by Chris Hechtl
~<><{<^>}><>~
“We're getting additional reactions from the powers that be around the system, sir. It's … not good. I know your mother has called the switchboard at least twice,” Admiral Hill reported.
“Let her talk into the damn voice mail. Can't she see I'm busy? I'll deal with Caroline and her arrival when I'm done with the initial house cleaning,” he said.
“Apparently, you aren't going to get the time,” the Neochimp flag officer said, glancing at the vid screen in the corner of the staff room.
“And what is that supposed to mean?” Admiral Childress demanded. She pointed to the vid screen just as an ensign went over and turned off the mute and cranked up the volume.
The press secretary went forward and acknowledged the ship's arrival during a news conference.
“He's backed me into a corner now. I can't unring that bell, damn it,” Admiral Childress snarled.
“What were you planning to do? Keep them incommunicado, sir? For how long?” Rear Admiral Patty Hill demanded. She had been instantly labeled as one of Admiral Childress's factions since one of her husbands worked as a senior manager for Childress Shipwrights. She wasn't happy about being pushed into the situation she was in, but she had decided to make the most of it while she could.
She was aware that the senior admiral had gotten his second chance because certain powers had felt threatened by Caroline's previous arrival and had wanted to “set things right.” Ergo, line their own pockets while getting a stranglehold on the tech the light cruiser had brought with her.
That was all fine and dandy then. But now Caroline was back. She wasn't certain if it would work a second time. She knew the admiral had members of JAG searching for precedencies, but she wasn't in the loop on the subject matter. Whatever he was after, it was most likely an excuse to get around whatever the light cruiser had brought with her this time.
The admiral grunted then let the thought go. It didn't matter now. Besides, it could all be traced to Georgi Porgi's fumbling of the situation. He'd placed a lock on the news but he hadn't slapped the proper lid on the situation. Now it was too late. The media was already covering the celebrations from the public.
While they were distracted he needed to act. He knew it … he grimaced and checked his inbox once more. He had some of the ammo he needed but not all of it. Not quite what he wanted he thought. Most of the references the JAG team had dredged up from their files were local. Every one of them had ended up badly for the people who'd been involved, but that had been political afterwards. They'd gotten off in the courts.
“Get with JAG. I want those files, I am going to have a discussion with the president, and I need the ammunition. Tell them to focus on the second section; the third can wait a day or so.”
“Um …,” when he leveled a glare on her she nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Get to it then,” the admiral said by way of dismissal.
~<><{<^>}><>~
Admiral Childress screened the president once he'd read through the material and had written out a plan of attack. He waited patiently as the chief of staff's office and the president's secretary kept him on hold.
He tried to take such insults in stride. After all, he was calling unexpectedly. The president had a schedule; he might be out kissing babies or at another fund raiser he thought.
“Admiral? Admiral Childress? I'm surprised to hear from you given the circumstances. Are you calling to let me know about Caroline's orders?” a familiar buzzing voice asked. He blinked. Apparently, the yeoman had put the signal through and kept it live instead of putting up a wallpaper. He fought a scowl from touching his expression.
“No, Mister President, I wanted to let you know we've had a change of command here at the navy,” Admiral Childress stated.
“I see,” President K'k'R'll said. He crossed his truehands in front of him and rested his lobster-like claws on top of the desk. “I admit I am still confused how this came about given you retired some time ago and have not been in office. You do not look the same,” he stated.
“I assure you I am the same man,” the admiral replied with a brief smile. He held up his right forearm. “I have my codes to prove it.”
“I'll take your word for it. How did you get … you used the antigeriatric treatments?” the president asked. “How did you gain access since they are restricted?”
“I volunteered to test them,” the admiral said smoothly. Before the president could go further off topic, he waved a hand. “It doesn't matter now. I passed all the tests and have had my commission reactivated. I am now in charge of the navy.”
“Understood. We should meet. You only served in my cabinet briefly before your retirement,” the president said, offering the admiral an olive branch … and more importantly the opening he'd been aiming for.
“Actually, that was the second part of this call. It has come to my attention that now that we are in regular contact with the Federation government and in particular the Federation Navy chain of command, I am no longer reporting to you.”
There was a long moment of silence as the Veraxin seemed to adjust to that idea. Or he was in his species equivalent of shock, the admiral wasn't certain. He waved a tablet into the view of the video camera. “According to this I answer to Admiral Irons and the navy chain of command. I am regretfully no longer a member of your cabinet nor allowed to accept your orders. I will of course make certain we keep in contact and will make certain assets are available in case of an emergency,” the admiral stated.
“I need to see those orders.”
“It's all perfectly legal. I'm having them sent to your office right now by messenger,” the admiral stated airily.
“Admiral, civilian oversight is written both in our star system constitution as well as the federal one.”
“Well, I'm afraid federal trumps local politics Mister President. It does so every time. So, as I said, I now report to Admiral Irons. Or should I call him President Irons? I'm not certain,” he waved a hand. “I just wanted to make sure we were on the same page. Good day,” he said as he reached out and pressed the disconnect button.
He grinned, tapping his chin and mouth with the fingers of his right hand as he thought about the Veraxin's reaction. With any luck the bug would be foaming at the mouth orifice and would need to be sedated. He doubted it would actually happen, but the mental imagery definitely made his day.
Putting the president in his place was only a part of what needed to be done. Eventually he was going to have to exert control of more than the navy. He would have to exert control over the tax system to get the funding he needed if the president or legislature turned reluctant.
No matter. Should the matter come up and become troublesome he could always nullify the current government and declare himself military governor. Once he had his own people in the proper places to exert his will on the navy, no one would dare oppose him.
That was, once he dealt with a few lingering problems. “Yeoman!” he barked.
The hatch opened, and a Veraxin came scuttling in. “Admiral, sir, reporting as requested.”
“I didn't request I ordered it. Now, what passes in that tiny central nervous system some claim in part of a directive intelligence did you consider it smart to call the president as I ordered then not put a wallpaper up? And more importantly not warn me when he came on line?” he demanded, voice rising in ire.
The bug quivered. “Sir …”
~<><{<^>}><>~
Doctor Fara Windswept, elderly High Elf and leader of the sleeper stared out from her seat on the patio. The vote had been dutifully taken … not that anyone doubted the outcome. It had been unanimous. She felt an artificial breeze twitch over her skin, ruffling her hair and the hairs of some of the others with her. It also ruffled the leaves and petals of the gorgeous bushes that framed the patio.
All of the sleepers had decided to stay awake with her and live out the final stages of their lives once Caroline returned a second time. Contrary to what her ca
retakers thought, Doctor Windswept still had most of her faculties. She had just found it to her liking to ease out of her public role by pretending mental health problems. Those who knew her best knew better but kept it quiet.
“So this is it. They returned as we'd thought. I had never honestly expected the Xenos to have just up and disappeared like that. But they did. And the dark times …,” Morgan Tanaka, ancestor of Cabinet Secretary Amanda Tanaka said. She smiled.
“I know,” Doctor Ch'k'll'r'll, their medic said. The elderly Veraxin was a pale milky white with blue tints. Much of the color in his chitten had faded in his advanced age despite the medical care he like the other sleepers endured.
“Much has changed. It is a new renaissance though.”
“Agreed. One that shows promise. If they can keep it up …,” Doctor Windswept shook her head. “I for one would like to see this new blossoming. The trends lately have been worrying, especially the political trends.” Her long delicate arms reached out to touch her tea cup but then withdrew as if she'd changed her mind. Instead she turned to caress the petals of a white and blue rose. The rose bush was a rainbow rose created, or she should say re-created, by their botanist sleeper Bright Petal. The T'clock was near immobile with her age and rarely left the warmth of her greenhouses any more.
“The cynicism too,” Doctor Tron Fuyata said. Tron was their engineer, one of the last of the group. He'd been an electronics tech when Admiral Irons had arrived. He'd set-up the engineering wings at many of the colleges, many of which bore his name. He'd also taken courses and earned several honorary degrees.
“It's time. Time to hand their future back to them and their children,” Morgan said. “Time for us to step aside as all parents must do. It will be hard, but it must be done.” She smiled tiredly. “I would like to see my great-great something or others grow up this time. It is so hard to go to sleep then wake to find them old and withered or worse, gone,” she said wearily.
“Amen.”
“And time we will pay our penance for our misdeeds,” Ch'k'll'r'll clacked.
That made the group freeze and then sigh collectively.
“Hopefully, it doesn't come to that,” Morgan said. “I mean, if it does …”
“I for one am tired. They offered us the antigeriatric meds. I turned it down. Did the rest of you?” Ch'k'll'r'll asked. The others nodded. “I'm glad we are in agreement there. I think we've had enough of playing Peter Pan. It is time we face life. Time we face our actions and not hide from them in the coldness of stasis any longer. I for one want to get them off my consciences before I meet my maker.”
“Sometimes nature must have her way. We all owe the Reaper a death, preferably our own,” Tron said quietly.
“Amen,” Doctor Windswept murmured as she toyed with the delicate petals. They were quite glorious, changing color from the heart outward as they aged.
“We're leaving them in a predicament, you know that. Topping what is essentially a constitutional crisis and potential military coup with our own admissions …,” Morgan warned.
“We wait,” Doctor Windswept said regally. “We wait for the right time. I would prefer such confessions come on our death beds or after,” she admitted as she let the petal go. “I know it is the coward in me.” She placed her long hand over her heart gently and bowed her head.
“To not want to face the disappointment?” Morgan asked, clearly aware of her fellow sleeper's thoughts.
Doctor Windswept closed her eyes in pain. She had thought she would be at peace with the decision, but she felt fresh pain. “Yes, and their anger.”
“Yes, there will be that too and confusion,” Tron said quietly.
“It can't be helped,” Ch'k'll'r'll stated. “They have to know. It is best to come from us before others find it. It is only a matter of time before someone reads the histories and compares them ….”
“Enough,” Doctor Windswept said, looking out to the window. “It isn't something we need to deal with right away.”
“No, but soon. Before the last of us passes,” Tron murmured. He smiled. “Any bets on who that will be?”
“If you really follow-up on your threat to go grav skiing, we all know who it will be,” Morgan said dryly.
“I've been a good boy long enough,” Tron said. “Scandalizing people will be fun. Besides,” he smiled. “I'm still a bachelor. Now that we're awake and not involved in the running of the republic I can take a well-earned vacation,” he said as he stretched. “And maybe find a nice lady or two …,” he smirked at Morgan.
“Oh, go on with you,” she said in mock amusement. “As if you'll die of a heart attack, you old goat,” she said.
“Yes, but what a way to go,” Tron said with a grin. He turned to their Veraxin compatriot. “What about you, old friend?”
“I'm afraid I stopped passing on my genes to the next generation far too long ago to care about such things,” Ch'k'll'r'll said.
“Can't get it up, eh?” Tron said. He rose and stretched again. He was fit but withered by age. He was also bald and heavily wrinkled.
“You creak when you do that. Keep doing it, and you are liable to fall over,” Morgan said. Tron pretended to totter and fall in her direction.
“Timber …,” he said. She pushed him off. He recovered and chuckled.
“Go on with you then. The others though …,” Morgan turned to Windswept.
“They are awake. They are welcome, but many are finding it difficult to adapt. And we all know some were close to death anyway,” Windswept murmured.
“I know. That's another harsh thing, to lose so many friends,” Morgan said quietly, looking at the flowers. “I know you are all philosophical about it all, how life blooms eternal and all that, but it is still hard to witness.”
“It has been one of our burdens. But not for much longer,” Windswept murmured, staring at the plant next to her once more.
~<><{<^>}><>~
While the news that Caroline had returned made the rounds in the media, Veraxin President K'k'R'll called in his Chimeran, Attorney General Raphael Koitz, and several members of his cabinet in order to discuss the sudden unexpected situation in the navy. “Obviously we screwed up in letting Childress back in. We kept our hand out since it was a local affair and certain parties asked us to do so. We were promised he'd play ball with us if he got in. That was a lie.”
“Talk about biting the hand that feeds him,” Chariff Wattage said, shaking his head.
“Don't bet on it. He's not acting alone, he's got powerful patrons lined up behind him,” L'r'kk, the president's Veraxin chief of staff said in disgust.
“You think they are calling the shots and he's just a puppet?” the Neochimp treasury secretary demanded, silver fur rising in agitation.
“Omar Childress might bow to his mother but only barely. He's no one's puppet. He kissed his mother's ass because if he didn't she'd write him out of his inheritance, and he wouldn't have gotten control of the family's controlling interest in Childress Shipwrights.”
“But as it stands the old battleaxe has gone on living,” Spencer said wryly. “I bet he's been pissed over that. He probably thought she'd step aside when he was forced to retire. Boy was he wrong.”
“Possibly. Okay, probably that was what happened. And since she's left him cooling his heels waiting for her to die, he's seen this as his opportunity to rise back to the top. With of course some nice juicy contracts to his family's business if they backed him,” Chariff said.
“And the antigeriatric potions? I'm still at a loss as to how he got his hands on them,” Raphael said in disgust. His skin color rippled in anger. “That shouldn't have happened. He was out, retired. How …?”
“He had help obviously,” L'r'kk said scathingly. “We're still looking through our files, but I'm betting he had inside help. Enough admirals are on the payroll of the industrialists, you know; it’s how their game is played.”
“And he used that game against us,” the president said, buzzing angr
ily. All eyes and eyestalks fell on the president. “This is an intolerable situation. Raphael, tell me some good news. Please tell me he doesn't have a legal leg to stand on. Spencer,” he waved to his in house legal counsel, “isn't certain. In fact, he's pretty sure we're screwed.”
The Neomutt counselor looked at the AG with raw appeal in his expression.
Raphael straightened up in his seat, inhaled then exhaled slowly. “I and my staff obviously haven't had the time to go over the files he's presented. The synopses though … he has a point,” the attorney general said.
“You're saying he's what, he's right? He can walk all over us and do what he wants? Are you serious?” Chariff demanded, eyes bulging in indignation.
“In a word, yes,” the AG said with a grimace. “Essentially, it boils down to we're local, he's not,” the AG said bluntly. “Up until now, he's looked to us since there was no other civilian oversight available. Now that Admiral Irons is in the loop, Admiral Childress answers to a higher power.”
“Admiral Irons and this Commodore Logan set the recent precedent in Pyrax. They essentially ignored the local government after it was established, except in emergency situations. We don't have all the details about it though.”
“I believe Admiral Irons set himself up as military governor initially, but then handed over the governorship to an elected person once they got the local constitution set up … and then that person conspired with most of the other senior elected people to frame the admiral and exile and or allegedly attempt to kill him,” Raphael explained, playing with his tablet in his hands.
“I bet the admiral regretted handing over the reins then and ever since,” Chariff said in the ensuing silence.
“So, this Logan told them to piss up a rope, most likely to keep them away from the military and we have to use that as precedence?”
“Life just isn't fair it seems,” Raphael muttered. All eyes turned to the AG once more. “I know it sucks, but that is the way it is. Admiral Childress gave us additional precedencies and,” the AG frowned as he scanned the document on his tablet. “According to my staff, he also pointed out the federal precedencies to top it off. He has us over the proverbial barrel.”