The spacer paused, and the terrible scenario played out in Jacob’s mind. The fleet won’t bother coming and helping a single, unimportant station while things that big are happening. It’s okay, though. Not like we have to go anywhere any time soon. He tried to calm himself, to slow his breathing. “Anything else?”
“Yeah.” The hesitant pause set Jacob’s teeth on edge. What next? “There was a pirate ship hiding at the base we went to. The Ignoble Heretic, a corvette, but it was running disguised as a trading ship. They caught sight of us, and they might have picked up the distress call we put out.”
“You’re telling me Dianton might know that we’re here.” Jacob’s voice went flat. He couldn’t let his fear show in front of the others, and he was too stressed by the growing list of problems to let any emotions leak out now. “Any idea how long it will take him to come looking for us?”
“None.” The spacer’s voice was sober now, as if the energy fueling his panic had finally run dry. “It should take a while for the Ignoble to find him and get the message out, especially if they continue to poke around the Navy base first. It could be pretty soon, though.”
Jacob gritted his teeth, and then nodded. “Thanks for the information. Let the council members know, and tell them we’ll be calling soon to discuss our preparations. Wolfhound out.”
The signal light flickered out, and Jacob nodded absently in Al-shira’s direction. The bridge was deathly quiet for a few moments as they all replayed the details in their minds. Jacob quietly wished he had taken the call privately if only to try and control the flow of information, though it was simple hindsight. No use trying to contain it now. He shook his head and turned to Al-shira.
“Give me a few minutes, and then call the station council with what we know. In the meantime, notify the section officers that we are going to have a staff meeting in two hours to discuss our future plans.” He stood up, deactivating the command console as he did.
“Where will you be, sir?” Even Al-shira sounded subdued, her expression blank with concern.
“I’ll be looking over the information we have on Dianton’s fleet and seeing what we can do to stop him.” The few crew members on the bridge turned to look at him, a simple expression of surprise and hope echoed on each of their faces. “I’ll be back in a fifteen minutes. Until then, I need to think.” Jacob tried to ignore the whispers that broke out as he turned and left the bridge. This is going to be a long day indeed.
Two hours later, Jacob walked into the briefing room. A sudden hush spread across the gathered officers as he walked through the door, their whispers stilling as he approached the podium. Ashford was already seated in his chair at the front, his face grim. He met Jacob’s eyes and nodded slowly, for once not even attempting to express disdain or challenge. They had already discussed the changes Jacob was going to present before they had come to the meeting. Even though he doesn’t like them too much, he went along with them. Let’s see how the rest of them react.
Jacob took up his spot behind the podium and found everyone’s eyes locked on him, waiting for him to start. Navaja was still in Medical with Mensah staying behind to monitor him, but every other ensign, petty officer, and sergeant was present. He nodded and began what he knew was going to be a very long meeting.
“Thank you, everyone, for coming in on such short notice.” A murmur ran through the group, as if they were half amused by the bland start. Jacob ignored it and continued when the noise died down. “From the information we have received, Dianton is going to be here sometime soon with the majority of his fleet. The Celostian Navy is currently occupied with a campaign against the Odurans, and they won’t be able to take the time to help us out until it’s over.”
He touched a control on the podium, and a hologram sprung up between him and the rest of the officers. “These are the current warships we have available. The Rand’s Ire, the Ravager and the Wolfhound, along with half a dozen small boarding skiffs. The Cruel Hand, as well as the two carriers, are beyond repair.” Small wireframe representations of each ship appeared, the three dimensional figures rotating to give a better perspective of each craft.
He touched another control, and a second, larger set of images sprung to life beside those already present. “This is the enemy fleet of Dianton’s pirate clan. We gained this information using the repair logs from Reefhome Station, since nearly every vessel in Dianton’s fleet has been there for repairs over the past few years. From our best information, there is one destroyer, six frigates, and seven corvettes available to him. There are also three frigate-sized carriers that act as bases for boarding skiffs and five transports meant for larger boarding actions.” Each element of the fleet flashed as he mentioned them, drawing the officers' eyes to them. The images themselves were daunting as they floated, red wireframes slowly spinning in the air. Jacob suppressed a shiver before he went on.
“Our disadvantages don’t only lie in numbers, however. The ships we have are badly damaged, and we barely have the crew available to fight with the Wolfhound effectively, let alone the other ships we captured. We cannot evacuate the station, as it would exceed our current transport capabilities, as well as forcing us to scuttle the Wolfhound since we could not take her with us.” The idea of self-destructing the destroyer made him grimace in pain and disgust. He was relieved to see similar expressions flashed across several of the other officers' faces.
“Since we can’t run, we still need to fight, even with our handicaps. Luckily, we do have one major resource that the pirates do not.” A third image outlined in blue rose to join the others when he touched the controls again. “Reefhome Station.”
A puzzled look appeared on many of the crew members’ faces, and Jacob took a deep breath before continuing. “Reefhome has many repair facilities we are now going to take advantage of. When the pirates get here, I want to be able to face them with ships that can fight rather than ships half-chewed by railgun fire.” Several officers nodded while others remained motionless, their faces grim; they obviously disliked the necessity of letting spacers work on the Wolfhound. Turley looked especially unhappy, but there was nothing for it, and they all saw it. Jacob knew, however, he still hadn’t hit the worst barrier of objections he would face.
“The other thing that Reefhome is going to provide is manpower. We are going to fill the holes in our ranks using fresh recruits from the station and hopefully get the crews we need for the Ravager and the Ire from there.”
Outrage and shock went through the officers, and Jacob stopped as a wave of half-shouted protests began.
Taylor was one of those whose voice sounded clearest. “Sir, there’s no way we’ll be able to train new crews in time. They’re just a bunch of civilians. Putting them onboard means we are going to get them killed, and might hurt more than help.”
Jacob shook his head as the shouting died. “I know many of you have reservations about the spacers being taken on, but the reality is that we don’t have any choice.” The firmness of his words cut through the protests, and the officers fell silent again as he gestured to the pirate fleet. He leaned forward. “We have enough of a crew to maybe, maybe, put the Wolfhound in fighting shape. There is no way we can manage to crew the other two ships ourselves, and if our odds are slim facing that fleet with a handful of ships, they are nothing with only one destroyer.” He leaned back again, his back straightening. “You may not like it, and believe me, the station council doesn’t either, but it's what we are going to do.”
He let those words hang in midair, allowing them to sink in before he continued, his voice less harsh now that the objections had been raised and answered. The faces of the officers ranged from sullen and resentful to cautiously accepting. Jacob continued his explanation. “As you all have said, the spacers don’t know how to crew a fighting ship, and as such, they are going to need our leadership and training. Because of that, our current assignments and responsibilities are going to be shifted to compensate.”
“First, the squadron
of boarding skiffs is going to be under the command of Ensign Iriel, who will be using our skiff as the lead ship.” The Skiff ensign jumped in surprise, her face incredulous. Jacob smiled in her direction. “The maneuvers you pulled during the last battle convinced us that you would be the best leader for that group. You should have an advantage in that most of the spacers will have experience flying smaller craft, but I’m sure that you will have plenty to teach them. Consider this both your punishment and reward rolled into one.”
“Yes, sir.” Recovering rather quickly from her surprise, Iriel smiled brightly. “We’ll see how they fly.”
Jacob nodded and moved on. “The next change will be a bit closer to home. Sergeant Ashford will be taking command of the Rand’s Ire, and some of the petty officers and crewmen will be transferring over to the frigate with him. Ensign Al-shira will be taking over Ashford's old position as Executive Officer.”
Ashford nodded, his face still so grim it could have been carved from a tombstone. Al-shira, on the other hand, looked almost as surprised as Iriel had, her jaw dropping. Jacob glanced at Ashford, hoping to keep her from catching any hint of amusement on his face. “You’ll need to change the name of course, Ashford.”
“Of course I will. You let me worry about that.” Ashford scowled back at him, and Jacob smiled in return. He turned back to face the rest of the room.
“Ensign Taylor.”
The Gunnery officer blinked and rose hesitantly. “You have consistently shown excellent leadership skills among the gun crews of the Wolfhound, having helped us survive in the past few weeks as well as any officer in the fleet. For that reason, Isaac will be taking over your position as you take command of the Ravager.” Jacob paused as Taylor’s jaw dropped. He coughed lightly before continuing. “You’ll need to change the name for that ship too, of course.”
Taylor’s eyes flicked over to where Ashford sat, then came back to Jacob’s face so quickly that Jacob almost thought he had imagined it. Taylor nearly quivered with the effort of not looking at the Marine. “Sir, I believe Sergeant Ashford would do much better with that command. It was Marines who took the ship after all, sir.”
Jacob paused, then let a smile grow across his face. “It was the Marines who took her, Taylor, but Sergeant Ashford agrees with me that you will be the better officer for the frigate.” He half turned to where Ashford sat. “Would you care to explain, Sergeant?”
“Yes, sir.” The Marine’s voice delivered the ‘sir’ without reservation or surprise now, and he rose to approach Taylor. When Ashford stood in front of him, he stared into Taylor’s eyes for a pair of heartbeats before he spoke. “You know what you’re doing with a ship that size, and you're going to keep more of us alive than I would. We all know that I don’t know how to run a fighting ship; he only gave me the corvette because I have some experience with smaller craft. The Ravager’s beyond me; take her, and do your best.”
For a long moment, Taylor returned Ashford's stare, then a smile broke out over his face and he nodded. The two men shook hands and each returned to their seats. Isaac, more solemn than usual, watched the whole scene with a definite hint of glumness. Sorry, Isaac. We all have to grow up sometime.
With another short nod, Jacob continued. “These changes are going to mean we're all going to be very busy. The wounded will be off-loaded onto the station as soon as we can, as well as all of the prisoners. Sergeant Chiun, given your success in the recent boarding action, you will be in charge of training up any station volunteers for similar types of combat, as well as helping provide security for the prisoners and the station.” Chiun nodded, her face still glowing from the satisfaction she’d worn since her victory.
“There will be other transfers as we try to move our experienced crew members around to train the new recruits, and we will notify you of them as we can. Try to stay focused on our objectives, and we will come through this. Ashford, Taylor, Iriel, please stay after so we can find a time to go to the station and discuss strategy with the council. The rest of you are free to go and make the preparations that you need to.” He stopped and looked around. “Are there any questions?”
No hands were raised, and Jacob wondered if that was a good sign or a bad one. No sense in making up concerns. “You are dismissed, then.”
The meeting broke up with a murmur of conversation as the ensigns and petty officers filed out of the room. Soon Jacob was left with only the three he had named, with one notably angry addition.
Al-shira did not look at all as if she had just received a promotion. “Ensign Hull, what are you trying to do here?”
Jacob looked at her in surprise, then back to the other three, whose expressions were all suddenly very neutral. “I thought I explained everything very clearly, Al-shira. What do you mean?”
“I can’t be the Executive Officer!”
“Why not?” The question seemed to surprise her, and her expression grew angrier, if that was possible.
“Because I’m just an ensign! I don’t know anything about disciplinary actions or providing leadership, or anything!”
“That never stopped Ashford.” Taylor chuckled at Jacob’s response, and the sergeant grunted sourly. Jacob sighed. “Or me either. You’ll do fine.” He glanced at the others. “If you like, we can discuss this later.”
Al-shira shut her mouth so tightly that her teeth clicked. She spun on her heel and marched away, her fists clenched and swinging at her sides. Jacob turned back to find the others looking at him, amused expressions on their faces. “Well, let’s get started.” He looked back at the hologram floating in the air of the briefing room. Time to get down to business.
Chapter Twenty
By the time Jacob reached the hangar on Reefhome Station, he had been planning for another three hours. He was relieved when he stepped out of the hatch and found Miguel waiting for him. He waved tiredly and walked over to shake the spacer’s hand. “Thanks for your help here. It made dealing with the station council much, much easier.”
Miguel rolled his eyes. “You’re more than welcome. I have no desire to go back to working for Dianton, you can be sure of that.”
Jacob nodded in sympathy and followed Miguel down a nearby corridor. “Are there a decent number of recruits ready?”
“Yeah, we have plenty of people ready to sign up. A table is already all set up for you to start talking with them, and we should be able to start shipping them out to you soon.” Miguel paused. “I have been getting questions about age requirements, though. How old and how young are the cutoffs?”
There was a suspicious note in Miguel’s voice. Jacob frowned. He suspected he knew exactly which retired spacer was planning on joining the Navy, and he wondered how the council would react to one of their own joining the ranks. “We’ll take anyone who you think can do the job they are applying for. Use your best judgment, but we’re not exactly in a careful mood right now.”
Miguel nodded, a suddenly cheerful smile on his face. “Of course, Jacob. I’ll pass the word along.”
The amount of satisfaction in his voice fed into Jacob’s suspicion, but he shook his head and put it aside for the moment. I have too much to do to be worrying about things like that. “Do you have any advice on which bids for repairs we should accept? I don’t know who's reliable.”
The spacer fell silent for a moment. “You know that question would normally be a can of worms for me. I would make enemies and lose friends no matter what I would say.”
Jacob shrugged. “‘Normally’ hasn’t applied for me in quite a while. What can you tell me?”
Miguel sighed heavily. “All of them should be more than willing to treat you fairly, but the work crews led by Harold should be the best for most of the more complicated stuff.”
“Why?”
With a small grin, Miguel motioned back toward the group of waiting recruits. “Because two of his sons are waiting right over there.”
Jacob’s eyebrows went up, and then he chuckled. “Well said. I’ll have to give the
work crews the okay. How are the pirates doing?”
Miguel’s smile became almost predatory. “They are still behaving, but I think some of them are getting a bit despondent. We’ll need to do something with them soon, or they’ll start causing problems.”
“Chiun should have some ideas.” Jacob shook his head. “Thanks for your help, Miguel.”
“No problem. Could I ask you a favor in return?”
Surprised, Jacob looked at Miguel for a moment, trying to gauge his mood. The spacer’s expression was so innocent that Jacob nearly started laughing.
“Sure, what could I help you with?”
Miguel’s smile was full of mischievous intentions. “I have this old spacer on the station who is always getting himself into trouble, bothering the other members of the council, that sort of thing.” The spacer’s smile grew broader. “Would you be able to take him on? Just to get rid of him, of course.”
Jacob had little doubt as to which member of the council Miguel was referring to. “I would love to. In fact, I think Ashford is looking for a reliable person for his executive officer…”
“I think that will do nicely.” Miguel turned off into a nearby corridor and waved farewell to Jacob. “I’ll see you later, then. Have to pack my things, of course.”
Jacob waved back. “I’ll see you later, Miguel.” He watched until the spacer turned a corner, and then turned back to the recruiting table. Two Marines waited on either side of the table with railguns held across their chests. They nodded to him as he approached, and then retrained their gaze on the crowd lined up in front of the table. A few crewmen from the Support section were there as well, having set up readers at a desk nearby to help with the process.
The variety of people waiting surprised Jacob. It seemed as if everyone in the station had turned up, at the very least to watch the proceedings if not to join up themselves. Jacob took in the expressions of eagerness on many of the faces waiting impatiently in the line and sighed. How long ago was it that I had that expression? He knew it had to have only been a matter of months, but somehow it felt much, much longer. He shook his head to ward off the feelings of fatigue. Then he walked over to the table and sat down. A stack of slim, paper-like readers was on the table in front of him, and he picked one up. The screen showed the standard questions and checklist. It also included spaces for the recruits to sign their understanding of the agreement.
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