by Chris Hechtl
“Sir?”
“When I issue an order, I expect it to obeyed not questioned!” the admiral said tartly, still simmering. “So what if I jumped her chain of command. Tough. She'll probably sulk and pout for a few days. She'll get over it.”
Saul looked at him dubiously. “If you say so, sir.”
“And I do since I've got the gold star. Now, the yard is looking up. Once it's straightened out, I want to overhaul San Diego and the training facilities.”
“Yes sir,” the chief of staff replied with a nod. He hadn't anticipated the chaos the orders were going to unleash. The various departments were either dragging their heels or totally confused by his simple plans. He'd certainly explained it well enough for even a child to understand! He shook his head.
“Teague is handling intel, so we'll leave that alone for the moment. Has Commander Ch'n'x settled in at Ops?” The chief of staff nodded. “Good then. And Strongbirth is handling personnel. All the bases are covered.”
“Yes, sir. As best they can right now.” Saul wasn't so sure about BUPERS. He'd been so wrapped up in his own duties he hadn't gotten a good enough read into the department. He knew it was chaos though. Hopefully, the elf and the AI would get a handle on things soon.
They didn't have a lot of sleepers to go around. Four of the sleepers had been transferred to ship commands. Two more were slated for ship commands, and other than himself, Taylor, and the bug, the rest were engineers. That could be a problem he thought. A big problem if things got ugly enough.
“It'd better be or more heads will roll. I wasn't kidding when I said that before, and I mean it now too. I'll fire or demote anyone who can't handle the job. Period, dot,” he said. Saul winced. “They had better get with the program or get the hell out of dodge.”
“I think that message has been made, sir. But if we keep losing people we're going to have a lot of problems,” he warned.
“Then we'll deal with it.”
“Yes, sir.” Saul wasn't sure if the admiral was serious or if he understood just what he was starting. Or had started already he thought.
“Get your tablet and get ready to take some notes, Saul,” the admiral ordered. “Since today is Friday, I want to get this out of the way before Monday. That way they'll have it all on their desks ready to go. I have plans to visit the casinos on Anvil this weekend, so there better not be any more mix-ups or more heads will roll.”
“Yes, sir. Just a moment,” Saul said, ducking out to the outer office to get his tablet.
Chapter 9
Nara Thornby was so furious she stormed into her office and paced. She was ready to quit, and she hated that. She hated the idea; she wasn't a quitter. But what choice did she have? Resigning her commission would be messy. It would put a bit of heat on the navy; she knew that much. Decius's resignation was being handled by the public affairs and fortunately he wasn't making a big stink about it. He'd already been hired elsewhere and was moving on with his life.
She … she shook her head for a moment. She was about to think that she owed the navy to keep a low profile. Owed it to the admiral—her admiral, Admiral Irons. But he'd saddled her with … she shook her frustrated hands in front of her. “That Man!” she snarled.
“Bad day?” Horatio asked mildly. She turned to stare at him.
“Since when have you been here?” she demanded.
“I've been here. You failed to notice me,” he said, uncrossing his legs. “I heard you've been having an interesting day,” Horatio told her mildly.
“Yeah, you could say that,” she said, going over to her cabinet. She pulled out a bottle of whiskey. She detested drinking anything but wine and wouldn't do it on duty, but today had been a hell of a day. And she deserved a medicinal belt she reasoned.
“If you're pulling out the big guns, it really must be bad,” Horatio joked. She paused, then slowly set the glasses down. He snorted. “Go ahead, get it off your chest. Let's see if your version jives with the grapevine's,” Horatio stated as he took a glass from her.
She sat on the edge of her desk, poured them each a shot, and then took a hit of hers. She gasped as the raw lava burned down her throat. She took another belt, and then set the cap back on the bottle firmly.
“A double. You must have really been pissed,” Horatio observed dryly.
“Yeah, you could say that,” she said then chuckled. She laid it out to him—the little things, then the meeting with the Jig and the memo. Then her dealing with the aftermath and then going to call him on the carpet about it. She held up a hand to forestall him when he opened his mouth to object. “I was being polite. Pissed but I was trying to follow decorum.”
“And it didn't work,” he said.
“Pretty much. He snidely told me in not so many words to piss up a rope,” she snarled. “Get over it, and he can pass on orders however he likes to whoever he likes.”
“Ah,” Horatio said mildly.
After a long moment of contemplation, she kicked his shin. “Owe!” He rubbed his leg.
“Ah? That's all you have to say about it?”
“What can I say? You are in a very untenable situation. What are you going to do?”
“I can suck up and take orders from a kid barely out of diapers and from a man who knows nothing of medicine or running a hospital or …,” she shrugged, getting control of her impotent rage, “resign I guess.”
“Resign your commission?” Horatio asked softly. He didn't like that, didn't like it at all. Not only because of the stink it would cause but also because the navy would lose the services of an incredible doctor and teacher. One he appreciated greatly.
“It's been going around that some of us are going to be demoted. He doesn't feel we've earned the rank we've been given,” she said seething.
Horatio winced. He'd heard that rumor too. “Okay, well, I'm not going to touch that one. That's between you and what you think. But you have a couple of alternative choices you can fall back on too. You can always resign if they don't work.”
“Oh?” She arched an eyebrow his way as she crossed her arms. “Like what?” She asked coolly.
“You can write a protest letter and buck it up to Admiral Irons. I doubt it will get anywhere, but it will get his attention and piss him off.”
“Tempting,” she drawled. She knew it would make Subert a mortal enemy though. She shook her head after a long moment gaming the problem out. It wasn't worth the trouble, and she'd still end up in the same boat.
“If you threaten to quit, it won't do anything but undermine your position. You'd be ruined for command,” Horatio mused. He took another sip of his drink.
“That never came up with Monty. Look how often he did … oh.”
“Yeah,” Horatio said, glancing at her and then away. “That was with me. A whole new sheriff is in town, he'd gladly accept.” She winced. “You can put in for leave. You have a lot of time piled up I bet. You could put in for leave and go somewhere or dive into the civilian side. Back in I should say. See if living without the military side is worth it.”
“I did just fine before Admiral Irons toddled along,” she stated.
“Uh huh. I noticed you didn't mention me there.”
She sniffed. “I've known you since I've been in diapers. You don't qualify.”
He snorted. “You can't retire; you haven't been in service long enough. So, the last option is to transfer.”
“Transfer?”
“Transfer. Put in for a transfer.”
“Um ….”
“I understand you have an intense interest in the Resurrection project,” he told her, looking at her. He also knew she spent a lot of time dealing with medical issues in other star systems. He'd miss her, but perhaps this was for the best he thought. The best interests of the Federation he reminded himself.
“Here I was thinking you meant go play doctor on a starship,” she said and chuckled. She ran a hand through her hair and looked away, but then his eyes drew her back to his face. She stared at him
for a long moment gauging his intent. When she realized he wasn't kidding, she stared. “Are you serious? Horatio, my life is here! My work is here! I have patients, responsibilities ….” She waved her hands to indicate the station.
“It's something to think about. A big leap,” he said with a nod. “A major change. If you don't think you are up for the challenge …,” he shrugged.
She punched him in the shoulder. He laughed, rubbing at it. “Old man. You are so full of shit. You are setting me up. You know I teach psychology from time to time, right? Baiting me like that?”
“It was a thought,” he said, rubbing the shoulder. She shook her head.
“Think about it, Nara,” he said.
“I will,” she said, eyes going to his. “I'd miss you though,” she said softly.
“Life is about change. About growing up, moving, and making way for those who will come after us. I'll be moving along soon I suppose,” he said.
She raised an eyebrow. “Now?” She snorted at his expression. “Wouldn't he be pissed at that!” Suddenly she grinned. Ever since Enrique had died, Anvil had felt wrong somehow. Perhaps it was time for a change.
“Yeah, I know. And I know John would have kittens. No, I'll stick it out for now. But you can make a decision. A quick one and get on the transport leaving for Agnosta tonight or ride it out. If he sees the transfer later on, he might squash it. Then you will be stuck. And he can refuse your resignation too. But if you are out of the star system ….”
“Shit,” she sighed, running frustrated hands through her hair. “You're not giving me a lot of time about this.”
“Sorry. Your decision,” he said, hands up in supplication. “Whatever you decide.”
“I know. I'll think about it,” she said, voice rough with emotion. He eyed her for a long moment with his hand on the door knob. Finally he nodded again.
---<>---<>---
She got up the nerve and put in a transfer to Antigua to run the Resurrection project. A lieutenant on weekend duty in BUPERS agreed with the transfer out of spite to Admiral Subert and his machinations. He put the request through to BUPERS in Antigua, and they immediately approved of the transfer.
She was scared, but she packed her bags, said her goodbyes, and then hopped a flight to Agnosta before he got word of her departure. Since he was off duty for the weekend, it meant she had to hustle and do it quietly. So her departure from Anvil and the star system's medical establishment was rather abrupt. By the time Monday morning rolled around, her ship had gotten to the jump point and spooled her hyperdrive up for the jump. In minutes she and others with her were gone.
Word finally broke by KNOX news Monday morning. Their broadcasts were scathing of both her and Admiral Subert for driving her out of the star system.
---<>---<>---
Naturally when Admiral Subert heard about it Monday morning, he was furious. BUMED was rudderless, adrift, and asking for directions from his office. No one had stepped in to fill Thornby's shoes. He thought she was AWOL at first, but then found out about the transfer and its approval when Kalmia helpfully pulled the file and put it in his inbox for his viewing displeasure.
He immediately demanded to know why. “Get to the bottom of this! Who's responsible?! What the hell has been going on here? I take two days off and shit like this happens? I want the duty officer's ass for this!”
“I don't know, sir,” his chief of staff said, practically shaking.
“Then damn it! Find out! How did this happen right under our nose? Your nose? Why wasn't I notified! BUMED is a mess!” He threw his hands up in despair.
“Yes, sir.”
“Find out!”
“Yes, sir! Right away, sir!” the commander scrambled to obey.
Commander Garretaj called BUPERS. Without Decius in charge, Saul found it hard to navigate the floundering bureaucracy. Lieutenant Commander Strongbirth was off duty, on an extended leave of absence. Ensign Kalmia wasn't helpful; the communication's AI was overloaded and didn't respond to his inquiries about the chain of command. An ensign asked if he was calling about a transfer too.
“What do you mean?”
“We're getting swamped with them. Just about everyone wants out of the system or they are ready to quit,” she said.
“Shit.”
“Soo … I can forward you the forms ….”
“Let me talk to your superior officer. Now,” he stated.
“Yes, sir.”
He'd thought he'd had it memorized, but apparently a lot of people had gone on leave or put in for a transfer.
He found out the hard way about being shunted from one office to another, frequently on hold for long periods of time while the admiral got angrier and angrier. He was completely helpless too, and he hated it.
Excuses piled up. The remaining senior staff were in meetings or there were so many holes in their command structure that it was difficult to get anywhere. He was shunted from one office to another, sometimes waiting in vain for someone, anyone to pick up. Automated menu choices led him into spirals. Twice he had to disconnect and start over.
“Try the damned AI!” the admiral snarled, waving an imperious hand.
“Sir, he's off duty.” Saul reported desperately. Barry had gone off shift an hour ago and was reported to be off duty for the next forty-seven hours on virtual leave.
“Off duty? Off duty?” The admiral's eyes practically bugged out.
“He's an AI, sir. They are entitled to time off, sir. He is asleep I believe.”
“Then wake him!”
“I've tried, sir,” Saul said, practically shaking. “I'm … I put in a call to some of the other AI. They are now trying to help.”
That was a bit of a white lie. He scrambled to call Kalmia and the other AI in the area to lend him a hand. Kalmia texted him that all of her processors were busy with the overload of communications then cut the contact.
He acidly made a mental note to get an AI into BUPERS. ASAP he thought, making a note in his implants and underlining it. Definitely more than one he thought. Only a couple of the ship AI were available; the other AI were too far out of range to lend a hand.
“This is ridiculous!” the admiral snarled, beginning to pace.
He winced when he found out the acting department head officer Lieutenant Strongbirth was off duty and on extended leave. Her executive was out of range to speak with, and another officer in the chain of command was wrapped up in the tangled medical mess waiting on surgery. He would be out for at least a week in recovery.
Commander Garretaj tried to get Lieutenant Taylor to get a handle on BUMED while juggling calls and yeoman and other duties. The doctor ran into obstacles with the other medics; many outranked him. He was twice warned of being put on report.
The commander winced when the admiral intervened and told Lieutenant Taylor to jump the chain of command or demote those who stood in the way. That wasn't how things were done properly, and he knew it. He shook his head, but he was too frightened to say anything.
“Anyone who gives you any shit you tell them to come to me. You hear me, Roman?” the admiral snarled.
“Yes, sir,” Roman said, voice quavering a bit. Saul could hear the lack of conviction in the other man's voice. He glanced at the admiral, but the admiral wasn't interested in his opinion. He stomped back into his office.
He finally got the name of the lieutenant who had approved Doctor Thornby's transfer at the end of his shift. He put a call in, and the admiral took it. “Lieutenant, what in Murphy possessed you to approve of this? This … you do realize you are in some serious shit, right?” the admiral icily demanded. “What the hell did you think you were doing??”
“But, sir, she was long overdue for a transfer to another duty station. With her seniority her skills are needed desperately just about everywhere. She is also head of the Resurrection projects, and they were transferred to Antigua so it is natural for her to go there.”
“I see.”
“Fleet Admiral Irons' off
ice approved the transfer. I assumed you knew, sir.”
“Assumptions is the mother of all fuckups,” He fumed when he disconnected the line. He realized the fix had been in. Personnel had worked the system around him. He hated that. He hated knowing they had a reason too. He'd deliberately put people on their ears, but he hadn't expected a blow-back of this magnitude. He snorted. He hadn't taken the job to make friends. If he made some enemies, so what? He shook his head.
He rubbed his brow, not sure what to do about the situation. He decided to call Horatio in on it after a long moment of thought. The man might be undermining him subtly, or he could be turning a blind eye to it. He had to get to the bottom of the problem. If he had to, Horatio would have to go. He would have no other choice. Come hell or high water he had to get a firm grip on the star system and all its workings. He was in charge, not Horatio.
---<>---<>---
The rear admiral called Horatio in to his office to discuss the problem. He ranted a bit, blowing off steam over the situation. Horatio stood at attention and listened politely.
“She can't take the heat,” the admiral finally said, winding down.
“No, sir. She is used to pressure; she's been a doctor for seven decades. You put a jig in charge of a commander. You micromanaged her, questioning her every decision, and then having everything run through him. Jumping the chain of command, sir. That had to hurt.”
The admiral eyed him for a long moment. He wanted to bark at him, but his chief of staff had pointed that problem out to him twice in the past several days, so there might be a kernel of truth to it. Not that he was ready to admit it. “So, it's her pride? She couldn't handle it or come to me so she ran off like a petulant child because of her pride? He has a proper education and a ….”
“And she doesn't, sir? Before she was BUMED, sir, Doctor Thornby rose through the ranks on Anvil. She cared for over twenty thousand people there for decades before she signed on as a reservist here. She's actually been working full time with all three jobs: Anvil, managing the entire civilian medical establishment in this system and Agnosta, and running the navy side as well. On top of that, managing the Resurrection project, medical training, and coordinating updates to medical services and training in the other star systems. She has done an outstanding job, sir.”