by Chris Hechtl
“So …”
“So, ONI has been listening into their room. Apparently, they want out. They are working to get a hold of someone on Caroline so they can return on the ship.” Admiral Hill explained.
“Not going to happen,” Admiral Draken vowed. “Not on my watch,” he said.
“They are civilians; you said they can't do that,” Admiral Hill pointed out.
“Which they can't do. But if they get to someone on the ship that they can complain to, then that will be passed on to Admiral Irons eventually. And us keeping them from returning would be seen as a problem.”
“Frack,” Admiral Hill muttered. “I was going to say let them go and good riddance but …”
“The good news is Caroline is ready to sail again. We've got her repairs finished as far as we can. And we've been filling up her passenger manifest. They won't have room for them once we're finished. And,” he smiled, “Commodore Logan has stepped up to help in that situation.”
“You've let him, sir?”
“Yes. He knows what they need in Pyrax after all,” Admiral Draken said with a small smug smile. “We're giving him his head to get it done—the sooner the better.”
“And the passengers?”
“We're going to have our civilian friends offer them job interviews to keep them entertained and out of everyone's hair. Who knows, one might snap them up.”
“With their experience, sir? They are hot commodities, not just to the media,” Admiral Hill stated.
“True. I think Childress Shipwrights will try to snag them,” Admiral Draken mused. “They are welcome to them I suppose, though others might protest,” he said. He shrugged such considerations away after a moment. “Not really my problem or at least they won't be once Caroline sails.”
“Yes, sir,” Admiral Hill replied with a nod.
~<><{<^>}><>~
Spacer Roy Simpson was nervous the entire time he was in the Bekian Admiralty. When he was finally back in Caroline, he took himself over to CPO Malone, the ship's bosun and explained the situation.
“It's weird, Bosun, I mean, why would Commodore Logan send me of all people the orders?” he demanded, showing the bosun his text message orders. “And that file …,” he shook his head.
“Don't worry about it. I've got it,” the chief said as he jacked into the young man. The chief downloaded the file onto a chip and made certain the original was deleted.
“You did good. I'll see that it gets to the skipper and where it needs to go,” Malone said. “When he's back on ship I mean,” the bosun said.
The spacer bobbed a nod, feeling intense relief. “Thank you, Bosun.” He shook his head. “This whole harem scarem thing, it's for the birds, sir. Hiding stuff from our own people ….” He shook his head. “I don't know, Bosun, I just don't know.”
Matt clasped him on the shoulder and squeezed once before releasing his grip and letting his hand fall. “I know the feeling. It's out of our hands for the moment. Go back to your duties.”
“Aye aye, Bosun,” Roy said dutifully.
“And don't tell anyone about it. As far as you are concerned, it didn't happen.”
The spacer frowned then nodded when he saw the hard look from the bosun. “Yes, Bosun.”
“Good. Dismissed.”
Chapter 25
Vice Admiral N'r'm'll was amused at Commodore Logan's antics to get middies and other mustangs of all people assigned to go to Pyrax. The Veraxin made a formal note in his report that it was the commodore who had superseded Admiral Irons' orders to send only senior officers.
“I'm not certain what good it will do for us. We are still going to catch flack for not having the yard and industrial changes,” the Veraxin stated as he passed the file over to Admiral Hill.
“That should undermine him a little with his patron,” Admiral Hill said with a brief smile. “Every little bit helps at this point. Credibility wise …,” she shrugged.
“Ah,” the Veraxin replied dubiously.
The idea of sending flag officers or even captains was appealing in many ways; it got rid of them and made room for their own more loyal people. But many of the flag officers had insisted on taking their staff with them. That had taken up slots that Caroline couldn't afford to take. When Captain Perth had let it be known that they didn't have flag accommodations and that the officers would be expected to double or triple bunk, many of the flag officers who had been jockeying for the positions suddenly pulled out.
It had also become known, strictly thanks to Zek's interviews, that they would be expected to get implants and even internal A.I. That had severely cut down on the volunteers and the available pool of personnel.
Then there were the families. Many officers had families, and the families couldn't be transported as well. He hadn't realized what sort of a debacle he'd handed Commander Tisdail. Her out-of-the-box thinking might have saved them a lot of headache, he thought.
With Admiral Iron's plan mostly out the door and Horatio signing off on changing it, it allowed the Veraxin vice admiral and the Academy's Commandant to countersign sending the middies in their place. It would get rid of many of the mustangs Rear Admiral C'v'll had intended to flush out anyway. If Irons was so hurting for personnel, let him deal with them. They could be trained in Pyrax or revert to their previous ranks and fill in the voids that way; he pretty much didn't care as long as they were out of his jurisdiction.
“We're slowly getting a handle on the personnel problem. Obviously we're going to be just starting with the mess in Bek B,” the Veraxin stated.
“Understood. I'm glad that blasted ship is leaving in another two days. They've eaten up a great deal of my discretionary budget. And we've been hitting a wall with local LEOs in monitoring the personnel. Once they are gone, I can scale back a lot,” Admiral Hill said with a shake of her head.
“That will be a relief. We need such loyal personnel elsewhere,” the Veraxin stated.
“I thought as much,” Admiral Hill said. “And Commodore Logan? Have you found another place for him?”
“You heard he's a bit too good at his job?” the Veraxin buzzed. The Neochimp officer nodded. “I'd say he should be a victim of his own success, but that would push things in a direction we don't want. Obviously we don't want to force him out of the military,” the Veraxin said.
“Oh?” Admiral Hill said, cocking her head. “News to me.”
“Think it through. If we push him out, he'll be in civilian practice, which means he can talk to the media. At the moment he can't,” the Veraxin explained patiently. Slowly the rear admiral nodded. “And as he is, within the system, he's subject to our discipline. He also can't run for office. His hands are effectively tied, and he has to take whatever job we give him.”
“True. So …”
“So, I think that we're going to need to throw him a bone eventually. Make some progress, however little, in BuShips to modernize. The pressure has been building for awhile.”
“Again, not what I'd heard,” the rear admiral said, crossing her arms.
“It's not news. It just hasn't occurred to the powers that be since they've been so focused on consolidating power. But trust me; putting some corrections in place will be good long term. Not just to show that we're tokenly following Admiral Irons' orders, albeit at our own pace, but also to show the rank and file that we are as well.”
Admiral Hill nodded again. “Okay. You have some sort of proposed place in mind to drop him in yet?” she asked. “I'm surprised you are sticking your neck out for him at all, sir,” she said, eyeing the bug.
“Not yet. Admiral Childress has given me a few directives on where to place Zek once they've squeezed what we want out of him. I imagine the commodore will be sort of a roving consultant. Someone we can move around and tap when needed. I understand a debate is forming on what we can do to supply the outer Federation. Tradewise I mean,” he said.
She nodded thoughtfully. “Okay, I suggest you write that up, sir,” she said.
; “Oh, I will, eventually,” the bug said. “For the moment he's not going anywhere,” he said nastily.
~<><{<^>}><>~
“Sir, a call is coming in. It's important; that's all I know,” Lieutenant Olson said through his implants.
“Line?” Horatio asked.
“Line one, sir. It's from the Bekian Admiralty,” the flag lieutenant reported.
“This is Commodore Logan,” Horatio said after he keyed the line. He wasn't at all surprised that it was a vid chat; his screen opened a window with a wallpaper covered in the flag of the Federation. That was quickly changed as a senior officer in uniform took its place. One he recognized.
“Admiral Childress, sir!” he said, straightening instinctively.
“I'll make this brief, Commodore. I thought I'd call and touch base with you since you are new here,” the admiral rumbled. “I only have a moment, but I like to get a handle on every one of my flag officers,” he said.
Horatio bobbed a nod. “Thank you, sir.”
“Settling in okay?”
“Well, sir, about that …”
“We'll have to get together to have a heart-to-heart sometime I suppose,” the admiral said. “Not anytime soon though, I'm rather busy, and I do have a lot of other flag officers to check in on,” the admiral said as pointed reminder to keep the conversation light.
Horatio nodded. He realized that Admiral Childress had called him to check him out and feel out his intentions. He wondered if the other human had really called to rub the situation in and relish the commodore's frustration.
“I was curious how long you are planning on keeping the top slot, sir,” he said.
The Bekian admiral's eyes narrowed. “What is that supposed to mean?” he asked dangerously.
“You are one of the senior-most officers in the navy, sir. In fact, only Admiral Irons outranks you. I was curious. Are you considering a run at the CNO slot, sir?” he asked. He knew it was a long shot, and risky, but it might be worth it if he dangled such an opportunity in front of the man.
“The CNO slot?”
“Yes, sir. For the entire Federation, not just Bek,” Horatio replied, forgoing to mention that the CNO title was no longer valid in Bek.
That idea made Omar sit still and think for a long moment. Finally, he cleared his throat. “Oh?” Admiral Childress asked, amused. “I thought Admiral Sienkov took it?”
Horatio shook his head. “No, sir. Admiral Sienkov took on the secretary of intelligence seat in the cabinet. At most he'll have oversight of ONI and the other intelligence and security departments. In fact, I wouldn't be too surprised if he takes on the security secretary posting as well, at least until its department is built and someone from within is ready to step into those shoes.” He shrugged. “It's a big pair of shoes to fill though, with his experience I understand. You too have such experience, sir,” he said. He wondered if the flattery would spoil the effect he was going for. It galled him a little to have to resort to it, but he had no other choice. Besides, it was all true. Childress had a lot more experience with such things given his long and storied history in the navy.
The admiral's eyes narrowed. “I seem to recall there being few flag officers in Antigua. So you are saying the seat is currently vacant?”
Horatio shrugged. “Admiral Irons is trying to handle the CNO, secretary of war, and presidency, sir, while also keeping the Antigua and Pyrax yards up-to-date with keys. He's also dealing with governors and other politicians who come in expecting their implants and keys,” he said. “He has a lot of jobs to fill in other words. That's because he doesn't have the right people to step up and take them,” he said with a slight hint of suggestion in his voice.
“I'm surprised he doesn't have Admiral Sienkov take it,” Admiral Childress said thoughtfully, looking away as he considered the problem.
“I don't know, sir. The CNO slot goes to the senior-most serving officer. Whoever went after it would of course have to pass Admiral Irons.”
That brought the admiral back to Earth. “I see. And you know the admiral well?”
“Yes, sir. I served …”
“Sir, your ten thirty is here,” a voice said from off camera.
“We'll talk some other time, Commodore. I'll consider what you said,” Admiral Childress said as he cut the circuit.
Horatio sat back and inhaled deeply. After a moment he exhaled, letting some of his frustration ebb. He had been so close, but obviously cutting the Gordian knot keeping him from doing what he'd been sent there to do wasn't going to be easy.
“Patience,” he muttered to himself. He shook himself and then went back to “work” shuffling papers.
~<><{<^>}><>~
Omar frowned, tapping his index fingers against his lips as he thought about the situation the commodore had presented to him. Not just a situation he realized, but an opportunity. Had he been dangling it there as a possible reward? Or a trap? He frowned thoughtfully.
He looked up as Admiral Draken came into the office. “Drake,” he said with a nod.
“Sir,” Sherman replied, ignoring the slight.
“Sorry,” Admiral Childress said when he realized he'd slipped. He waved a hand. “Slip of the tongue.”
“You seem distracted, sir. Did I catch you at a bad time?” Sherman asked as he took his customary seat.
“I was just talking to the commodore from Pyrax. I'd intended to rub it in, but he got me thinking,” he admitted, eyes shifting a bit as he considered the problem from different angles.
“Oh?”
“He dangled the CNO slot in front of me. It's damn tempting to go after,” the admiral admitted.
Draken's gold eyes glittered briefly but then narrowed in speculation. He too saw the nice golden fruit but also the pitfalls that potentially went with going after it. “It is most likely Tantalus's fruit, sir. Dangled out there to get you to jump for it and then yanked away.”
Omar nodded slowly. “My thoughts as well. But I'm realizing Bek isn't the only star system anymore. Am I giving up something bigger and better out there by playing it safe here and being king fish?”
“I don't know, sir. I'm reminded of the old saying about the grass is greener on the other side though,” Sherman replied as he cocked his head. “Besides, by the time you do get a chance to go to Pyrax, word of what we've done here, or not done here more importantly, will have reached Pyrax. That will pretty much seal any chance of career advancement outside of Bek.”
Omar nodded slowly. He'd started to regret the path he'd put himself on out of a desire to get out from under his mother's thumb and to seize ultimate power. But Sherman was right; their path was set. He couldn't change it now.
“All right, if that's the path not chosen, so be it. What do you have for me?”
“Well, we're working on the numbers and moving some things around in the budget …”
~<><{<^>}><>~
Admiral Draken frowned as he walked through the outer offices of the Admiralty to his own office in the Ops wing. He kept the frown dispassionate, just a casual frown to ward off anyone who would want to stop and chat. He wanted everyone to know he had bigger, more important things on his mind.
Like the commodore's proposal. It was certainly intriguing. He had thought about it and had even considered a transfer out of Bek if a ship had come in. But he'd signed on to Childress and his plot before Caroline had returned. He didn't regret it, but was coming to realize he might long term.
He definitely needed to game out the long-term consequences of Childress and his plan. He wasn't at all certain how viable it was anymore.
Nor was he certain he wanted to be a part of it.
He nodded to the yeoman, took a tablet silently from the T'clock's hands, then went into his office and shut the door. He set the tablets down on his bloater as he rounded the desk. He didn't sit, however; instead he stared out into the wall screen that served as a window.
The bigger picture … it was something to consider. Childress had been focuse
d on the small picture. Sherman was now aware of the bigger picture. That CNO slot … the commodore had been dangling it as an incentive to get Omar to play ball; he knew that. Omar had made his bed; it would bite him in the ass one way or another once Admiral Irons got word and decided to act. He wasn't certain if he wanted to be there to ride the good admiral's coattails down in flames though.
No, not when the opportunity of the CNO slot presented itself like that. If he played his cards right, he could present himself as a good conscientious officer just following the orders and expressed wishes of his chain of command. He'd take a hit with Irons, but if he played it right, especially since Irons was so desperate for experienced flag officers, he might come out tarnished, but in a position to rebuild his reputation. With a little bit of hard work and boot licking, he'd get past his current peccadillo and move back into the bigger game.
He nodded slowly as he stared out into the void beyond. Usually the jewels of ships out there helped him. Now he saw them for what they were, the past. They were dinosaurs, old, obsolete. So was Omar. When the time came for the admiral to stomp on him, he'd get well and truly crushed.
And with any luck Sherman would be there to sweep in and take over. First in Bek, then in the outer Federation.
He turned and sat down. With flicks of his clawed fingers, he pulled up the list of bases in the outer Federation.
He frowned as he studied the results. Not a whole lot there, Pyrax, Antigua, Protodon, Senka, B101a1, Bek, Epsilon Triangula, and the new commands going out to Pi and Tau sectors … not to mention the combat missions to take out the pirates.
Someone like Omar might disdain all that; after all, the rest of the Federation as it stands was tiny in comparison to Bek and all her accomplishments. He was reminded of one thing though. It was critical to his new line of thinking. At this time, he thought. At this time, they were smaller. Irons had built all of it with help in the fifteen years since he'd woken. Antigua had been built in less than five years. What would the man do in the next ten? twenty?