Enemy of my Enemy (Horatio Logan Chronicles Book 1)

by Chris Hechtl

  “Yes, sir,” Jeremy said, face working as he realized Horatio was being serious. He nodded. “We'll miss you, sir.”

  “I'm not gone yet,” Horatio said in exasperation. That earned a chuckle from the group. As the chuckle died down, Saul and Admiral Subert's icons logged on. “Admiral on the deck!” Horatio intoned, instinctively coming to attention despite being a half a million kilometers away.

  “Can the formalities, we've got some work. Admiral Sienkov may or may not be sitting in on this sometime. If and when he does, give him the respect of his rank, but he is to be an observer only. Remember that. We'll operate as we usually do. Now, Commander Ch'n'x, why don't you start us off with Ops,” the admiral said.

  The Veraxin clacked her mandibles in a signal of agreement and then started her department's SITREP.

  Horatio sat back and listened with half an ear as the familiar steps of the meeting began.

  ~<><{<^>}><>~

  The reaction from the Bek and Nuevo delegates in Pyrax was a mix of surprise as well as dismay that the Federation was gone but admiration of determination to rebuild. “What took so long?” Admiral Zekowitz demanded. “Surely they were better off than we were!”

  “Apparently not,” Moira Sema, Lieutenant Governor of Bek and senior civilian delegate, replied dryly. “I talked with a few people while we were en route. They all said the same thing; they lost the keys to the replicators too. Admiral Irons is the lynchpin. He was what they were waiting for. With him, all this became possible once more.”

  “Damn,” Admiral Zekowitz murmured, looking at the yard and industrial complexes. “So they weren't kidding when they said they've built this in what, ten years?” he whistled in appreciation.

  “So, he was the key to our keeping what tech we've got and this? It is indeed hard to believe,” Moira replied.

  “Believe it. I've never met the man, but my great-great-great something or other grandfather did. He's … impressive,” the rear admiral said, looking at her reflection in the window briefly.

  “Good to know,” Moira replied, tucking the little tidbit away. She ran her fingers through her close-cropped blue hair. It was a dominant trait her family had—that, a gift for piloting, and a weird interest in eye jewelry.

  The rear admiral turned to her. “Are you still going to press Irons to become secretary of state? You realize it might be too soon, right?”

  She shrugged the thought off. “Why not? I've done fine as lieutenant governor but Bill isn't ready to step down anytime soon and you and I both know it. So, I can … broaden my horizons.” She smiled coyly. He snorted.

  “You've always looked onward and outward. Never really happy about the limited political spectrum. Always pushing to get the hyperdrive tech sorted out so we could go back to trading with Nuevo.”

  “True,” Moira replied. “And now we've got that. And with a bit of work we'll send back an ansible and a full tech kit to rebuild, to bring Bek up to Federation standards.”

  “I know. I can't wait. It sucks though that we're going to be here and not there to see it.”

  “I don't see it that way,” Moira replied with a small smile as she played with her fingertips. “I see it as being able to see the galaxy. To be there, at the beginning to help get it going again. We've been doing it in Bek for centuries; it's time we show them what a little Yankee stubbornness and ingenuity can do,” she said firmly.

  “You go, girl,” he said softly.

  …And Secretary of State will let me jump into the political arena nicely. A little threat of dragging our feet in signing on might get me it if persuasion doesn't, Moira thought. And once I've got it, I'll be set for a nice term to grow into the position near the seat of power while being exposed to the ins and outs on one side and the actual voters on the other before I take on bigger and better things, she thought as the admiral departed.

  ~<><{<^>}><>~

  “Commodore, do you have a moment?” a familiar female voice said as Horatio opened the audio-only link.

  “Um …”

  “This is Moira if you are wondering. I … well, I hate to ask, but I need a bit more than a moment,” Moira stated.

  Horatio frowned thoughtfully. “What is up, ma'am?”

  “I … well, this is going to sound a bit forward, but I might as well be blunt. I need a date.”

  “A date? Me, ma'am?” Horatio asked, eyes instinctively going wide as his eyebrows went skyward.

  “A date, yes, you, sir,” Moira teased wickedly.

  “When, ma'am?” Horatio asked, accessing and bringing up his schedule.

  “Tonight. I hope it's not too late, I know you are a busy guy. I have to admit though, I checked in with a few people to see how busy, so you can't wiggle off the hook so easily,” she said in a teasing voice.

  Horatio blinked again and pursed his lips as he sat backwards. He thought long and hard for a moment before he answered. “Horatio? Are you still there?” she asked.

  “I'm still here,” he admitted.

  “You are awfully quiet. Did I catch you at a bad time? You know, perhaps this was a bad idea …”

  “No, I can do it. I'm just surprised that's all,” he said slowly. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Well, I heard you were on Anvil, and well, I got these tickets and a dinner reservation, but I'm without an escort. I'd like a big strong man, preferably one in uniform to fend off any of the locals,” she said wickedly.

  He snorted and then nodded. “All right. You want to avoid entanglements; I can help with that I suppose. When? I'm in the yard now. I go off shift in …,” he checked the clock. “Okay, well, I was supposed to go off shift a half hour ago. I think I can knock off shortly.”

  “Good because you need to get to Anvil, and the show is in two hours,” she said.

  Horatio blinked and then whistled silently. He was going to have to hustle to shower and change if he wanted to catch the next shuttle. He nodded. “I'll be there,” he said.

  “Thank you,” she said. “Um, how do I find you? I mean on Anvil,” she said.

  He smiled. “I've got that part covered. When you arrive go to the information desk and wait. I'll be on the navy shuttle, and I'll meet you there,” he said.

  “Good. Don't be late,” she warned.

  He smiled. “I wouldn't dream of keeping a lady waiting. I believe that's your privilege,” he teased.

  She chuckled and disconnected the circuit.

  ~<><{<^>}><>~

  Horatio was a bit more nervous than he'd like, but he managed to stifle the jitters as he walked through the light crowd to the information desk. He didn't have to look far for her; she was approaching from the direction of the restrooms at almost the same pace.

  She was a vision of loveliness with her hair done up, a clutch bag under one arm, and a red evening gown on. It glittered and sparkled with gold accents. She was wearing gold earrings and gold colored high heels. She had a gold necklace on, and gold bracelets to complete her ensemble. He noted her checking him out with her eyes. After a moment, he saw a gleam of approval. He felt a sense of relief at that. She smiled slightly with just a trace of mirth in it to make him feel his blood pump a bit more. Down boy, he reminded himself.

  She smiled coyishly as she noted his reaction as she took his arm. “Just as I'd expected, Commodore. You should do just fine,” she said softly to him.

  “The show, I'm guessing it is Hoover?” She nodded. “Okay, it's in the high decks. I'll get us there,” he said, indicating the lift.

  “I see. High decks?” she asked as they stood in line with other people as they waited for the lift to arrive.

  “High decks. The upper decks of the station above us were reserved for the richest people in the solar system. Some still are. The movers and shakers who keep the station running are down below,” he said, pointing down.

  “Sort of class stratification?” she asked, eyeing him.

  He grimaced slightly. She frowned. “Did I hit a nerve?”

  He no
ted a few people were covertly listening in. “I … in a way. I was one of those people down below for nearly a century.”

  “Oh …,” Moira frowned and then nodded. “I'd forgotten that about your history. If this bothers you …,” She indicated they could leave.

  “No no, I've put most of it behind me at this point. I've been here many times, though I usually don't linger long. Duty calls,” he said with a slight smile. “I'm glad you called me on a Saturday night though.”

  “Oh, because you have the weekend off?”

  “Well,” he drawled as the lift door opened and people spilled out. He stepped in with her and others. “No, but I do need the time off. Sometimes I forget that,” he admitted.

  “Oh,” she said thoughtfully. “Well, you know the saying, all work and no play …,” she teased wickedly.

  Horatio snorted. He wondered briefly if a similar situation between April O'Neill and Admiral Irons was how they'd started their rocky relationship. “It has been a lot of work. Up until now, I really haven't had someone to enjoy the time off with, so I hadn't bothered much.”

  “So, this is long overdue. Good. You can rest and recharge a bit. Though, my hauling you around this station had better not be too restful,” she said with a familiar grin. He smiled slightly. Her eyes narrowed. “And if I catch you napping during the Broadway show …,” she warned him ominously.

  He chuckled, hands up in surrender.

  “Good,” she said with a grin. “You can put your hands down now,” she said as the lift bumped and pinged softly indicating they were arriving at their intended destination. “I'm curious how this is going to go. I wasn't really impressed with the programming on the wall screen,” she admitted as they filed out of the lift car.

  “Well, it's still a work in progress,” Horatio said, trying not to appear defensive to her implied slight.

  “Well, we'll see what the night brings for entertainment. And if I don't find what I want here, well, there are other avenues we can pursue, sailor,” she said huskily.

  “Yes, ma'am,” he said.

  She chuckled as he guided her to the theater district.

  ~<><{<^>}><>~

  Hoover wasn't really his cup of tea, but the singing and dancing had enough energy in it to keep him awake and engaged. It was amusing to see someone put on such a show. It had only passing resemblance to reality though. History wasn't his strong suit, so he wasn't certain the time period the story and cast was set in. The giant rifles they called Tommy guns seemed intriguing though. The cast seemed to use them like some sort of machine gun. He didn't have any problem with the morale of beating the crooks, though he wasn't certain about the implied violence. At least they'd kept it mostly off stage.

  After the show, he ushered his blushing date out and then followed her soft directions to the restaurant she'd booked. They'd been seated and enjoyed a light dinner. He was enchanted to have a lovely woman on his arm. He'd gone stag for a long time since Shelby had left the nest. After awhile, he'd given up such pursuits and only occasionally would visit a bar or restaurant when the moor or an occasion suited. Having a lovely woman with him was a rare treat it seemed.

  He reminded himself that he could have called an escort at any time before but he hadn't seen the need. Now he was glad he hadn't. Sometimes the best things came to those who waited.

  And if it was one thing he'd learned in his 140 years of life, it was to be patient. As he looked around the room during dessert, he realized they were being watched. His instincts honed in on a couple of people murmuring. He frowned thoughtfully as he recognized one, a reporter for KNOX news.

  So, the media was out in force he thought. And they'd obviously staked the show or restaurant out for their gossip columns. Apparently, news was slow. He checked his feed and was gratified to find they hadn't made the news yet. Good. He'd be a bit put out to find a live feed covering his love life.

  Love life, he thought with a mental snort that almost became a real one. You're two or three times her age Horatio, act like it. She probably thought you reminded her of her father or something he thought as they finished with dessert.

  “No more, thank you, I'm stuffed,” Moira said as she pushed the menu away.

  “Very well, ma'am,” the waitress said after checking with Horatio. “I'll be back with the check then,” she murmured as she retreated.

  Horatio paid the bill and then they exited.

  “Don't look now, but we're being followed,” he murmured to her as the reporters hastily paid their bill and followed as well.

  Moira turned slightly to adjust her heel and then looked up as she leaned against him. “I see them. Are they trouble?” she murmured. “Real live gangsters?” she asked.

  He snorted. “Hardly. Crooks of a different sort I guess you could call them. The media,” he said.

  She frowned but didn't respond. She pretended to pick a rock out of her shoe and then deposit it in a trash bin with a flick of her fingers in passing. “Do they bother you?” she asked. She hoped not; she didn't want that sort of a scene. She'd arranged their coverage carefully but wanted a positive impression.

  “No, I just don't like voyeurs,” he admitted. “A lovely lady such as yourself deserves her privacy.”

  “Such a gentleman defending a lady's honor,” she said with an approving twinkle. She stroked his arm gently with her fingers.

  “Sorry, call me old fashioned,” he said.

  “No, no, I like it,” she said.

  “So, where to? Do we see the sites or did you have something else in mind?” he asked.

  “Well …,” she glanced back at their entourage and then to him. “I suppose we could be naughty and lose them in the crowd,” she said mischievously.

  “That'd be fun,” he admitted. “Hard to do unless it was a big one or we separated though,” he said thoughtfully.

  “Hmm,” she said with a smirk on her face. He couldn't help but smile back. “You're up for it?” she challenged.

  “Yes, ma'am,” he said.

  They managed to shake their tail and then giggled like kids getting away with something as they met up breathlessly at the lifts. “That was fun,” she said.

  “It was indeed,” Horatio admitted as he saw a few familiar faces around them. A few people stared at them. Apparently his escort raised some eyebrows.

  “Problem?” Moira asked as she looked around them.

  “No,” he said.

  She pulled him into the lift car and then pushed him against the wall. As the doors closed she leaned in and kissed him. “Good,” she murmured. Moira played with his lapel and admitted softly that she always liked a man in uniform and was a sucker for older, more distinguished men.

  “And I'm not letting this one out of my clutches anytime soon,” she murmured huskily as she pulled his head relentlessly down to hers.

  She had to stifle his chuckles with another kiss.

  Chapter 3

  After his brief workout and his morning shower, Admiral Zekowitz was curious about what passed for the morning news in Pyrax. He found the remote easily enough; at least some things still had them he noted. He used the device to turn the wall screen on and then went to get his breakfast out of the microwave.

  He unwrapped the steaming sandwich and put it on a small plate, then took a seat behind the juice on the small coffee table. He let the sandwich cool a moment. He sipped at the juice and then frowned. It clearly wasn't fresh since it had come out of a food replicator, but it wasn't too bad.

  He flipped through the channels, annoyed at the commercialism until the first show caught his attention. It immediately intrigued him. Bek had thousands of channels. Some of the most popular were the old Federation programming channels. But this one … it was new. Or newer, since it was on in the early morning, most likely it was syndicated. Come to think of it, he noted it was taking place on a planet …Yeah, Seti Alpha 4, he noted. He slowly nodded in understanding. Definitely syndicated given the time stamp, most likely it came in from on
e of the neighboring star systems.

  Did they have enough bandwidth to broadcast it? He didn't think so … he frowned thoughtfully as he took another sip of juice and then set it down.

  He sat on the edge of the couch and ate his breakfast egg muffin sandwich while puzzling out the adventures of Duke Colombo, the bloodhound bounty hunter slash private investigator. The Neo bloodhound was tall, fat, and wore a trench coat. You couldn't see his eyes, and he had a snuffling way with how he talked. He was also always apologetic. He was a bit sloppy, but as they hit the climax, the dog managed to trap his opponent—in this case a pirate who'd been hiding on the planet—then broken the man's alibi and evasions with his devastatingly precise logic. The dog had a memory like a steal trap to go with his incredible nose it seemed.

  He shook his head as the pirate's resolve crumbled and he hung his head. Such simplistic Hollywood nonsense, but the public ate it up. It wasn't anywhere close to reality, but they still loved it, he thought in amusement as he brushed crumbs off his front.

  When his wrist comm pinged, he grimaced and shut the feed off. “Yeah, sorry,” he muttered, feeling a bit guilty about the wasted time.

  ~<><{<^>}><>~

  Vice Admiral Sienkov managed to catch the morning news feed. More importantly, despite his age he'd been one of the first to volunteer to get full implants, though he was still coming to grips with them. If someone made another joke about teaching an old dog new tricks again, he swore he'd keel haul them.

  He'd gotten his ID implants on Caroline and had mastered them with some patience and effort on his part. He'd found that repetition and usage tended to make it so much easier.

  He'd also learned a long time ago about how to gather intelligence … and he'd loved that his wall screen had a built-in computer that allowed him to program a filter. It had bookmarked every story about him and the other Bekians. Most was just rehash of the same stuff, but anything new immediately jumped to the top and got his attention.