The Belt Loop_Book 3_End of an Empire

by Robert B. Jones

  Two more petty officers trundled into the waiting area, both carrying huge duffels. Yorn noticed they were both machinists mates.

  “Officers on deck,” one of the men said as he noticed the two senior officers.

  Before the man could drop his load and snap to attention, Yorn waved him down. “Stand at ease, men. Right now, we’re just waiting passengers, same as you,” Yorn said.

  The rates smiled broadly and approached the row of chairs. “Thank you, sir, ma’am. I thought we would be the only ones here this early. Me and Chief Dix are going to check out the machine shops before all the action starts.”

  Yorn nodded. “You men headed for the docks?”

  Dix said, “That’s affirmative, sir. We’re heading to a reconditioned boat and wanted to get our shop in order before the Christi’s captain arrived.”

  Gertz smiled and tugged at Yorn’s arm. “Introduce yourself, captain. These gentlemen are working for you.”

  Yorn did a double take and realized the person she was calling “captain” was none other than himself. He stood and offered his hand. “Captain Yorn,” he said, shaking with Dix. The other chief identified himself as Gorn and he shook in turn.

  “This is Commander Gertz, and she will be my XO. We’re up for a little shakedown inspection before the crew arrives in earnest.”

  The chiefs shook Milli Gertz’s hand, the gloved one. Neither man commented on the latex glove. “My brother was a hull maintenance tech on the Christi on her last voyage, and, boy, the tales he told me about the Belt Loop. Sounds like she’s seen her share of action, sir,” Gorn said.

  “If he was on the last voyage, I probably know him. Was his name Quint?”

  Gorn beamed a broad smile. “Yes, sir. Our whole family is in the Navy, sir. I’ve got four other brothers scattered all around the Fringes. I’m hoping they did a good job on your ship, Captain Yorn.”

  Chief Dix spoke next. “I saw the big ceremony up at the college, sir. Congratulations to you both. I am proud to be sailing with you.”

  They both thanked the chief and at the tail end of their conversation the shuttle departure was announced. A commotion at the lounge door made the four of them turn. Thirty-five sailors rushed into the lounge and headed for the departure gate without so much as looking at Yorn, Gertz and the two chiefs. Men and women in all ranks and ratings passed their chairs and they all seemed to have expectant looks on their faces.

  Chief Gorn watched the group march past and turned back to his captain. “Looks like we’re not the only early risers, sir. I recognize a lot of those guys; they’re headed for the Christi just like we are. Looks like you’re going to have a very eager crew to sail her, captain. Looks like the kitchen will be opened by 0300 hours, too.”

  Yorn could not help but grin. Maybe this captain thing will turn out okay after all.

  He reached down for his gear and Milli gathered up her bags and they fell in line behind the two chiefs and the rest of the departing sailors.

  If this early show of crew spirit was any indication of what he could expect once he landed his narrow butt into the captain’s chair, his first command would be a piece of cake.

  He really dreaded that word “if”. It had too much implied uncertainty and way too many letters.

  * * *

  At 0700 hours on Monday, Admiral Uriel Haad looked himself over in the small mirror over the washstand in his BOQ suite. When he and Holli had returned from their two-day honeymoon in the highlands, Haad made it a point to get straight to bed. His first day of actual duty in his new capacity would be taxing and he knew it. First on his agenda was a briefing from Vice Admiral Paine at 0800 then a meeting with his new staff members at the temporary headquarters setup. Then off to inspect a couple of ships at the Port Authority dock. At roughly 1345 hours he was scheduled to take command of the CNS Kona Coast and rendezvous with six battle cruisers headed for Wilkes and the meeting with the Great Black Fleet from Earth. He was to be the “ambassador” from the Third Fleet of Elber Prime and his duties centered around making the GBF commanders feel welcomed, and brief them on the new hostilities brewing in the Fringes.

  Dog and pony shows. Just the thing to convince Holli that his new role in the Navy was neither dangerous nor time-consuming. He was scheduled to be back on Bayliss in ten days. Three days out, four on site, three days back. A schedule he could live with.

  When he was satisfied his image was correct, his new uniform perfect, his brass shined and finger-print free, Haad turned from the mirror and headed into the small kitchenette. Holli already had his coffee waiting for him.

  “I don’t know whether to salute or go blind, Uri,” she said, handing him a steaming mug. “You look very handsome in your new uni. I should get some pictures for our scrapbook.”

  He waved off the compliment. “Nothing to see here; move along.”

  She smiled and left the kitchen. Before he had time to take his second sip of coffee she was back, camera in hand. She fiddled with the instrument for a second or two, looked at him through the eyepiece, put the camera on the pass-through ledge and hurried to his side. “Okay, put down that cup and look at the camera. This’ll be your first official photo as admiral.”

  He put his mug on the counter and pulled her in close. When the camera beeped its tone to signal the deed was done, Holli ran out to the bedroom and came back with a high-speed DSLR and captured another fifty images of her splendid husband. “Are we good?” he wanted to know. “My transportation is due within the next two minutes.”

  “We’re good,” she said and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Before you go off and start being all ‘admiraly’ and shit, I just wanted to capture your soul in my camera. The real Uriel Haad, immortalized in three-D holographic splendor on his first day. Capture you before all of the stuffed shirts get to you.”

  “Ouch. Remember, I’m one of those stuffed shirts now. That’s what we old geezers do best. Walking around the complex, coffee mug in hand, cigar shoved in our cheeks, barking orders and commanding unstuffed shirts. That’s the Navy way.”

  “I’m taking the day off so I can get your things ready for your cruise. That’s what Navy wives do: stuffing stuffed shirts into suitcases and travel bags,” she said.

  They shared a loose hug and said their goodbyes. “I’ll be back around noon to get my gear.”

  She brushed a long blonde hair from the front of his uniform and smiled. “Aye, aye, sir.”

  His comm stack squawked from the front room. A Lieutenant Commander Simms was at the door. His ride was idling at the curb. Holli let him go and took a deep breath as he stepped out into the morning haze. He turned and flipped her a two-finger salute, placed his cover on his head, shook hands with his adjutant and pulled the door closed behind him.

  She watched the door for a minute before heading to the shower. She had a list a few meters long and she had to get a lot done before noon. The first thing on her agenda for this day was inspecting the base housing offerings for her O-7 rear admiral husband.

  Chapter 35

  When the messenger yeoman dropped off her packet of orders Maxine Hansen was stunned. Not only was she going to Wilkes, she was also heading out on a Vortex-class battle cruiser named the Kona Coast under the command of Admiral Uri Haad and captained by Bill Mason. It would be old-home week for her. At least on the flagship she would be used to a couple of faces on the bridge. Her career sure had taken a lot of sudden and spectacular moves since those frightening days aboard the Corpus Christi. She was buoyed by the fact her new assignment would keep her based at Weyring and as long as she sailed with a member of the Admiralty she would more than likely make port at least several times a month. That would give her ample time to keep track of Har and his progress at the Hayes School.

  And more time to see Ken Royal.

  When his name flashed through her mind she felt a tingle run up and down her spine and she shook to get rid of the feeling. They had spent a wonderful weekend together in the highlands, visiting local
venues of interest, eating local food, hiking back trails, touring a vineyard near Heath, and letting the boys romp free at the amusement park and arcade in Garland.

  Her thoughts of the nights with Ken on the seventh floor of the Wayfarer’s Inn in Narid brought the shudders back. He was a very nice and considerate man, a more than adequate lover, and a perfect positive influence on her son Harold. The positives were beginning to stack up for Sergeant Royal and she could only hope that he felt more than just lust for her. The last thing she wanted to do right now was fall in love with a perfect man. After waiting almost four years since the death of her husband, Max was satisfied that she had done Jerrod no dishonor this weekend. Even though her first desire for Ken had been partially alcohol induced, she regretted none of it. He had been gentle and caring and perhaps that would be enough to sustain her in the upcoming months.

  Max plopped the travel orders back on the dinette table and headed for the shower, stopping first to check her closet and the newly upgraded uniforms hanging there. She pitied the folks at the base laundry and dry cleaners considering the many uniforms they had to alter over the past few days. To each man and woman in the Navy came duty and responsibility, she thought idly, and as long as each person did his or her part, they would get through this war fine. She silently rejoiced at her luck as she flipped through her wardrobe. Sailing out on a battle cruiser was going to be challenging and rewarding at the same time.

  Boarding the boat as a lieutenant commander was also going to be a kick-ass rush.

  * * *

  His Captain’s Call completed, Davi Yorn settled into the command chair on the bridge of the Corpus Christi. Everything around him was new and clean, old and familiar. The techs at the drydock on Canton had done an amazing job refurbishing the Christi, and he marveled at the new instrumentation consoles on his control stack. Not only could he monitor all of the ship’s systems without pass-through patches from the various alcoves around the bridge, he could access the CIC directly from his chair. The bridge had undergone many modifications to bring the boat up to specs, keeping her in line with the rest of the Fleet. The changes were logical and necessary, he thought, and he was glad he had taken the time to get aboard early enough to walk the entire ship and appreciate the upgrades to her systems.

  “Captain, we have received clearance from the PA dock master,” Lieutenant Corman said from the comm alcove.

  “Thank you, Mister Corman. Mister Gertz, have department heads report in. We are ready to make way,” Yorn said.

  “Aye, captain,” his XO said. Gertz was positioned behind Yorn and to his right. She wore an integrated headset with streaming feeds from the various department heads filtering into her earpiece. One by one she got the required acknowledgements from the rest of the ship. “All departments report green boards, sir,” she said.

  “Mister Vane, I have freed the helm. Push us back.”

  “Roger, captain. Port thrusters active, releasing umbilicals, internal batteries showing green.”

  “Mister Carson, put the port feeds on the blister. Helm, watch your speed.”

  The ship shuddered slightly, its motion barely perceptible. “Matching Higgs Fields, sir. We’re on our own in zero two mikes.”

  Yorn looked at the PA dock recede on his forward blister. After a minute he could make out a few of the other ships docked radially at the port. Two huge 900,000 metric ton battle cruisers occupied the slots thirty- and sixty-degrees counter clockwise from the bay he was departing. One of those Vortex-class cruisers was soon to be commanded by his new boss, Admiral Uri Haad. He saw the hull number of the one nearest his cameras and watched as the image of the CVX-22, CNS Kona Coast fell away as Mister Vane slowly turned the nose of the Christi to starboard. It would take Yorn a few hours to get used to his new bridge crew and he was very careful not to call his new helmsman Mister Gant. Noname Gant was at the helm of the Hudson River somewhere sunward.

  Commander Milli Gertz made her rounds, checking over the shoulders of the men and women at the various consoles around the bridge. All appeared normal, everything in the green.

  She hoped, for Yorn’s sake, it would stay that way.

  * * *

  “What do you mean? How is that possible?” Vice Admiral Paine asked his IS officer.

  “It looks on the surface they all killed each other. I think the whole thing was staged,” Niki Mols said.

  “Give me the compressed version, Niki. I have to brief my new staff in ten minutes.”

  Lieutenant Commander Mols walked around the room as she explained it to him. Based on information supplied by Inskaap, a detachment of shore patrolmen searched a farmhouse near Narid and discovered three bodies. Preliminary identifications: Fraze, Zane and Coni Berger. Evidently there was some kind of struggle and they wound up shooting each other fatally. She concluded her synopsis with, “I’m taking a forensics team from the local CNIS and give the place the once-over. The lieutenant on scene reports there might have been a fourth person in that farmhouse.”

  “What makes him think that? Is he some kind of sleuth or something?”

  “Orange blood at the scene. Varson blood.”

  Paine looked at his niece. “He’s sure,” she continued. “I told him not to touch anything and I would fly up to inspect personally. I suspected Zane of trying to get to Berger, but the thing with Fraze is puzzling. He’s been missing, presumed dead, for months now. I wonder if he could have been up there all along, hiding out.”

  “Keep this office informed, Niki. I want to have a complete report on my desk no later than close of business today. Now, get your butt in gear. I have to make my meeting.”

  “Aye, aye. On the way.”

  Before she made the door he called after her. “Niki, let’s keep this information under wraps until you have all the details. If there are more people involved in this, I don’t want to spook them.”

  She agreed and left his office.

  The rot in the Admiralty just would not go away, he thought. Sooner or later this business had to be brought to an end. He pulled out his reader and made some notes to the file. He recommended getting an outside agency, perhaps someone from the Marine barracks or a group of airmen from the local ground-based air corps to go through every one of his people again. Evidently the last round of vetting had failed to catch all of the disloyals in his Fleets. Sheesh, he thought, Robi Zane was hours away from being pinned with a star. It would have been Coni Berger all over again.

  Paine put his reader in his safe and scrambled the keypad. He walked to the coatrack in the corner and retrieved his uniform coat. His eyes were drawn to his new shoulder boards.

  He would have to step up his game if he wanted to keep his three stars.

  PART SIX: The Great Black Fleet

  Chapter 36

  The door opened quickly and a lieutenant commander took two steps into the room and announced, “Admiral on the deck!”

  Haad, Fuller and Pax Curton immediately jumped from their chairs and stood at attention. Admiral Paine marched into the briefing room with a grim, determined look on his face. He was followed by two more adjutants, each of them carrying armloads of heavy notebooks.

  “At ease, gentlemen. This briefing will be informal and swift. We have so much work to do that I hesitate to find the proper starting point. Be seated.”

  Paine walked straight to the table in the front of the room and his aides passed out the written material to each of the new admirals. They were seated at three tables pushed together in the center of the room in a U shape and each man had plenty of room to spread out the offered materials. Haad and Fuller had brought their personal readers and placed them beside the pile of documents. Haad set his reader to record the meeting.

  “These Revised Colonial Navy Regulations Manuals are for your personal benefit. I know you probably have this information on your readers, but, just in case you don’t, now you each have the latest version for your perusal. Pay strict attention to the sections dealing with subordinate
s and delegation of responsibilities. You will each have command of one of the three active Fleets. Admiral Haad, you’ve been assigned the Third, Curton the Second, and Fuller, you get the First. Presently there are elements of all three circulating the voids between Elber and Haines-II and it will be your job to coordinate all Fleet movements in and out of the Belt Loop and the Fringes. Each of you will have a staff of ten officers here on Bayliss, more when this Varson nonsense is completed and eventually you will call Elber Prime your home port. Right now, though, we have to use what means are at our disposal here on Bayliss and make every effort to put an end to the hostilities with the Varson Empire as quickly as possible.”

  He paused as one of his staff officers brought in a small coffee urn and set up the machine on one of the sideboards. A yeoman brought in cups and napkins and an assortment of sweeteners and creamers.

  “Our mission, gentlemen,” he continued while the coffee perked up, “is an important one. First, we are charged with suppressing the Varson uprising; secondly, we must establish and put in place strategic guidelines to prevent this kind of war from ever happening again; and, thirdly, we have to rebuild our Fleets and maintain our staffing levels, ensuring we have the billets and the resources to properly equip them.” Paine paused for a moment and looked at the steam coming from the coffee maker. “Questions?”

  Admiral Fuller spoke next. “Sir, just so I understand you correctly, our primary focus right now should be on ending the war. Is that correct? Are you going to authorize a strike at their home planet? A nuclear strike?”

  “I am prepared to take the conflict wherever the tactical necessities demand, Admiral Fuller. The Rules of Engagement are fluid, especially after the situation on Canno. Admiral Geoff has the ultimate authority to pop the nuclear balloon, but he relies on me and my commanders to supply him with the information necessary to make that determination. Bear in mind, all of you, we have already bombed them back to horse-and-buggy days once, yet, here they are again, re-armed, resurgent, dangerous. Should this conflict escalate to the use of hydrogen weapons, the command decision would be to wipe them out. Destroy them completely, down to the last man.”