What I'm offering you is command of your own fleet, twenty ships, over twenty-seven thousand personnel, entry into the Admiralty registry, your own Admirals craft, private and executive staff; and, a challenge of unbelievable proportions. It also means a twenty-five percent raise in income, to a base rate of fifty-five thousand sovereigns, a higher standard of field accommodations and facilities; and, a step on the path to four stars.
I don't require an immediate answer; but, you must decide by tomorrow. I will be compelled to select someone else immediately, if you say no; because, it takes time to make things happen in an Empire this size." Stephenson finished his pitch; and, slumped back in the chair with hands clasped in his lap. Then, there was silence.
"I don't need until tomorrow.' Bryant started decisively, after a full minute's consideration. 'I will say yes; with two conditions. First, I make my own choices for senior staff; and that includes, a new Command level I wish to establish, within the Fleet. I want to inaugurate a formal level between Fleet Command and Group Command headed by a Rear Admiral. And, I aim to make my own pick to that position - call it Deputy Fleet Commander. It’ll alleviate any problems, when I’m away or incapacitated; and, it’s working well in Borealis Fleet. Plus, we'll have full command capabilities in both halves, if we split the Fleet. Then, I’d like to create and staff a new division within the medical department. For lack of a better term, I will call it Counseling Services Division. It will serve the Fleet to aid those in pain from the stresses of duty. Any sufferers currently come here or return to Earth for treatment. Issues could often be dealt with locally much more efficiently and timely - before turning into full blown PTSD cases. And from your summary of the region, Boots is one Fleet that could really use the service. In addition, it would mean that those seeking help would not immediately have an entry placed into their personnel records. Other than that, I'm your man." He finished.
"Who any Senior Commander promotes to executive positions; or, how he sets up the Fleet command structure is up to him; as long as, it fits within Regulations. Since a Level Eight appointment requires Headquarters' approval, I understand why you broach the matter; but, usually we would rubber stamp your choice anyway. Your fleet is yours. You would be responsible for assets worth over seven hundred million sovereigns, a nearly two billion sovereign annual operating budget, a one-hundred-fifty million sovereign capital budget and all the Fleet objectives and responsibilities. If creating a new departmental division will help achieve results; we aren’t going to quibble. So, I can honestly say yes to your conditions, without compromise. You'll find everything you need on this data pad. Once you imprint it, you will have all security clearances; and, will unofficially already have command of Boots Fleet, Vice Admiral.' Stephenson said, with a grin; as he tapped final changes into the pad; then, handed it over to Bryant.
'You will be here until after your elevation ceremony on the twenty-first. The C&C need to hustle the nomination through. While that's going on, you must formally select your personnel and make any official appropriation to me as soon as possible. Then, there is the ceremony; and, a dinner in your honor. We need to meet tomorrow to get all the final details ironed out; including your new Rear Admiral; so, I can send you to Boots with the promotion in hand. I don't have details yet but, I also know the C&C have a couple of provisos for whoever takes Boots Fleet. Let's meet at ten hundred hours, tomorrow. I'll have everything ironed out by then. Do you have any questions or observations, George?" Stephenson added in a less officious more friendly manner.
"Not really, sir; except to pledge that, I'll try not to disappoint you. And, ten hundred hours will be fine." George responded, as he rose to his feet.
Stephenson lit up in a broad smile as he stood; right hand extended.
"Congratulations George, you'll do just fine. I'm glad you’re taking the assignment. You've done a great job for the service, over your career; and, you deserve the chance to move into senior flag ranks. It's an exclusive club. There are only one hundred-three active Senior Level Executives in a two million personnel organization. Seventy-six of those have Tactical Commands. The rest are Staff positions and pencil pushers. You will find that, though you had little contact before; every officer above you will now seek and respect your opinion. The chain of command is always maintained; but, don't be surprised to be contacted directly, by the C&C or me, for evaluations and opinions. Just as you will come to depend on your Group Commanders for their on-site evaluations; we look to the other members of our little group for their observations and opinions." Bill had held the hand shake as he concluded the monologue.
George snapped to attention and shook the offered hand. "With your permission, sir; I will get going. I have preparations to make and homework to do."
"Dismissed." Stephenson snapped back.
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George ambled along with Marie; as she walked him through the corridors. He did not know what cued her; but, she awaited him when, he departed Stephenson's office. He had accepted when, she suggested a tour of what was important to him, at the headquarters complex. The massive structure held the more than thirty-three thousand personnel that ran the organization, under the direction of the C&C and Quadrant Commanders. She took him past the dining halls, the communications Centre, medical; and then, out the doors to the rear of the complex into familiar territory. She had brought him into the facility this way.
They sauntered past the pad where his shuttle and crew stood waiting. Stopping at hangar five, she pointed inside. "Your Admiral's craft and crew are inside. You may want to familiarize yourself and meet your crew. On our way back, you may want to stop at Pad Seven and release the shuttle, you arrived in. You won't need it any longer." Marie said with a smile.
"Did Stephenson instruct you to do this?" He asked.
"No sir, but, he did advise me, you have accepted a promotion and assignment as Boots Commander. This is Boots Fleet Admiral's Craft. It only follows that; it’s yours now. It was Admiral Stephenson's; but, he utilizes the Quadrant one, now." She reverted to silence as, they stepped into the hangar.
"Lieutenant Commander Olivia Hurst." A tall, stately, very attractive blonde smartly snapped to attention and saluted as he approached. "May I assist you Rear Admiral?" She queried.
"Yes Commander, I have just accepted an assignment as Commander Boots Fleet. This will be my craft; and, I presume, you and your crew will be within my Command. That is, if you wish to stay on?" George smiled as he returned the salute; then offered a handshake as he made his explanation.
"Commander, this is Vice Admiral George Bryant; Commander Boots Fleet." Marie interjected.
"It's a pleasure to meet you Admiral; and yes, I will stay on. I love Boots and I love commanding a crew." She said in quiet earnestness.
"I will be here another two to three weeks. I would like to leave, no later than, the morning of the twenty-fourth. Of course you and the crew are invited to the headquarters promotion ceremony; if you'd like to come. It would be nice to have someone present representing Boots personnel." He responded with a smile.
"Yes sir, we'd be honored. Would you like the fifty cent tour, now?" She asked waving her hand in the general direction of the Admirals Craft.
He couldn't help but appraise her, in comparison to Marie; as, she conducted the tour. She was tall; probably a little over one hundred and eighty-five centimeters. Slim and erect her ample breasts were more perky than undergarments could make them. He assumed, she was in remarkable physical condition; probably conducting a rigid exercise regimen, daily. Her body was flat through the bottom of her ribcage, stomach and lower belly; but, hips curved out pleasingly creating elegant arcs that flowed in to her legs. The uniform's slacks did not permit an assessment of her legs; but they were long. A beautifully featured, high cheek boned, slim nosed face held sharp green eyes with clear whites framed by wide almond shaped eyelids. Her almost ho
ney blonde hair was cut to a stylishly short blunt edge just below the ear lobe; and, worn slightly swept back along the sides; but, brushed to the left along the front bangs. Though a very statuesque and elegant package; she, did not compare to the striking beauty of the midshipman he toured the base with. Like Marie, she smiled warmly and easily; but, seemed less daring and impish, in nature.
The vessel is impressive for a personal craft. These are the largest craft that can be landed. The forty-eight-person crew manages the five station bridge; a large galley serving into an expansive lounge; a sizable engineering department and quarters for eighty-two passengers and crew. Eight substantial two level Officer’s suites occupy the two upper decks. Fifty-four large rooms with in-suite baths serve as crew and guest quarters on the two decks below. Her three propulsion system, tri-layer opposing field shielding, gravity generators and defensive weaponry make the vessel a safe and comfortable method of travel. Forty-eight thrusters imbedded in the keel enable vertical takeoff and landing. Though expansive from this point of view, her gravity generator could only achieve twenty-five percent of Earth Gravity, due to her size.
It takes special training to pilot one of these beasts. They are generally flown in, what is considered to be, strange attitudes. Keeping the craft's floor pointed toward the system gravity median you exit; then toward the one you were travelling to until orbit, boosting the internal gravity to between thirty and thirty-five percent. Bridge crew tend to use display screens one hundred percent of the time; instead of, relying on view ports, occasionally.
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George and Marie stopped by pad seven to give the shuttle pilot and crew orders. He asked them not to leave for a couple of hours and to advise Singh only when, they were actually getting off the ground. It was when she noticed the shuttle pilot craning to maintain eye contact with the much taller Bryant that, she really took stock of him. He is tall and very erect; not in a stiff way; but, with a stately bearing instead. She estimated his age at not older than thirty-four by the lack of character lines in his face or bags under his eyes. Café au lait skin, brown eyes and a thin nose completed a ruggedly handsome face topped by a thick head of short cropped dark hair. Slim and very fit, he could easily be mistaken for a professional athlete.
They continued the tour for about another hour; taking in all the grounds; then returning inside to visit the C&C staff offices, Quadrant Three staff offices, the Security Department and the Intelligence Department. Marie introduced him to the chiefs and department heads who each took a few minutes from their busy day to speak with him.
"Can we head back to quarters, now? I need you to show me my way into the computer system. I have a lot of homework to do, before tomorrow. Bryant directed at Marie, as they walked towards the back of the main building.
"Won't you be needing uniforms, before the ceremony?" Marie asked.
"No, not uniforms; the ones I have are already appropriate. But, they will require alteration. They need the correct patches and aiguillette. However, I know Banerjee, already. I was here three years ago; and, had him do tailored Flag Uniforms for me. We can go in early tomorrow. He is very fast.' George explained; as, they stepped up to his door. 'He maintains stock of pants, skirts, jackets, shirts and ties in all sizes and cloths set up for mix and match. All he has to do is minor alterations to give an officer a tailored uniform in a day or two. Cost is determined by the material. If you want the best ultra-fine Italian merino wool, you pay the highest price. But, your seven hundred sovereign uniform hangs like a suit three times the price. Your jacket cuff buttons indicate the suit class. Five button jackets are made from the best materials - like the ultra-fine; but, four button are generally super-fine merino. Three button can be any other fabric; but, still indicates a custom made suit. In the back, his people just produce what it takes to replenish the stock. You get an allowance from your Fleet. You pay the difference if you want something more; unless, you can get your commander to authorize a larger subsidy. When you are commissioned, you should have no trouble getting the best merino, if you are still at headquarters. The old man thinks the sun rises and sets on you. I believe he thinks of you as a daughter. I paid the difference for my uniforms; but, as a Fleet Commander, any new ones would be fully paid for, at the top level. You’re generally allowed two service, one mess and nine daily sets, plus three sets of accessories, in every calendar year. There is a Banerjee outlet on every Theatre Command Carrier" Bryant finished.
"What are the service and mess uniforms like. I don't recognize the terms." Marie inquired.
"The service uniform is a kind of dress uniform; but, can be worn for a function like my upcoming promotion. It's worn with the standard gray shirt and long tie for daily functions, like an official planning meeting. It can be worn with a white shirt and bow tie to official after eighteen-hundred-hours events. Its jacket is a standard length single breasted suit one. The mess uniform is for very formal official events; like those that might be attended by the Emperor. It is Cavalry styled and only worn with a waistcoat and cummerbund and bowtie. The women's mess uniform has a crossed tie and is worn with a pleated skirt. Of course, the dailies are everyday uniforms. All gray with no jacket. They’re kind of like a combat uniform." He explained.
Marie held up his data pad in indication that, she wanted him to watch. She pressed the screen; as she waved it across a receiver on his door jamb; which clicked as it unlocked the door. She passed his luggage, inside; as, she stepped to the console on the desk; tapping a button on the data pad. Three dimensional holographic images appeared in the air, over the desk. She manipulated them; navigating through the system; pointing out important milestones. By the time she finished, George knew he could find his way to Boots Fleet and Quadrant Three personnel files he needed to examine.
"I'm going to order something. Would you like to stay for dinner?" He asked.
"No, I have work to do to prepare for your big day. I have to be able to advise you on the protocols; and, I've never been involved in the promotion of a Senior General Staff member.' she responded with a smile; as she edged towards the door. 'With your permission, Admiral?" She requested his leave.
"Your dismissed, Yeoman; and, have a good evening." He responded with a smile.
"Thank you; and, you too, sir." She replied with a smile as she exited the room.
George was somewhat disappointed that Marie hadn't accepted his invitation; but, spent the next two hours examining Boots and headquarters personnel files for different positions within the Fleet, after ordering his dinner. The salad and chicken breast arrived; interrupting as he was investigating personnel for his new Counseling position. When finally, able to return his concentration to the task, one file stood out, immediately. He spent half an hour examining it in detail; finally deciding that, this was his choice.
He went over the Theatre Command's personnel records looking for good selections for the Deputy Fleet Commander position. No one struck his fancy; so, he turned to Boots Fleet records. Both Group Commanders stood out as ideal candidates. Commodore Grace Tonaka, Commander of Grenada Group, was a thirty-three-year-old powerhouse who had distinguished herself on several occasions. They had been assigned together a short while back; and, George had met her in a multi-fleet exercise sponsored by Theatre Five Command, five months ago. She had been a most impressive Group Commander. All previous Commanders had been impressed by her performance throughout her career, including Stephenson. Commodore Tom Stevens Commander Columbia Group was fifty-one and being avoided strictly because of age. His prime had come during a lull in activity in the OESA. When things finally picked up, he was viewed as too old for Senior Level commands, by those above; who tried to engage young aggressive people in the important positions. Tom had a distinguished career; having received several commendations over the years; and, rising rapidly before the OESA period of low activity. George had been Comm
ander of the carrier Kenya, when Tom was Commander of the Kenya Group, in the Hercules Fleet. His Commanders' evaluations of his performance were outstanding.
George completed the documentation for the personnel moves, on the data pad. Stevens would be the new Deputy Fleet Commander. Now, Fleet orders would filter through another level of command; leaving someone in charge, if he were unavailable or indisposed.
Another hour was spent on files for the positions of Adjutant and Chief of Staff. Both Stephenson's people had been excellent; but, he had brought them to Headquarters with him. Bryant would leave his current chief with Canada's new Group Commander. Adjutant of a Fleet m Command could hold no less rank than Captain; and a Chief of Staff would be raised to or at the level of Commodore. By the time he was finished, George decided he would combine the positions and had a pick from within Boots. He looked over Boots additional personnel records; trying to familiarize himself with the possible choices for replacements to those he was promoting. The choices would actually fall to others; but, he would be required to approve them. A little advanced knowledge would be helpful.
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