Badger

by Kindal Debenham

  Jacob nodded. “Miguel’s right. I didn’t see what Morris had planned on the Wolfhound until it happened, and the enemy could easily try to pull off the same thing here.” He forced himself to chuckle. “This time I’d like to start out on a ship that doesn’t have bombs on it, if you don’t mind.”

  A half-hearted echo of his chuckle ran through the group. When it subsided, Miguel settled back into his seat and tapped his thumb against his cheek. “In some ways, we actually have the opposite problem here. Our biggest problems might not be an enemy agent hired by the Odurans or even the Telosians. Instead we may have to watch for the workers who are too eager to work, or too excited to start instead.” Yorkshire gave the commander an incredulous look, and Miguel shook his head. “Picture it, Yorkshire. You’re a new worker on Reefhome, and you’ve got the chance to work on the ship that won your freedom. You’re proud, you’re nervous, and you’re bursting to talk. The moment you get off shift, you’re suddenly the Navy’s worst security threat.”

  Turley let out a bark of laughter. “I can just see the damn fools now. Some pretty girl with an odd interest in destroyers starts chatting them up, and they’ve given our entire design plan away in one hell of an excited babble.” He fell silent for a moment, and his mirth faded. “How the hell are we supposed to stop that from happening? Glue their lips shut the moment they leave the docks?”

  Jacob grinned at the idea of a suddenly mute construction crew wandering from restaurant to restaurant, desperate for food. “No, Turley, I think we could probably arrange a few other ways to keep things under wraps. We could limit access to the overall design plans and encourage the workers to sleep on the docks. The work schedule we’ll put them on will tire them out enough to make the arrangement seem attractive, but I think we could squeeze in a few more incentives for the more enthusiastic workers.”

  Miguel cracked a smile. “Like maybe the chance to rub shoulders with the great Captain Hull in their downtime?”

  A guffaw escaped Turley, and even Yorkshire grinned openly. Jacob repressed a groan and nodded. “I’ll probably want to be close enough to the project that I’ll be there anyway. Why not use what we have? Go ahead and tell them I’ll be there.”

  “Damn, the responsibilities of command are heavy, right Jacob?” Turley kept chuckling, inspiring all sorts of plots for revenge in Jacob’s mind that even Isaac would have been proud of. Before he could respond, however, Yorkshire spoke up again.

  “There is another problem we should anticipate, Captain.”

  When Jacob turned back to him in surprise, Yorkshire shook his head. “Once word gets out you’re here, we may have to plan on how to discourage reporters from printing the details of our work here. Especially once they know you’re in charge of it.”

  Jacob frowned. “You really think I’ll draw that many newscasters here, Mr. Yorkshire? I mean, I expected them at Celostia, but out here they are nearly at the edge of the Union. The High Seat thought this far of a distance would discourage them at the very least.”

  The other three men stared at him. Miguel was the one who responded, shaking his head. “You…haven’t been watching the news lately, have you?”

  “I’ve had a lot on my plate, Commander.” Miguel snorted and shared a look with Turley, who was half incredulous disbelief. Jacob ignored both of them and turned to Yorkshire. “Mr. Yorkshire, do you believe they’ll come, even considering the distances involved?”

  Yorkshire’s expression was firm. “Yes, sir. They’ll come, at least a few of them. Even if they don’t, you’ll have to worry about the local outlets here in Reefhome.” The engineer dry washed his hands. “You’re something of a celebrity here after all, and the Station’s going to want to know what you’re doing with its precious Wolfhound.”

  The words had the edge of truth in them, and Jacob pondered over the problem for a long moment. He came to no real solutions, and he sighed in frustration. “Okay, we’ll keep those problems in mind alongside the weapons for now. Hopefully we’ll be able to figure something out before the chaos actually starts.” Jacob paused, dreading the next question. “Besides those issues, is there anything else we should know about that would prevent the project from going forward?”

  “Yes, sir. There is one last thing.”

  Jacob froze. He turned to Turley, wondering what the former engineering chief was about to say that could make the situation more painful to deal with. The man gave no clue, sitting calmly in his seat.

  “Yes, Lieutenant Turley, what is it?”

  “You’re ugly.” Turley said it with such seriousness that it failed to register with Jacob for a few seconds. He blinked, trying to figure it out as Turley continued. The lieutenant was obviously fighting a smile. “Damn ugly, sir. I’m surprised mirrors don’t break and cameras don’t burst. It’s terrible.”

  Then Yorkshire burst out laughing, followed closely by Miguel. Turley himself cracked a smile, his chuckles returning as the other two laughed. Jacob shook his head, feeling an irresistible urge to smile himself. He waited until the others had settled, and he raised an eyebrow.

  “Well, Lieutenant, I think we can work on it at a later date. Maybe you can share some of your beauty tips with me when you have the time.” Yorkshire went off into gales of laughter again, and Turley’s guffaws joined him. Miguel was having trouble breathing at this point. Jacob shook his head, letting out a small chuckle, and then he sat back with a sigh. “Now aside from the ugly thing, we’ve got a lot of work to do. So let’s get to it, and maybe this ugly duckling squadron can be a swan by the time the Odurans come back to town. Dismissed.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  As Jacob walked to his cabin later on that evening, he wondered what he could do to alleviate the problems his new project faced. Without guns, his ships would end up toothless punching bags—the opposite of the warships he wanted to create. Without secrecy, he would end up losing the advantage of surprise the new ships would give the fleet—and perhaps worse, could encourage the Odurans to embark on similar projects. There had to be a way to make things come together in the end. He hadn’t come this far to give up now.

  He smiled as he realized that the same Hull determination that had convinced Catherine he needed to leave the military was now driving him. The memory of their fight reminded him of at least one solution he had thought of. All it took was a quick message to Admiral Nivrosky, accompanied by another message to Michael Demarcos, dependent on the admiral’s approval. While he might not like the idea of the man marrying his sister, Jacob knew he could use any advance he could get right now. If his sister’s boyfriend could design a better—and more importantly smaller—riftjump system, then he needed it, regardless of his personal feelings.

  If Nivrosky agreed, Michael could be working alongside Yorkshire and the others in less than two weeks, which would give Jacob just enough time to think of a way to avoid the urge to wring the man’s neck each time he saw him with his arm around Catherine…. Jacob grunted sourly. Two weeks was a short time. He’d need to think hard.

  On the wake of the hostility he felt, Jacob’s thoughts drifted to Al-shira. He wondered where the Badger was and if it was still in the Celostia system. Would she have been reassigned after the disaster at Wayward, or would she have remained untouched by the scandal of the court martial and the costly victory that had caused it? He didn’t think she could have been blamed for anything, not in her current position, but there was always the possibility.

  He realized that until his orders carried him home again, he probably would never find out. It was a little frustrating. If she remained as the communications officer of the Badger, she’d see the message he’d sent for the High Admiral, as well as the one for Michael, and would probably be able to guess the reason for it. Al-shira would know more about his situation and problems than he would of hers, and given how much she had helped him in Reefhome, she’d have some solution already prepared for him, but wouldn’t tell him unless he dug for it. Unfortunately for him, she wa
s nearly a week away by riftjump, which meant any attempt to dig it out of her was going to fail.

  Still, an attempt was better than admitting defeat. Jacob sighed and picked up his reader again. He started to write the next message, explaining his dilemmas with the ships and his thoughts on the obstacles he faced. As he neared the end of his description of the problems, he paused. It truly wasn’t fair she would get to learn so much about his problems, and she wouldn’t tell him anything. A little spark of resentment burned there; he tried to convince himself it wouldn’t matter, or that he didn’t care.

  He failed. With a sudden burst of furious typing, Jacob pounded out a few questions, mostly the kind of query that would help him know she had made it through the ordeal on Celostia unharmed, and then decided his message was done. She might be infuriated by his attempts to pawn his problems off on her, and maybe even angrier over his questions, but she’d asked for him to write, hadn’t she? Or at least she’d been angry about it then. Who knew what she’d be angry about now?

  Nearly throwing up his hands in frustration, Jacob turned to lie on the cot he had been provided. It was no captain’s bunk, but it would do. Exhausted from his journey and still thinking furiously away on the problems he faced, he drifted off to sleep. The project to restore his squadron would begin tomorrow, and he would need every ounce of energy to face the task.

  A week after he had sent his message, Jacob awoke to a pounding on his door that sounded far, far too familiar. He was slow to wake; the schedule he was attempting to keep had taken its toll. Every day started with a worker’s meeting, followed by another meeting with the staff Yorkshire had chosen to prepare the warships for their reconstruction. They had still not developed a final plan for the design, but that wouldn’t matter for the first few parts of the process, which mostly involved clearing debris and identifying problem spots. Unfortunately, the fourteen hour days had been rapidly grinding down Jacob’s reserves, and he was starting to doubt his sanity due to sleep deprivation.

  Which was why he doubted his sanity when he checked the time. He blinked at the clock, nearly swearing when he realized how early in the morning it was, and then he pushed himself up out of the narrow cot he’d been given. Stumbling over a poorly placed chair, he launched himself at the door. Jacob tapped the combination into the keypad and triggered the mechanism that allowed the portal to slide open.

  He yanked the door open and blinked as the light from the corridor flooded in. “Yes? Who is it?”

  The figure standing at attention beyond his doorway was familiar. Isaac smiled, his teeth flashing white as he saluted. “Lieutenant Isaac Bellworth reporting for duty, sir.”

  Jacob grunted. “Isaac? About time you got here.” He turned and stomped back into the room, leaving Isaac standing in the hallway. When he glanced back, the Gunnery officer was staring at him. “Well, come on in.”

  Isaac crossed the doorway carefully, as if trying not to step on a landmine. “Jacob? You feeling okay?”

  “Yeah. A little tired. How was your trip?” Jacob fell into a seat and waved for Isaac to take the other one. The other officer slid the chair around and sat, his expression still confused.

  “It was all right, I guess. How’d you know I was coming?”

  Jacob spitted him with a glare. “Over the past two years, the Bureau of Personnel has transferred nearly every one of my former crew to different commands at least once. The only exceptions have been you, Leon, and Laurie.” He shook his head. “Leon I could explain because of his father’s connections, but you two? You’ve had a few backdoors in the Bureau’s transfer systems for a while now. It was only a matter of time.”

  Isaac shrugged. A hesitant grin spread over his face. “I can neither confirm, nor deny any of that. Of course, you probably shouldn’t be surprised if either of those two shows up in the staff the Navy sends you. In fact, Laurie arrived here with me and the others today.” He winked. “While I was making my…arrangements…I also caught a hint of the ruckus Leon was making, and it looks like you might have another one of us hanging onto your coattails soon.”

  “Oh really.” Jacob sat back, folding his arms. “Do tell.”

  Isaac’s smile grew huge. “No, I don’t think I’ll ruin the fun. Let’s just say things will be getting rather interesting soon.” He glanced back toward the corridor, his grin fading. “So why don’t you tell me what’s been going on with our ship? After all, if I’m going to be serving here as your aide, I should probably know what’s taking so long.”

  “An aide? You? I’ll have to work extra hard to keep you out of trouble.” Jacob smiled in spite of himself, and he stood up. He started rummaging around on his desk for his reader. “Things are going well so far, but we’ve got a few problems we’re still figuring out.”

  Isaac tilted his chair back and put his feet on the edge of the desk. “Why not run it by me? I could let my unrivaled genius take a whack at it for you.”

  Jacob snorted and turned back to look at Isaac. Obviously his idea of military discipline had slipped during Jacob’s brief absence. “All right. You know these ships were wrecks to begin with right?” Isaac nodded. “So far we’ve just been cleaning out debris. We’re doing well, but we’re going to hit a wall once we get everything ready for the refit work. Between all the damage they took and…” Jacob glared at Isaac as the lieutenant yawned. “Am I boring you, Lieutenant?”

  “Oh, never, Captain Hull.” Isaac grinned. “It is kind of late, so why don’t you sum things up for me.”

  Jacob rolled his eyes. “Fine. To keep it brief for the peanut gallery, we don’t have enough guns, our ships are banged up, and the press might blow the cover for the operation. Any ideas?”

  The chair’s front legs hit the floor hard. Isaac leaned forward, his eyes intense. “Not enough guns? What are you talking about?”

  Glad he’d finally caught Isaac’s attention, Jacob leaned back against the desk and crossed his arms again. “The Navy’s provided us with the bare minimum of material and monetary support, and apparently railgun mounts are in short supply. If we try to fit up the destroyers like they were before, we’ll run short of what we need to finish the job.”

  “That’s terrible.” Isaac came out of his seat and plucked Jacob’s reader from the corner of the desk. He tapped a few buttons, and the reader activated—without, Jacob noted, the need for his password. Isaac paged through a few directories, and his expression grew more and more grim. “It looks like most of them have their long-range guns at least, but without the rest, we’re going to be hurting.”

  “I know. Turley said it’d be easier to break up the whole lot of them and make one functional destroyer. Looking at the kind of work we’re going to need to make them spaceworthy, I almost agree with him.” Jacob shook his head. “So you can see why I’m a little grumpy at the moment.”

  “Yeah, I can.” A speculative look crossed Isaac’s, and he set the reader back on the desk. “Hey, when you mentioned making a whole new ship. Why don’t we do that?”

  Jacob blinked. His mind was still clouded with sleep, and he didn’t grasp Isaac’s meaning right away. “What are you talking about? We need a squadron of destroyers to work with, not one ship.”

  “Maybe we’ll get a squadron of those after all.” Isaac smiled. “So we don’t have the exact railgun mounts the Navy originally gave us. Why not shift around what we have and modify the armament plan for the destroyers? It’ll leave us with a different loadout for each ship, but we might be able to work around the limitations we’re stuck with. I might be able to divert a few weapons shipments for us as well, if they haven’t changed the systems around a lot.”

  Jacob stared at Isaac. “You’re serious. The Navy wouldn’t stand for something like that. Each ship has exactly the same load of weapons as the rest of its class for a reason. A warship with specialized weapons designs usually has a glaring weakness that can be easily exploited. Besides, how are we supposed to plan tactics around a complement of non-standard ships?”


  Isaac grimaced. “So the Navy doesn’t like individual load outs for ships. Why do we care? The ships we’re building already run contrary to what their typical ship designs anyway.” The corner of his mouth twitched into a half smile. “Maybe instead of designing them to act individually, we can have ships built around a squadron formation instead of individual units. Kind of like a pack instead of a lone wolf.”

  Jacob opened his mouth to shoot the idea down, and then paused. The image of a group of destroyers acting in concert to bring down a larger target appealed to him, as did the chance to use a formation of ships to blow through groups of smaller targets. How might Wayward have gone if the Terrier and Beagle had been designed to work together instead of separately? He nodded slowly. “All right. What kind of designs are you thinking about?”

  Isaac shrugged again. “I’m not sure yet. I still need a bit of time to work on it, but I can tell you our destroyers aren’t going to be toothless when I’m done with them.” Isaac smiled, and the twist of his lips turned it almost feral. “I can pretty much guarantee we’ll make just as much of an impact on them as we want.”

  “Good. Let’s get started then.” Jacob started toward the door, and then a yawn forced him to stop. The fact that he was still in sleepwear penetrated his weary mind, and he turned back to Isaac. “Better idea. You get started, and I’m going to finish my little nap here. I’ll see you in…” He checked the clock and grimaced. “Damn it. Four hours? Goodnight, Lieutenant.”

  “Goodnight Captain. See you when you’re human again.” Isaac tossed him a casual salute, which Jacob returned, and the Gunnery officer retreated to the doorway. Jacob turned back to the cot and had already collapsed into its warm, inviting embrace when a thought occurred to him. He twisted and saw Isaac opening the doorway and spoke up quickly before the other officer could leave.