“But won’t Coni Berger object? I know she isn’t my greatest fan. Seems to me I heard Robi Zane was her personal favorite boy-toy. And then Captain Fraze always seems to be within her arm’s reach.”
“You leave Berger to me. She’s connected, but not in the way you think. Her foot-dragging on some of the key decisions around here lately has not gone unnoticed. If it weren’t for her war record, she’d be kicked down, not up. You should worry more about Pax Curton.”
“I don’t know about Pax, I mean, he could charm the clothes off a woman in a freaking painting. I notice he just left your counsel, sir. Did you just give him the same pitch?”
Paine leaned forward onto his elbows. “See, that’s what I like about you, Uriel. No fucking around, right to the point. Hell, yes, I pitched him. Not as strongly as I’m pitching you, but strong enough. My niece Niki had some pretty enlightening things to say about the esteemed hot-dog captain of the Pearl Harbor and she’s one of the sharpest knives in the drawer. She thinks he’s going to muster out soon and try to launch some kind of career in the entertainment industry. Go off to Canno and try to become a movie star or some shit. At least that’s the impression she got. And you can forget about that functionally illiterate Zane. Why, he couldn’t navigate his way out of a bathtub without a super computer.”
Niki, Niki. Niki Mols? Of course. Hadn’t Pax Curton mentioned something about ferrying the admiral’s niece back to Elber? Lieutenant Mols had performed magnificently under fire on the Christi and Haad himself owed her a debt of gratitude.
“How is your niece, sir?”
He answered with an avuncular smile. “She’s doing great. She’s getting her own shop up on eight. Intelligence Service Department stuff. She’s going to start a listening post campaign on both sides of Elber and try to identify some of these threats before they become threats. Hush-hush stuff that’s right up her alley. Niki’s going to be promoted to lieutenant commander during the next cycle and she’s pretty proud of that.”
Haad nodded. She was certainly on the fast track, having been recently promoted to lieutenant while on the Pearl Harbor. Something else was coming, he was sure of it. He decided to press a little. “So, you say that I’m going to lose the Christi. Care to elaborate?”
“If the choice was yours and you had to give her up, who would you recommend?”
Without hesitation he answered, “Commander Davi Yorn. My XO. I think he’s put the Mobile Bay behind him and is ready for a command of his own.”
“Done.”
What was this? Was he missing something? “So, until this other plan of yours kicks in, what do I do?”
Paine stood and walked to the front of his desk. “I’m giving you one of our new destroyers, Uri. The Hudson River will come out of the shops in two weeks. Let’s give her one week for burn out, another week of space trials and she’s all yours. All 635,000 metric tons. After a brief stint in the Fringes, you’ll return her to the Loop.”
Haad was thunderstruck. A destroyer of his own! Bigger ship, more firepower, bigger crew. “And do I get to crew her, sir?”
“Hand pick them. You’ll have time. I’ve cut orders for you and Yorn and a few members of your old crew to catch a courier boat out to Bayliss and serve as inspiration to our next graduating class of seniors. Give a lecture or two, shake a lot of young hands. Our future line officers will be among that bunch and I want them to see two of the best. You game for that? You can’t say no, the orders are already cut, awaiting my signature. I have taken over most of Standi’s duties already.”
“Well, sure, sir, I’m in and I know Davi, Commander Yorn, wouldn’t mind a couple of weeks on Bayliss. But what am I to do about the other thing? Is this going to be some kind of competition between Fuller, Curton and myself?”
“Competition in appearances only, son. My mind is made up and, by God, I pretty much always get my way around here, if you haven’t noticed. I can belay any objections from Coni Berger. I’ll be her boss before the decision is made and I’ll use my considerable influence to get it done. Uriel,” the admiral said, looking Haad straight in the eye with his penetrating stare, “you are a dynamic and forceful senior officer. One who is not afraid to look the opposition in the face and tell them to ‘Fuck Off’ or whatever it was that you said out there. I want my senior officers to be fearless yet compassionate for their men and women. You displayed both on your last voyage. Look, son, we’re a lot alike and I can see we’re both cut from the same cloth. Stick with me on this and in six months you’ll be sitting on the command deck of a battle cruiser with a staff of thousands at your beck and call. All it takes is for you to do your job on the Hudson for a few months and I can pin on your first star.”
Haad stood. “Aye, aye, sir. I read you loud and clear. Do I have your permission to tell my XO? About the Christi and his first command?”
Rear Admiral Vinny Paine cracked a thin smile. “Sure, captain. Sure. In one aspect, it’s a shame to break up such a loyal crew. In the long run, it makes sense, though. In the long run.”
Paine offered Haad his hand. “Now go get some rest. As soon as I sign your orders I’ll have them delivered to you at the BOQ.”
“Thank you, sir. I will not let you down.”
Captain Uri Haad, soon to be Admiral Haad turned smartly on his heels and headed for the door.
After the captain had been gone for a few minutes, a side door opened and Lieutenant Niki Mols stuck her head into the room. Her uncle waved her all the way in.
“Well, Niki, what do you think?” he wanted to know.
“Very sincere. I’ll have the biometric test results in a few hours, but, in my opinion, you picked the right man.”
He grunted and returned to his desk. “I hope you’re right,” he said to the air.
Chapter 15
The day ended on a high note for Har. Not only did he get a few really nice outfits to wear during his leisure time at school but he also got a brand-new swipe card with his name on it. His mother had launched his new account with a whopping 200 credits, more money than he could even imagine needing on Bayliss.
They were winding down the busy day of shopping at a food court in one of the many shopping arcades located near the Navy Base. Har was finishing up his second hot dog when his mother asked him, “You going to balloon up on military food when you get to school? I remember my first three months in the service, I put on twenty pounds. It was mostly muscle, though.”
He sucked the last of his drink through his collapsed straw and made a flapping sound as he tried for every last drop. “Heck no, Mom, I’m still trying to recover some weight lost by eating rabbit food for three years. All of that cereal and stuff? If they feed me that crap on Bayliss I’ll probably have some pretty good reasons for a massive law suit. Sue the Navy back into the wooden ship days.”
Where in the world does he come up with these ideas? Too much reading, she guessed. “Hold up there, F. Lee, I don’t think you’ll have to worry about starving.”
“A wooden space ship! That would be hilarious!” After laughing at his own joke he scrunched up his face and said, “Who is ‘Efflee’? He some kind of Navy genius or something?”
Max laughed and explained who F. Lee Bailey was. Har just shook his head and reached for his napkin. The crowds in the arcade’s food court were starting to thin and she wanted to cap the day off with another treat for her son. “How about a movie, Har? There’s a big videoplex back there and I’m sure you would be able to find something that interests you out of so many choices.”
He looked around and thought for a second. “Naw, I think I’d rather go back to the building and try on some of my things. Just in case they don’t fit or match. In case we have to bring ’em back tomorrow. I noticed that one shirt —”
“Har, what is it, honey? What’re you looking at?” Max asked. Harold was focused on something behind her with squinting eyes.
“That man, the one behind you. I think that’s the same guy that drove us here from t
he spaceport yesterday. The one that didn’t drive too good? Don’t turn around Mom! Geeze, you could try to be ‘syruppy’ for a change.”
She turned slowly and looked behind her. He was right! It was the wacky cab driver from the previous day!
“How come when you tell people not to look, the first thing they do is look?” Har whined.
“You’re right, Har. It is the same man. I’m sure he’s just enjoying his meal, or he’s just having a drink between runs,” Max explained. “And why did you tell me to be syruppy? What does that even mean?”
He blew out a puff of air. “You know, syrup-titious. I read that in one of my books. It means ‘sneaky’ I think.”
Max laughed and patted him on the hand. “Yes it does. But the word is —”
He cut her off. “School doesn’t start for weeks, Mom. Gimme a break!”
Feigning parent abuse, she recoiled and put her hand on her chest. “Aye, Cadet Hansen, no more learning for you until we get to Bayliss.”
“That guy is sure interested in you. The only time he took his eyes off you was when you turned.”
Was this just Harold being his usual “high-conspiracy” imaginative self or was that man actually following them? She couldn’t think of any reason why he would be “tailing” her and her son. “Okay, let’s finish up. Get your trash together and let’s go.”
He stood and looked at her. “Get my trash? Don’t they have people to do that stuff? Nobody else is clearing their tables.”
Everything was a battle with him. Max lowered her eyes and looked at the surrounding tables in front of them. Har was right. The tables were filthy. In the distance she saw a uniformed buss boy going from table to table. There I go again, she thought, trying to impose my military discipline on my son. But he needs to know these things. She knew that once he hit the training school on Bayliss he would have to clean up after himself, and besides —
“Elber to Mom. Come in please. We going or what?”
She snapped out of her reverie and stood. She fought with the impulse to pile all of their used wrappers and soft drink cups onto the small tray and take it with her to the front. No. She was on leave. He was right, they have workers to do that kind of activity. “Sorry. We’re going. Let’s go back to the south side of the arcade and go out onto the parking apron. There’s a cab stand there.”
They picked up the shopping bags and headed out of the food court.
Galuud waited for a few minutes and followed.
* * *
In spite of the joyful noise a place like The Haven’s Heaven could have offered, Uri Haad elected to sit at the Officer’s Club bar located in a rather drab setting on the ground floor of one of the BOQ buildings. The lights were low, some kind of old-school chanting jazz was on the sound system and in a space designed to accommodate two hundred guests the club had captured only twenty.
Which was just fine with him. He had hurried back to his room, changed into his civvies — pull-over knit shirt and a pair of tan slacks — and headed straight for this place. He’d spent many nights in military bars like this when he was a junior officer and full of spit and vinegar, willing to debate any and all when it boiled down to war and bravery. He’d fought his way out of a lot of places not like this one while the war was going on, dives a stone’s throw from the nearest encampment. Many a night he had found himself being hauled to his feet by a couple of burly Shore Patrol ratings after some idiot that didn’t see his unique point of view opened up his head with a beer bottle.
But that was the old Uri Haad, he told himself. The new one, especially the new one whose “born on” date was today, was in a more reflective mood than a combative one. Hence, the Officer’s Club instead of one of the local hang-outs. He needed time to think things through, time to loosen up his tight grip on his career realities.
A Fleet Admiral Uriel Haad was hard for him to compute. He liked the sound of it, liked the prospect of commanding not just one ship and her crew, but tens of ships and thousands of sailors and marines. Was he up for the task? Did he have the passion for the job? Was his organizational skills refined enough to make such a move?
Did he believe all of that ‘cut from the same cloth’ and ‘fearless yet compassionate’ smoke the admiral was blowing up his ass?
These questions were troubling. He had been tested in battle, he had front line experiences that usually took all the air out of a room when they were mentioned. In his head he knew he could do the job but what were his balls telling him?
“Hit me with one more,” he told the bartender. Usually in the military clubs the bartenders and other members of the wait staff were not enlisted men or women. The psych guys figured that a lieutenant would be real hesitant to cut a commander off if his drinking got out of hand but a guy off the street would have no such compunction and more than likely would not hesitate to call in the Shore Patrol should someone, anyone, get out of hand. Made for a nice quiet watering hole a few short minutes from one’s bed.
“Coming at you.”
Haad fished out his swipe card and threw it down on the bar. When his third drink arrived the barkeep put the glass down and picked up the card. He took one step toward the center of the bar and stopped and turned. “I saw you on the video last night, Captain Haad,” the man said. He was about thirty, clean shaven, dark eyes and a small beer tumor just starting to distend his belly. The man had long tapered fingers, hands more suited for an artist or musician, Haad thought. Right now one of those hands held his card and the other plucked the corner of it a few times.
“Not much to look at, I’m afraid. I don’t do ‘mob scene’ very well, especially without a half-million tons of ship to back me up.”
“Oh, I think you handled that crowd pretty good. How many times did you tell that one pushy bitch ‘no comment’ and she still didn’t get the message? Man, that’s what I call courage under fire.”
He smiled and reached for his fresh drink, a simple one, single malt on ice. “If she had put that microphone in my jib one more time I would have had her arrested. Assaulting an officer. A Navy Officer. Isn’t that punishable by something down here on the ground?”
“Hey, I’m Jak Koch, captain. It would be an honor if you let me buy that last one, sir,” the bartender said, extending his slim hand.
Haad shook. “Not necessary, Mister Koch. Save the free ones for those that need it more than I do.” Haad tried not to show his amusement at the guy’s phony sounding name. Maybe he was an actor for his day job.
“You mean need the liquor or need the free liquor? I think there’s a subtle distinction.”
Haad just waved his hand. He really didn’t want to get into a debate with this young man, especially one bordering on the philosophical. “Whatever you see fit, just do it.”
The bartender moved away and headed for the till.
“Bring me that remote comm link when you come back, would you, son?”
Jak Koch nodded and continued working on the captain’s receipt.
Koch brought back the swipe reader and Haad only glanced at it before adding a huge tip. He dropped the card back into his breast pocket and slid the comm link over. He had been trying to get Davi Yorn all afternoon. He must be home by now. He had to share his news with him. He had tried Yorn’s personal number, then his Navy link.
He punched in his access code and tried the NAVVOX link again. Nothing. He listened to a minute of unanswered chirps and broke the connection. Once again he tried the personal number. Same thing.
Did Yorn decide to stay on Canton overnight? He got the base comm operator on the link and had him patch him through to the drydock on Canton. After listing to two minutes of static the radio call finally went through and he talked to the chief of boats. Nothing. Yorn made the shuttle to Elber yesterday with the crew rotation.
He looked quizzically at the instrument and finally put it back down. Something was not right.
Yorn, as a senior officer, was required to have his comm link active at all ti
mes. Haad collected himself and headed out of the Officer’s Club. His next move was to the base comm center. He needed answers.
* * *
Fifty-one kilometers south of the Officer’s Club, in a remote district near the town of Matterese, in a modest two-story dwelling fronting a small lake, a comm signal chirped for a full minute. Then a small hand-held VOX link danced across a wardrobe shelf as the pulsating vibrations of the incoming call activated the tiny device.
These signals were ignored. The two Malguurians looked at one another and shrugged. Not being totally up to speed on all things human, they tended to dismiss items beyond the scope of their mission.
Commander Davi Yorn was prone on the floor of his bedroom trussed up like a holiday package with thin nylon ropes. His mouth was taped shut and his eyes were closed beneath the black hood they used to cover his head. He did not move, his system overcome by the fast-acting drug his assailants had used. They’d been waiting for him. He had been set upon as soon as he entered the room. Yorn managed only one feeble strike at the men before the injection into the side of his neck floored him like a sack of dropped potatoes.
“What do you think, Paarit? Somebody’s looking for him. That’s the second round of calls.”
Paarit Vuunis shook his head, a head altered enough to make him appear almost human. Only his slightly longer upper arms and the stubble of hair down the center of his head betrayed him. But there were only three men along on this operation and two of them were similar in appearance. The third man was uncannily human.
“Probably one of his whores calling to arrange a liaison, Yaneel. You know how these humans like to rut after they return from a trip.”
The Belt Loop_Book Two_Revenge of the Varson Page 9