Enemy of my Enemy (Horatio Logan Chronicles Book 1)

by Chris Hechtl

  “Quite all right, ma'am. We all find our little ways to help us get through the day differently,” he said with a tight smile.

  “Hang in there, Lieutenant,” she said with a flick of her ears as she finished her snack and departed.

  ~<><{<^>}><>~

  Horatio was grateful for Pietro's contact with BuPers but wasn't quite sure what to make of it. He'd thought about playing the “I'll scratch your back if you scratch mine” game but had decided it would be more productive for the long run if he didn't exact a price from the commander.

  She'd sent him a list of names and qualifications. He had processed it but had decided a bit of out-of-the box thinking was in order. But in order to make sure he was on the right track, he decided he needed to have a heart-to-heart with someone else.

  He finally tracked down the one man who might be able to do something about the mess he was in. He was frustrated by the complete lack of progress in modernizing the shipyards and ships but did his best not to let his seething temper get the better of him. He needed to vent; he knew it. It was just so stupid, he thought as he made his way through the temporary office to see his target.

  Lieutenant Si nodded to him and then made a show of waving him in. “He's expecting you, sir. You only have a few minutes though; we're behind schedule,” she said.

  “All right,” he said. He'd take what he could get he thought. He knocked first and then entered the office.

  He didn't bother to look around; the office was a clone of his own—small, spartan, with just the basic furniture within. “Admiral, it is good to see you again, sir,” he said.

  Zek looked up from his tablet and pointed to the chair. “I heard you've been looking for me,” he said. He fought to keep his voice even for the ONI recorders he knew were in the room.

  “Behave,” he sent in a text. “They are listening to us,” he sent as a tight follow-up.

  Horatio caught the texts and frowned. “I don't know what to do, who to turn to, sir. We're not fulfilling our mission,” he said.

  “I know.”

  Suddenly, despite the warning, Horatio's temper let loose. “It's like they are deliberately not trying. Dragging their feet …,” he shook his head. “I don't understand it. I just don't.”

  Zek eyed him warily. “We follow orders, Horatio.”

  “I know that. I just don't understand it, sir.”

  “Follow orders, Horatio,” Zek repeated out loud. His fingers flicked on an imaginary keyboard. He had a couple of preloaded text messages to send, but he wasn't certain if it was safe or not. ONI was undoubtedly monitoring the conversation. He had found the video cameras and microphones, but were they listening to radio chatter? He knew they were monitoring and filtering his WiFi. Most likely they were doing the same for all of the team, especially Horatio.

  “And how do we do that, sir? Our orders were to step into the yard and modernize it. We're not being allowed to do that,” Horatio said, waving a frustrated hand to the image of the yard on the small vid screen on his right.

  “We follow orders of the senior-most officer present,” Zek said doggedly. “Don't lose faith in the system.” He paused. “Cool it,” he texted.

  “I'll try not to, sir,” Horatio said, recognizing obstinance and dogged persistence in the other man's tone of voice. It was clear Zek was done talking about the problem.

  “Are you settling in okay?”

  “I don't have a permanent place yet. I don't think the powers that be know what to do with me,” Horatio said. Zek's scowl made him change tactics. “I've been trying to talk to some of the team. And,” he grimaced, “vice versa. They aren't happy. Only a few are fulfilling their original orders to any degree,” he said.

  “Things are in flux in Bek at the moment. We need to respect that and sit tight. Things will get better in time. Have patience and have faith,” Zek said.

  “I'm trying, sir,” Horatio said.

  “Don't rock the boat. You are a go getter, I know. You did well studying under Admiral Irons. But now you need to adapt and learn how the game is played here, Horatio.”

  Horatio nodded slowly. “Yes, sir.”

  “Do yourself a favor and study the ship designs in your off time. Give me a list of what you think we can do to improve them. Scale it though, simple updates initially,” he said.

  “Small steps,” he sent in a text to Horatio. “A little at a time is all we may get away with. Patience,” he texted.

  Horatio nodded slowly. “I … think I can do that if I had access to the blueprints. If I can pull some of the team in, I know we can come up with some updates. Modern hardware that would knock their socks off.”

  “That's the spirit,” Zek said as he texted Oprah. Just as Horatio opened his mouth to say something else the flag lieutenant knocked on the hatch combing. Both officers looked up and over to her.

  “Sir, we're running late. We need that inspection done so Baker can move forward. But we need you to sign off on it,” she said.

  “Very well,” Zek said in a slightly reluctant tone. He rose to his feet and extended his hand. “Just be patient, Horatio. Rome wasn't built in a day,” he warned.

  “And keep your head down. Sit tight, ride it out. Don't make waves,” he texted.

  Horatio nodded. “Yes, sir,” he said as he shook hands with the other flag officer. He followed Zek out, but Lieutenant Si intersected them and split her charge off. “I guess we'll see each other sometime, a lunch or something,” he said.

  “Perhaps. I know we both have a habit of taking working lunches,” Zek said with a smile. “I know you aren't big on recreational activities. You might want to look into a few though while you have the chance. Unwind a little.”

  “I'll look into it,” Horatio said with a tight nod as he watched the admiral leave.

  So much for that, he thought. His, their, last hope had just walked out on him after texting him to keep his head down and sit tight. “Lovely,” he muttered as he went back to his own office building. No doubt his inbox was full he thought acidly.

  Chapter 24

  Since he was still in limbo, annoyed, and underutilized, Horatio frequently checked in with BuPers to see if a new command would open up. He chatted up some of the staff in order to make connections. His pestering got the attention of a few people who decided to put him to work for their benefit.

  He was tapped by a commander in BuPers to list what the Admiralty in the outer Federation needed by way of personnel. He wrote out the parameters, focusing on people with hands-on experience. Shooters were a must. Commander Tisdail ran a list past him. He got some officers and enlisted to go to Pyrax.

  The more he explored the Bekian navy the more he didn't like it. For instance, he found out about the prejudices against mustangs through Lieutenant Olson's talk with the junior enlisted. It unsettled him a bit that Zek had never mentioned it to him.

  So he got as many of the middies and officers who were mustangs to be included in the passenger list of Caroline as he could. They had to par the number down to twenty-four from thirty-seven. Some were easy; they had friends and family in Bek and didn't want to leave the star system.

  Most of the mustangs were marines. The marines would double up in marine country on Caroline. The rest would have to hot bunk.

  He found to his dismay that mustangs had a short stay in the navy; most didn't get a chance at a full career. Only a masochist would put up with the abuse. Many traded their noncom or warrants for an officer's commission and college education just to further themselves in the civilian field later in life. After all, an officer's rank looked better than an enlisted on a resume.

  They were losing a lot of good people he mused. But again, he couldn't do much about it. What little he was doing wasn't even a drop in the bucket. More real changes had to be made to Bek's chain of command. Unfortunately, he didn't have the rank or position to effect those changes.

  He made certain to document everything he found and copy the files for a detailed report to Adm
iral Irons. He copied the files and his notes to a chip as well as backup files within Caroline's computers and took the precaution of encrypting them for good measure.

  If, no, when the ansible showed up, he'd dump the entire set into the buffer on the sly. If he was blocked by the brass, well, there was another slower route available. Captain Perth and Lieutenant Grant would make certain Caroline would carry a backup copy to Pyrax. Both officers were not happy about the situation.

  Something had to be done, but it was obvious to him that it would have to come from people higher than himself. All he could do was try to make connections and do what he could from the inside to get what little he was allowed to do done. Perhaps lay the groundwork for the work to come he thought.

  The Bekian admirals thought they were at the top of the food chain he thought with a grim twist of his lips. They'd pointed that out to him since they were the senior officers in command of the star system. He was looking forward to Admiral Irons proving to them that he was the biggest fish in the navy. The biggest fish with sharp teeth.

  ~<><{<^>}><>~

  Bailey shook his head as he tried to handle the situation. And by handle he meant keep a lid on his fraying temper. It wasn't easy. In fact, it was getting harder and harder every passing moment he admitted. But he didn't see where losing his temper would gain him anything. In fact, he was pretty sure the opposite would happen so he'd kept to venting with Galiet … but that wasn't fair to her.

  The first week or so had been fun; he had to admit that. It had been one long party. He had to admit being minor celebrities had its perks. Galiet had enjoyed every moment of it, and he had to admit he liked seeing her so radiant. But she'd dragged him off to various resorts and hot spots for nine days. It had been fun but exhausting to be with her. Their nightly activities had been the cherry on top. He'd been a tad concerned about getting her pregnant again, but the reserved Galiet had assured him she had her reproduction implant in place.

  He'd thought she'd been channeling Sylvia a few times; she'd seemed so frisky! He'd tried to hold off on the dancing; he admitted he had two left feet despite a life time of martial arts training. He also had tried to tell her he preferred to admire her beauty from a distance, but she'd pouted and dragged him out onto the floor more times than he cared to count.

  But he'd finally put his foot down and insisted they'd had enough fun and games and needed to get back to work. Guilt had set into Galiet, and she'd agreed. But that was where the problems had begun.

  He was not happy by the situation. Galiet had been confused when he'd tried to explain what he'd found. He'd tried to contact Admiral Zekowitz only to be shunted through a series of cut outs in the Bekian internet before he'd been dumped into a voice mail. The same had happened to Commodore Logan initially. He'd persisted enough and had managed to contact the commodore more through luck and persistence than any help from the so-called system.

  But he'd found that the commodore was powerless. He couldn't put the Neochimps where they were supposed to be, and they technically weren't supposed to report to BuPers. When Horatio had explained what he was doing, Bailey had sworn for a good five minutes after he'd hung up and vowed to steer clear of BuPers. He hated paperwork and seriously hated make-work. He'd rather be a damn janitor or something.

  While he'd been jumping through hoops there, Galiet had tried her own approach. When she'd struck out, she'd decided to find a temporary job to keep the credits flowing. She finally got an in to teach at the local community college since the universities had put her off.

  It was a guest speaker position though, not a tenured professorship. It had been something, and it had allowed her to get her foot in the door or so she'd told her husband. She'd found her celebrity was what had garnered her the posting. Most of her students had turned out to be journalists and the curious public who wanted to meet someone exotic. She'd spent her first couple of classes talking about the outer Federation, not about what she'd expected to teach, the basics of hyperspace and hyperdrive technology.

  She'd found she was a curiosity and had realized that time was numbered when less people showed up to her class the following day. She'd inquired during her breaks between classes only to find that the college administration was having concerns about her degrees and might require her to get a Bekian college degree if she wanted to teach in Bek. There was no way she was going to start over.

  That was total bullshit, and it had been her turn to vent about the problem when she'd returned to their hotel room. She'd returned her attention to what she had been supposed to be doing, but had been stymied. She wasn't allowed to teach at the academy since she was teaching as a civilian, not in her full naval rank. She had found that the only way for her to teach at the academy was if her reserve was fully activated. But then she'd be on active duty and possibly subjected to reassignment elsewhere.

  “This sucks,” Bailey said when they settled down to eat. He poked at his salad. “Suddenly I'm not hungry,” he muttered.

  “I know,” she sighed in agreement. “We're in trouble here. I don't know how long we'll have this room. And the food …,” she poked at her own salad, “not to mention other things. I just checked our credit balance. We're already at half what we brought with us.”

  “There goes our savings,” Bailey grumbled, shaking his head and pushing his plate aside. “Wanna bet we're going to be billed for this room?” he asked sarcastically.

  She closed her eyes in pain. She fought the tears from flowing.

  “Hey, hey, no water works,” he complained, wrapping his long arms around her. “We'll figure it out,” he said.

  “Will we?” she asked huskily. She patted his hand. “I keep thinking that too. I checked in with the others while I was out,” she said. “Everyone's frustrated. So far only V'l'r has found a posting anywhere similar to what he'd been ordered to be in,” she said, shaking her head. “He's teaching one class of hyper-navigation, one of subspace navigation, and two classes of math,” she said, practically spitting. “Basic and high math.”

  “Yeah, that'd suck,” he admitted.

  “There are four people in his hyperspace class. Four,” she said, holding up four fingers. “All of them middies. Two of them haven't even had the subspace navigation course yet, they are all in their first form. He was supposed to be teaching advanced students, even refreshers for current serving officers. Instead he's got kids fumbling around with no clue at what he's trying to teach them. And he said he's got no equipment, no computers, and no supporting material. They don't have implants either!” She shook her head.

  “So, he's teaching theory?”

  “Just about. He said he's spent the past couple of days just trying to sketch out a standard navigational console from memory and explain what the functions are.”

  Bailey grunted, squeezing her shoulders a bit. He kissed her ear. “We'll figure something out,” he said.

  “You said Horatio didn't get anywhere?”

  “No,” Bailey grunted. “He's worse than us in some ways, shuffling papers. I suppose I could look for a posting in a civilian outfit. Either a yard or a merchant ship …,” he grimaced. “Damn it, why did we come in the first place!” He swore, then let her go to pace. “You'd think they'd have a clue but …,” he threw his hands up in frustration.

  “I know,” Galiet said quietly, eyes tracking him.

  “Frack. We might as well have stayed home at this point. Can we go home? Get on Caroline?” he asked, pausing.

  “I've tried to call, but we can't get through. The ship is being kept incommunicado to protect her from the rampaging media outlets,” Galiet said in disgust, making air quotes.

  “Frack. Well, we need to find someone. Talk to someone in charge or something,” he muttered.

  ~<><{<^>}><>~

  Horatio used his implants to put an electronic call into Caroline. He was blocked by the military communication system however. Applying his implants didn't get him anywhere. He tried various routes, but Bucomm had the shi
p incommunicado. He finally got a notice from someone who had grown aware of his antics or had gotten tired of his persistence. It was stated that it was for their protection from the media, but he had a sneaking suspicion it was due to other reasons. “Call me paranoid,” he muttered.

  So during his lunch, he went outside for a stroll and sent out an implant broadband IFF challenge, just to see if anyone would reply. After his third attempt, he got a distant one back. It was from an enlisted sailor, one he identified as someone from Caroline.

  He honed in on the signal, strolling in the direction on his HUD plot and sent a signal requesting an e-chat. When he got a startled response from spacer Roy Simpson, he sent the spacer a text file, then an encrypted file. It took time. The text was a simple order, but the encrypted file was quite large. He'd compressed it, but it had to be transferred through their internal radio networks, not through the station's WiFi network. He knew that was most likely being monitored.

  All the while the large file was uploading, he was nervous. If ONI had a signal recorder around, they'd pick up the transmission. They wouldn't be able to decrypt it; he'd encrypted it for Admiral Irons alone. Four minutes later the startled spacer acknowledged receipt of the file when he did; Horatio thanked him in a text and closed the link.

  “And now I wait and see,” he muttered. He went back inside and went back to work.

  ~<><{<^>}><>~

  “We're running into cracks with the passengers. They are not happy,” Admiral Hill reported. “We're getting an uptick of chatter between them. Some conversations we're only getting partial recordings of. The summaries aren't good. We're also getting reports of the passengers trying to find work. Trying and failing for the most part.”

  “I thought we were keeping them entertained,” Admiral Draken demanded.

  The Neochimp admiral shrugged. “Apparently, they got tired of being wined and dined and decided it was time to get to work. Many have a solid work ethic; they are go getters,” she said. The red-skinned admiral grimaced. “Two of them, the Neochimps have been trying to find a posting, trying and failing.”