by Chris Hechtl
“Huh,” Percy said. “The question then is, why? Are they a turtle indeed? Slow and methodical? Money issues? Or they are husbanding what we brought them thinking we weren't going to make it back?”
“I don't know,” Bailey said, fur slowly dropping. “I hope like hell we find out and get things rolling properly soon. I didn't come here to scratch my ass and look stupid. I could do that at home, thank you very much,” the Neochimp growled.
Percy started to open his mouth, but a dark look from the Neochimp made him close it with a clop. He knew the chimp, knew he habitually tossed people around the ship's salle. He also knew the chimp had trained under Admiral Irons and wasn't afraid of challenging anyone to a bout no matter the rank. He slowly shook his head. “I think it's your problem, or more likely, the admiral and commodore's. We're just worker bees. Try to remember that and don't let it get personal,” he said. “We don't want to run around like a bull in a china shop stepping on feet and pissing the wrong people off. That'll just make the job even harder.”
“Right,” Bailey drawled. He puffed his cheeks in and out. “I doubt we're going to have that problem, but I'll try to play nice.”
“Oooh, boy,” Percy drawled.
“I did say try,” Bailey replied with a sniff.
~<><{<^>}><>~
Lieutenant Grant entered the wardroom and noted the only occupant was the XO. She looked up, but he didn't immediately address her so she went back to looking at the tablet in front of her. Undoubtedly, she was parsing out the reports for later he thought. Or going over yesterday’s and spell checking them, he thought with a mental grimace.
He'd thought that Ensign Caroline had been the bane of his existence with the paperwork. Apparently, she'd just been the go-between. The XO liked to have all the paperwork kept up-to-date right up to the minute. And she wasn't shy about landing on anyone who fell behind, like if oh, a certain engineer decided to get his hands dirty and lend a hand in a life support repair project to get out of said paperwork.
They'd had come to a bit of an understanding though after her quarters had developed a series of mystery ailments. She'd finally backed off on being totally anal retentive. He'd made certain her repairs got the priority she'd wanted.
He looked over the snacks laid out by the steward but wrinkled his muzzle. Humans and chocolate he thought. Didn't they know it was bad for dogs? He shook his head and picked up a piece of teriyaki jerky.
“That's going to spoil your dinner, you know,” Katherine said mildly, not looking up from her present occupation.
“I'm peckish,” the chief engineer said. He took a smaller helping than he'd initially intended and then snagged a water bottle. He took both over to the table and took a seat.
“Paperwork all up-to-date?”
“Just finished, ma'am,” he said.
“Good.”
He chewed the jerky for a bit before she finally looked up and set the tablet aside. “Okay, out with it. What's on your mind?”
“Does something have to be on my mind to get a snack?” he asked innocently.
She snorted. “Ordinarily, no. I'll just make sure you run it off with the PT tomorrow,” she said. He put on his best wounded puppy expression. She snorted. “Don't give me that. Spill. You look like you're ready to explode already,” she said, crossing her hands in front of her.
He snorted. Apparently, he couldn't fool her. He took a sip of water than swallowed. When she didn't relent in her stare, he felt ice travel up and down his spine instead of through his throat. He coughed and then decided to relent and give up holding manfully out as a lost cause. “Apparently, Commodore Logan isn't too impressed with Bek,” Percy said mildly. The XO looked up at him.
“Oh?” she demanded.
“Or I should say, their lack of progress,” the Neodog shook his head. “I can't say I blame him.”
“What specifically did he say?” Commander Dvosky demanded.
The Neodog shrugged. “It didn't come direct from him. I was talking to some of the people who are supposed to be left behind here. They seemed a bit put out that the groundwork hadn't been laid for them.”
“Some people expect it easy from the beginning,” the XO said. “But this is scuttlebutt?” she demanded.
The Neodog's ears flicked. “I got it from one of them,” he said.
“But we'll just file it under the heading of scuttlebutt. So, that being said, let's not brood it about the ship, right?” she asked, eyeing him severely.
He slowly nodded. “Yes, ma'am,” he said, looking away.
“Good. We don't want it to spoil any first impressions the Bekians will form of the commodore and the others after all,” the commander said. She grimaced. “But I tend to agree with them. Something is definitely off here. They have their work cut out for them it seems,” she observed.
“Yes, ma'am, it seems they do,” Percy murmured softy.
~<><{<^>}><>~
Zek listened to the media reports with half an ear. He was more into the search he'd initiated. He'd finally come to grips with his implants; hell, he'd even started to like having them. For instance, he'd dusted off some of his nascent coding skills to forge a spider bot. Well, okay, he admitted. He'd pulled the template off the ship's web and plugged in the gaps to make it work with Bekian electronic networks. But it wasn't total copy and paste; he'd had to dredge up some coding skills to get it to work right.
He'd set the bot's filters wide to pull in the stories about Caroline, the outer Federation, and Caroline's most recent return. He reset his time limits to stories after the ship had departed and then filtered the bookmarked stories from her recent return into another folder for later perusal.
What he found was good news in theory. People hadn't been happy about the ship's departure but they'd come to accept it. The baseline trend of understanding duty was there. There was a little undercurrent of resentment about sending ships and sailors into the outer dark to fight in a war they weren't involved in. Fight and die, he noted. Not to mention the expense of it all.
But there was also a lot of relief over the disappearance of the Xenos. That he fully understood and concurred with. There had been a lot of discussion about retiring the fleet, either mothballing it or pruning it back severely. He understood that too, though he resented it. So far the brass had staved it off, though they had been forced to weather a series of budget cuts in the recent financial quarters.
He followed a link to see how they'd handled it. They'd allowed some people to retire, good. A few had been retained a bit … they'd reset the filters higher to get a better product. They'd also become pickier about who they allowed into the navy. Okay.
They'd also mothballed some of the oldest ships. He frowned thoughtfully and then nodded. It made sense. The hulls might be good, but they were old. Age was never a good thing with a starship. Over time wear became an increasing concern as did metal fatigue from the various forces subjected to the ship's hull and frame. They'd lost several ships over the centuries due to fatigue. He could understand the desire to put those ships permanently out to pasture.
He flipped over to the research on Caroline's most recent return. That was interesting he noted. People were happy, not as happy as they had been before, but relieved she'd returned. All good. Then he caught a request for comment from the new Naval Secretary. The name made him pause, and then re-read it. When he clicked the link he saw a younger but still familiar face sitting across from the reporter doing the interview.
And that person was in an admiral's uniform. He swore. “Ah, hell,” he muttered darkly, suddenly seeing a far bleaker future.
Chapter 20
The shake-ups in the senior staff and working their way through the fresh orders from Admiral Irons via Caroline had taken time. It hadn't been a stalling tactic, but it had amounted to the same thing. Once he had a grasp of the orders, Admiral Childress ran it past the officers closest to him.
“What do we do with them now?” Vice Admiral Sherman Draken demanded
acidly. The Chimeran was his new operations officer, supplanting Georgi Pashenkov who was in limbo. “It's like a bad penny, they just had to turn up now,” the red Chimeran shook his elongated head. He had no idea how many plans Caroline and her passengers had just ruined or altered, though he could probably guess. He knew he wasn't the only one who was vindictive enough to take it out on the ship and her passengers. He just hoped the others had a sense to be subtle about going about it.
It was tempting to just lose the ship. Pull the crew, tear her apart, and when Irons eventually sent a ship, say they never saw her. Tempting, but it wouldn't work; the entire star system knew she'd arrived.
Doing something to make certain she didn't make a return trip was also tempting. Many had thought that the ship would have been lost in the rapids after all. They could help that along, but it could blow up in their faces as well.
At the moment they just had to play the hand that they were dealt he knew.
“There is one small silver lining,” Admiral Childress said almost whimsically. Caroline's sudden arrival had facilitated his return to power. He knew he would have gotten there eventually, but their distraction had brought about Georgi's downfall sooner. He was regretting allowing the ship's crew to disembark however.
“Oh? How do you see that?” Sherman demanded, eyeing the latest news report. The public was back to throwing parades in the crew of Caroline's honor, with or without them.
“At least Yorgi didn't return. Nor did Miss Sema. For that alone we can be ever grateful.”
Sherman grunted. “Yeah, we can count our blessings there I suppose. He knew better than to return.”
“You'd think Zek would have gotten the point. I thought we made it clear enough,” Admiral Hill mused.
“Apparently, it wasn't up to him. You know, that whole orders and chain of command thing,” Omar said dryly.
“Touché,” Sherman replied, clearly nettled by the pointed reminder. He like many of the other officers were still coming to grips with having someone higher than them all of a sudden. That person being Irons was a two-edged sword.
“I know one thing, putting either one or both of them in charge of the yards is a nonstarter. The question is; what do we do with them?” Admiral Hill asked carefully. “And how do we go about countermanding Admiral Irons' orders in such a way that it doesn't turn around and bite us in the ass later? Right now I don't see it,” she said, shaking her simian head.
“Oh, we can play games on our end. And we are a bit far out for him. We can corrupt the files, do all sorts of things,” Sherman said nastily.
“Corrupt the files can work as an excuse for us I suppose. But Caroline has a copy of the orders. Wanna bet so does Zek and this Logan? Not to mention the other officers on board? That defense won't fly for long,” Admiral Hill argued. She looked directly at the Ops officer.
The vice admiral stared at her, willing her to back down with his golden basilisk gaze, but she didn't look away. Finally, he grunted in irritation and looked away. He pretended to use his tongue to get at something in his predator teeth.
The rear admiral smiled ever so slightly in triumph. It hadn't been easy, like looking into the eyes of a red snake or dragon, but she'd managed it. She wasn't certain what had possessed Sherman's ancestors to alter their High Elf genetics into something approaching a dragon. He had an elongated skull and muzzle, red iridescent skin that glittered like scales, long limbs, claws, golden slitted eyes, and backward facing horns.
It could be their name she thought, Draken. Drake. She shook her head slightly and turned to their boss.
“We can give Caroline's crew liberty. Tell the passengers we're still processing the orders and for them to take some much needed time off to get acclimated,” Omar said thoughtfully. “Unload the ship in the meantime; we can process what we want to keep from the manifest.”
Of course the choicest bits would go to his supporters, Admiral Hill thought. The stuff that no one wanted to get out would be warehoused in a secure facility like the rest.
“Figure out something to do with the officers. I understand one of them is a professor?” the admiral asked.
“Yes, sir. A Veraxin, V'l'r. He's here to teach hyperspace navigation courses.”
“Fine. I suppose we can slot him in easily enough. The medics …,” Omar grimaced.
“The other department heads are going to have to be involved. We can have them tested; that will stall things longer. They haven't passed our medical bar, that sort of thing,” Sherman suggested slyly.
“Whatever it takes,” Omar stated. “Bury them in red tape while we finish getting a handle on the situation,” he stated.
“Yes, sir,” Sherman replied. He glanced at the Neochimp rear admiral. She bobbed her own nod of support.
~<><{<^>}><>~
“He's not letting them talk? And he hasn't let anyone talk to them. Obviously people are starting to wonder why. I wonder how long he's going to play this out?” President K'k'R'll asked.
“I don't know, sir,” L'r'kk replied, clacking his mandibles. “We're in the dark like everyone else.” He signaled second-level agitation. “I know that Childress's supporters in the media corporations have tried to keep a lid on it, but it's not working. It's starting to creep into the forums and blogs. People are wondering what is going on, and they are starting to take notice of the shake-ups in the navy. For the moment, he's spinning it off like they are trying to process the orders.”
“Right,” Lars Thurgunsson drawled sarcastically. The elderly senator was the chairman of several vital committees including the military oversight and the Industrial board. Childress's rebellion had caught him out, and he wasn't at all happy about it. The news was making the rounds in the senate. Supporters of Childress were starting to come out; some were pointing to Admiral Irons and his orders, saying he had ordered it.
Since they didn't have confirmation, that was obviously speculation.
“I wonder what they brought with them this time?” Doctor Q'r'll asked thoughtfully. The chief medical officer had been fascinated by the modern tech Caroline had brought the first time around, but later appalled by the reliance on nanotech. She'd supported putting most of that technology into storage for the time being. “And what has Childress chasing his tail and reluctant to act?”
“I'm wondering the same thing too. Isn't there an ancient saying about beware Greeks bearing gifts?” L'r'kk asked.
Senator Thurgunsson nodded. “Terran. I believe it refers to the Trojan horse.”
“In this case, I think the gifts they are bringing aren't just double edged; they have strings as well. I also think their expectations will be high … and will not be fulfilled,” the president said.
“I too. The question is, what do we do about it? Ever since Caroline came the last time the military has been in flux. Some of the old guard have returned from retirement, and shaken things up. We thought we'd be able to rein in defense spending.”
“Ha!” L'r'kk said scathingly. “They've cut back on production, finishing only the hulls that are past 50 percent, but that's all we've managed to get out of them. The funds are being diverted into studies and planning for the starships they were supposed to be making. But of course they haven't been doing it. And we can't do a damn thing to stop it; they've got powerful patrons in congress.” He turned a glare on the senator. The human spread his hands apart.
“Exactly. We can't. And they have pointed out that they no longer respond to us. We're not in their chain of command. It is highly frustrating,” the president said, deflecting some of the ire away from the senator.
“And now Caroline has returned with fresh orders. I think we need to get a copy of them … since we never saw a copy of the previous orders. Not a copy we could trust at any rate,” L'r'kk said sourly.
“True, a copy direct from the ship,” the president stated. “Make sure we do get a copy. We'll approach one of the ship's senior staff directly and outside the chain of command if possible.”
His secretary came into the room and looked around the door. “Sir, Caroline's crew has been released for liberty. The ship is being unloaded. We're getting questions in the press room. The press secretary needs to know how to handle it. She'd like a statement.”
“And we need to finish formulating one,” the chief of staff replied. The Veraxin looked at the president. “Obviously we welcome Caroline's return. We are glad they managed the perilous trip through the rapids safely a third time. A mix of excitement? Or keep it cool and professional?” L'r'kk asked, staring at his boss with all four eye stalks expectantly.
The senior Veraxin signaled first-degree assent. His antenna twitched then he gave a human style nod. “A bit of both. We are eager to welcome our friends from outside the nexus. Keep it simple since we don't know everything yet. We'll see how the military plays it.”
“Yes, sir.” L'r'kk replied. He turned to the aide. “You heard the president. Draft a response based on that and run it past us within a half hour.”
“Yes, sir,” the woman said. She nodded and quickly retreated.
“And see if we can get a meeting with Captain Perth. If he's even still in charge,” the president stated. The chief of staff nodded. “Or one of the other officers, someone who knows what the hell is going on,” he said.
“Yes, sir.”
“What do we tell Nibs, sir?” Doctor Q'r'll asked.
“We sent her an encrypted transmission yesterday. It will be six weeks before we get a reply back. We're sending her daily updates, but until we see how this goes, I think we should hold off. Wait until this evening when the dust settles,” the president stated.
“Yes, sir.”
~<><{<^>}><>~
Admiral Childress nodded politely as the last of their group filed into his family's den. The servants poured them refreshments then withdrew, closing the massive four-meter-tall oak doors behind them.