person.” He shook his head. “Keeping an officer on task and on schedule is tricky. And I admit, some also need a stern hand and a keeper.” he said wryly.
The chief of staff frowned but nodded.
“Keep at it. You'll find someone eventually, even if you have to steal them from someone else,” Horatio said with a simple nod as he left. That got the chief of staff wondering who the captain had as his own steward. He did a quick check but couldn't find anyone on the roster. Then again he was still having trouble with BUPERS. He didn't want to overtly ask about it and make waves, so he let the matter drop.
---<>---<>---
Doctor Thornby noted Lieutenant Taylor with the admiral. The admiral patted the jig on the shoulder and then went on his way.
“What was that about?” she asked, nodding her chin to the admiral. The jig turned to watch the flag officer wind his way past the nursing station and then out of the medical complex. He had a vague disinterested look on his face.
“Ahem, Lieutenant,” Nara said, starting to get annoyed.
When she touched the lieutenant, he finally reacted. First he blinked, then he looked at her in brief confusion. “Oh, sorry, I was checking my email.”
“What was that about?”
“What was what about?” the lieutenant asked, sounding distracted.
“What was the visit with the admiral about?” Nara ground out just as her inbox pinged. She frowned and opened it as she stared at the lieutenant. She found a memo in it from the junior officer addressed to her command.
“What is …,” she noticed orderlies and nurses looking up. They frowned and then started to look at her.
“Young man, come with me,” she said, taking the lieutenant by the arm. She hustled him past the other medics and into her office.
“Do you want to start telling me what the hell is going on? Since when do you issue commands to my people?” she demanded. “Last time I checked, I am the commanding officer of this department,” she said, tapping her finger against her arm meaningfully.
“Um ….”
“I'm waiting,” Nara stated, crossing her arms and tapping a toe. When her door opened and a nurse leaned in, her eyes cut over the lieutenant's shoulder to the nurse. “Not. Now,” she growled. The nurse gulped and retreated.
The bark in her tone got to him. Lieutenant Taylor straightened instinctively. “Um, the admiral wanted to discuss some changes. I'm sorry. Some of it I can't discuss, Doctor, patient privilege,” he stated.
“And yet, you felt it was necessary to broadcast it in a memo to every doctor, orderly, nurse, and medical technician in the star system?” Nara asked, voice rising slightly. She paused, got control of herself, and then looked at him down her nose like he was some sort of thing she wanted to squish.
“I was just doing as I was told …,” he said, shoulders hunching.
“And you didn't think to remind the admiral that he was jumping your chain of command? That I am your superior officer, and he needed to clear things with me before he passed on orders like that?” she demanded.
“Um ….”
“Well?” She did her best not to wince when her inbox and text chat got inundated by requests for clarification. She hadn't gotten past the header on the memo.
The lieutenant straightened once more and tucked his hands behind him. “Ma'am, a superior officer passed on an order and told me to execute it immediately. I acted on it, ma'am. I did what was right. But on further consideration I should have called you before passing it on to everyone.”
“Right,” she drawled. “Keep going,” she said expectantly. “I'm glad you've finally remembered a few points about military protocol, Lieutenant,” she stressed.
He winced internally. The doctor had been pretty freewheeling with protocol when he'd first arrived, going by doctor for professional courtesy. But now he was being brought up by his short hairs, and it wasn't pleasant. “I … won't do it again, ma'am?” he said weakly. He knew he'd screwed up.
Nara nodded, her scowl not breaking. “Good. Now I have to see whatever you just sent and deal with the list of questions people are forwarding me. You realize you just threw our entire department into chaos, right?”
“Sorry, ma'am,” the jig replied, now thoroughly subdued.
“Sorry he says,” she sighed, running a frustrated hand through her hair. “Forward all requests to me. Don't ever, ever,” she held up a warning finger to him, “jump my chain of command again. You are the new kid on the block. Don't ever forget it.”
“But, ma'am, I did my residency at John's Hopkins Station 4 and …,” he cut the spiel about his resume off when he saw her set expression. “Sorry, ma'am.”
“Right. For the record, nice job graduating. But I'm in charge here—not you. Get that through your thick head.”
“But, ma'am, what if he does that again?”
“Then you ever so politely tell him that he needs to speak with me about it, then move on. If he gets insistent, call me.”
“Yes, ma'am,” the jig replied.
“I know you got excited or whatever. We'll chalk this up to zealous disregard for protocol. Go attend to your duties while I clean up this mess,” she snarled, flopping into her chair.
“Yes, ma'am. Sorry again, ma'am.”
“Get out of here,” she said, resting her elbows on the desk. When he left she dropped her head into her hands. “Puppy. What am I going to do now,” she sighed. She took a deep breath and then let it out. She closed her eyes for a long moment but that only brought her implant HUD up. She couldn't escape the mess.
“Lovely,” she sighed, buckling down and getting to work. The first thing she needed to do was to read the new orders and figure it out. Then she could draft a response.
---<>---<>---
“Admiral Subert, a moment of your time?” the doctor demanded, sailing past Saul and into the admiral's office. “This won't take but a moment,” she told Saul as she closed the door behind her before he could object further.
Nara had spent all day dealing with the mess. She was thoroughly fed up and ready to wring some necks starting with the stiff jackass sitting behind the desk in front of her. Admiral or not she fully intended to read him the riot act.
“What is this, Commander?” the admiral asked, looking up from the report he was reading. The yard was finally starting to get cleaned up. It would probably be a few shifts, possibly a week before things got back to where he expected them to be though. The Veraxin commander had Ops under control and had even worked on some new drills for the bored pickets to perform. Everyone had to adjust and all that. He set the tablet down he had been reading.
“We have a problem,” she said. “Or should I say, you and I. Well, everyone right now since you are so busy kicking over anthills,” she stated. “Including mine now, it seems.”
“Doctor, I will endeavo
r to give you the respect of your rank and profession. But watch it,” the admiral said voice cooling as he looked at her pointedly. “I don't understand why Captain Logan put up with what he did. He tolerated a lot. I am not going to tolerate it. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir. Sir, I am the senior medical officer in charge of the star system's medical establishment, both civilian and military. As your G-9, all orders to medical staff are to come through me as the chain of command dictates, sir.”
“And you are a little put out because I jumped the chain of command?” the admiral asked, sitting back. “Got your dander all up, is it?”
“Sir, I know you and Lieutenant Taylor have a history, but he is my subordinate now.” she clenched her fists in her jacket then straightened them a few times.
“You'd be well to learn from him, Doctor,” the admiral stated, cutting her civil tirade off. “He has quite a resume, which is what landed him in Lemnos to begin with. All present day doctors should strive to follow his example,” he said as she fumed.
“Now, I realize you don't like how I did it. I run things my way. Get used to it or leave, your choice,” the admiral stated as he picked up his tablet once more. She realized he was brushing her off. “Dismissed, Commander,” he said, looking back at the tablet.
Nara stared at him for one fulminating moment. Angry retorts danced in her mind and on the tip of her tongue but prudence made her keep them in. She was so angry over the changes and interference she stormed off. She brushed past Commander Garretaj in a huff and kept going.
A yeoman looked up, looked back the way she came and then ducked when the commander shot her a get-back-to-work look.
---<>---<>---
“Sir? What was that about if I may ask,” Saul asked cautiously as he entered the office a few minutes later.
“The good doctor didn't like something and wanted to call me on the carpet about it,” the admiral replied mildly. He snorted. “The very idea!” He shook his head. “She should have known better.” He tossed the tablet he'd been reading on his desk.