Enemy of my Enemy (Horatio Logan Chronicles Book 1)

by Chris Hechtl

  “Give it a shot,” Bailey said, rubbing her shoulders. She groaned greedily, letting herself relax for a moment before she finally got up the nerve to put her call in.

  It took awhile to track the admiral down. When she did get through the call centers, she was routed to the admiral's flag lieutenant instead.

  “I know we're all frustrated by the situation,” Lieutenant Si said. “I'd put you through to the admiral but he's on another line trying to sort things out himself. The best I can tell you right now is to hunker down and play their game. Ride it out. Prove to them that you can take the shitty jobs, and that you are willing to play ball with them. It's all I can help you to do,” the lieutenant said as she tried to sooth the ruffled feathers.

  “So you are telling me to suck it up and bide our time?” Galiet said. She grimaced as her husband pointed to his rear-end, made a smooching face, then pretended to bend over. If he'd been in kicking range, she vowed …

  “Essentially, yes, bide your time. We're all doing that. The political situation is a mess. The navy is in flux. The chain of command …,” Lieutenant Si shook her head. “You don't want me to get started on that,” she said. “Look, just bear with us for as long as it takes to get it sorted out,” the lieutenant said. She looked away for a moment then her face changed to a moue. “Sorry, I've got another call coming in,” she said apologetically.

  Galiet had a sneaking suspicion the human woman was lying to get rid of her but knew she wasn't going to get any further. She made her polite and brief good byes and then the line was disconnected.

  “Didn't get anywhere, did you?” Bailey asked in sympathy from behind her. He rubbed her shoulders again.

  “Nope,” Galiet said. “Not a damn thing. One step forward, two steps back. The run around essentially. I'm with you. The moment Caroline or another ship comes in we're so out of here,” she vowed. “Frack ‘em. Frack ‘em all to hell in a handbasket for all I care. They want this star system like this; hell, they can keep it. I don't give a shit. Not anymore. It's just a backward cesspool,” she said, shaking her head in anger.

  “Bingo,” he said, rubbing her shoulders once more. She reached up and patted his hand briefly, then closed her eyes and tried to let the frustration growing within her ebb. As usual she wasn't very successful despite her and her husband's efforts.

  Errant thoughts kept rising into her mind like a tongue wiggling a sore tooth. She tried to be good. It took hours of tossing and turning before she finally found some peace.

  ~<><{<^>}><>~

  Baxter shook his head at the pile of paperwork he had to deal with. He'd finally broken down and thrown his pride out and taken the job with Childress Shipwrights. Not that it had been anything to write home about. Far from it. An experienced engineer and yard dog like himself, a manager who'd worked his way up through the ranks in the navy before he'd taken on civilian work was relegated to shuffling paperwork. Make-work at best.

  He had taken a self-imposed tour of the facility he was in or at least the sections he had access to. The Shipwrights had an army of accountants and lawyers on their payroll. There was a massive marketing force, one he still couldn't figure out. When your only client for military hardware was the navy, why did you need four thousand marketing people? It just didn't make a lick of sense.

  But he'd learned to keep his head down, be a good kitty, and above all, toe the line. Do what he was told, collect his paycheck, and pay his bills. That was it. There was little else he could do other than look for work … quietly. He'd found that they were watching for that, which was not something he was happy about. Some of the crap he'd had to sign in his contract … he grimaced. He made a mental note to go over it once more. He knew about and didn't like the provisions preventing him from working for anyone else that the company considered competition if he should quit or be fired. That part was straight-up bullshit. But he hadn't had a choice; he'd needed the work. There had been no way in hell he was going to let his reserve commission be reactivated even if the navy had wanted him. Considering they were beaching personnel in job lots … he shook his head.

  Something told him he'd not only sold his soul away, but perhaps his life as well. It was a little late to regret it, and with their army of attorneys, there probably wasn't a lot of wiggle room, but it might be a good idea to see how deep a crack he'd gotten himself into.

  ~<><{<^>}><>~

  Commander Thistle did his best to keep his temper in check as the rear admiral came in. If he'd known for just one instant that he'd been stuck where he was …

  “Problem, Commander?” the white Neomutt demanded, looking up at him.

  “No, sir,” the commander said, standing at parade rest.

  “Everything in order?”

  “Yes, sir. Inventory was completed yesterday,” the commander replied dutifully.

  “Yesterday?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “But not today?” the admiral demanded, eyeing the commander.

  “Yes, sir. We've kept up-to-date on all changes in the warehouse,” the Chimera said. “All entries and exits have been logged, sir.”

  “But you didn't do a full inventory.”

  “No, sir. The order is to do it by hand monthly,” the commander replied, eyes above the head of the Neomutt. The Neodog had been something of a celebrity in his youth before he'd signed on to the navy apparently. He'd risen through the ranks through dogged determination.

  “I think another inventory is in order then, Commander. Today,” the admiral said, as he paced. Weaver's eyes errantly tracked downward in dismay to the Neodog before they were noticed. He snapped them up as the Neodog paused his pacing. “A problem, Commander?” he demanded.

  “No, sir. We'll get it done,” Weaver said, forcing himself not to grind his teeth in frustration.

  “Make certain you do it all by hand. Eyes on every pallet. Log every ID tag and triple check,” the admiral ordered. “You can personally oversee it since I'm borrowing most of your staff for other duties,” the admiral said.

  “Yes, sir,” the commander said, forcing himself to not look to either side of him in dismay. The orbital warehouse he was in was massive, nearly two kilometers long and a half kilometer wide and tall. Doing a hand check with a short staff would take forever.

  “Good. Get started then,” the Neodog said as he left.

  “His bark is worse than his bite, my ass,” the commander muttered once he was certain his new boss was gone. “What did I do to piss off the gods to land this shit job,” he sighed as he slapped his thigh in frustration. “And who do I talk to in order to get out of it?” he asked rhetorically as he went to round up the staff.

  ~<><{<^>}><>~

  Lieutenant Commander Alice Walengrad found herself reassigned to be a chief engineer on a cruiser, the Albacore. She didn't know what to say, and since the orders were to report aboard right away, she got her pass and moved out smartly.

  It had to be a mistake she kept telling herself as she went through the boarding chute to the vessel's interior.

  After she reported on board and went through the boarding ceremony and signing of the ship's roster, she found herself face-to-face with a Neogorilla commander.

  "Welcome to Albacore, Commander. My name is Commander Tomar Katic, and I am the XO of this ship for the record,” he said. She nodded as she came to parade rest. “And on behalf of our crew, welcome to Bek," the XO said, extending a hand so they could shake. She shifted her duffel and then did so.

  "They had to have dug deep for the name," Alice said as she checked out their surroundings in the ship. It was a typical industrial ship interior, not much different than on some of the smaller Federation vessels and instillations.

  "Why?" the XO asked, eyeing her thoughtfully.

  "The name is Terran. The USS Albacore, AG something or other," she said, waving a dismissive hand. "If I remember my history classes right, there were several, but the most famous was the first teardrop-shaped submarine. American, if I'm remembering
right," she said thoughtfully as she stared at the ship's crest. Sure enough there was an image of a fish on the diagonal with the ship's name on top and the numbers 569 underneath.

  "How in the world could you have possibly known that?" the XO asked, staring at her.

  "Like I said, I know a little history. Actually, my dad was into building ships, wet navy ships. He'd make them out of wood and paint, tiny things in a bottle. He'd research them, create this diorama and then mom would make him sell them in port to collectors."

  "Oh," the XO blinked. "My, you are full of surprises," he said.

  "So, I take it I'm not here as a yard dog? This isn't a tour?" Alice asked.

  "Hardly. You know about the shake-ups in the chain of command?" the XO asked. Alice nodded. "Well, you got placed here for our sins."

  "Lovely."

  "Problems?" the XO asked in a cool voice. He crossed his arms and studied her.

  Alice shook her head. "No, sir, I wanted a ship posting. I wasn't happy about being grabbed to serve a term as a yard dog actually. I guess all the keys and stuff I've got loaded in my implants will keep?" So much for their mission, she thought. She wasn't certain if she should be happy about it or not. Most likely not.

  "You've got implants?" the XO asked, blinking at her.

  "Yes, sir. They are standard issue for all serving personnel. I have officer and engineering implants," she explained.

  "I … don't know what to say," Commander Katic rumbled thoughtfully.

  Alice shrugged. "I thought everyone here was supposed to get them. I guess not," she said, "or they are running behind. There are a lot of people to give implants too after all," she said.

  "True," the XO said. "So, you have a modern take on hardware. I'm curious what you'll do with ours. Just adapting is going to take time. And we've got a series of exercises and working-up tests in a few weeks."

  Alice nodded slowly. She'd seen the ship design. The Bekians favored angled sloping armor, usually made out of flat planes. They disdained curves whenever possible. She hadn't understood it initially until she'd asked Commodore Logan. He'd explained that a flat surface was easier to engineer than a curved one. And a flat surface angled properly would deflect incoming fire and or would offer nearly twice the thickness for incoming fire to attempt to penetrate, thus saving weight.

  Albacore didn't look much like a fish therefore. She was a diamond shape on both her X and Y axis. On the X axis, her bow and stern points were extended outward a great deal. She had a diamond appearance.

  "Diamond in the rough," she murmured.

  "Pretty much. Everyone's afraid their ship will be the first to get the chop. So far it hasn't happened, but like you said, it will eventually. Which," he grimaced, "brings up a tricky thing. We couldn't get any of the hardware Caroline brought with her, but we thought since you know the ins and outs of modern hardware, you might be able to upgrade Albacore a bit. Find small tweaks that won't hamper the ship's operations. Get a little extra oomph out of the engines and reactor for instance," he suggested, eyeing her.

  "And reworking the shields, gravity emitters, and inertial dampeners while I'm at it?" Alice asked, raising an eyebrow.

  "Now you are talking. Every little bit helps. Any software tricks …," the XO smiled. "See, the skipper has a running bet with a couple of the other cruiser skippers. Winner will get some nice treats. Looser gets hammered."

  "Can't have that," Alice said with a nod. She rolled up her sleeves. "Okay, I'll need to get with your, excuse me, my new staff and get a tour. They wouldn't let me download Albacore's blueprints into my implants. I'll need them too. I'll see what I can do."

  "Good, good," the XO said. He took her duffel and handed it to a star sailor. "Get this to the chief's room. She's going to be busy," he said.

  "Right away, sir," the Veraxin said, taking the bag.

  Alice opened her mouth and then closed it. Finally, she nodded. "Okay, no problem. We can do this. It will take me a bit to get to know this lady, but I'm sure we'll fine tune her so she's running better than any ship in her class."

  "Good to hear, Chief, that's the spirit," the XO replied with a nod.

  "Do you think I could draw Commodore Logan into this?" she asked, cocking her head in inquiry.

  The XO's polite attitude cooled again instantly. "Oh?"

  "He has a design program I think we could use. I didn't bring a copy with me. It can do all sorts of things like design stuff, take it apart, find wear points, and figure out what is going wrong where. It is a great visual tool too." She grimaced. “I could kick myself for not having it.”

  "And you didn't keep a copy?" the XO asked.

  Alice shook her head. "No. I handed my copy off to a captain in the yard. She said she'd get the original back to me but never did. And I haven't been able to track her down." she said with another grimace.

  "Don't do that again," the XO said with a shake of his head. "I'll see what I can do," he said.

  "Thank you, sir."

  "Okay, since you don't know where you are going, I'll guide you this time. You'll definitely need that map though, soon," the XO said eyeing her. "This way," he said indicating the direction they were to take."

  "Yes, sir. After you," she said with a nod. She decided she didn't need or want to push her luck and piss the man off any more. She wasn't certain why everyone didn't like the commodore, but she reminded herself not to mention him again for awhile.

  Chapter 27

  Horatio got a request from Alice for another copy of Mercury at the same time he received new orders. He scanned her request briefly while he allowed Olson to check in on the staff. Apparently, Alice had been assigned to the heavy cruiser Albacore. He frowned and then tapped the record button so he could send a vid message to her. “I'd offer to send a copy of Mercury to you, Commander, but I can't transmit the program since it is classified and would use up a lot of bandwidth. We will have to arrange a meeting, but I know it will be difficult since I'm stuck in Command 1 and you are off on your ship.”

  “Find out where that copy went. I don't like it just disappearing like that, and I know Admiral Irons would be very unhappy with it being out in the wild unsupervised. Get with someone in BuPers and track it down now, Commander,” he ordered.

  “Check with Pietro on my schedule. I might be able to shake him loose to hand deliver you a copy if you can meet him halfway. Figure it out. Logan clear,” he said. He clicked the disconnect and then compressed and transmitted the file to her.

  He then opened the fresh orders. It was surprisingly not a warning that he was about to be denuded with more paperwork. Instead … his eyes scanned the document … instead … he sat back in surprise. “Well, I'll be damned,” he murmured to himself.

  Instead he and part of his staff had been transferred to a different branch of BuShips, specifically ship architecture. He was also going to be detached to act as a consultant with an industrial board that was going to determine what they could do to supply the Federation and how the Federation intended to pay for it.

  He pursed his lips in thought.

  After a moment of gaming it out, it made sense. He went back to scanning the first several paragraphs. It was clear there that someone wanted him to dig through the logistics and find every part that qualified as exportable to the outer Federation. It was a daunting task for an organic. Hell, even for a team of organics. They were giving him a couple of weeks to find as much as possible and then have it as ammunition when the industrial board met for their conferences.

  He nodded slowly. He and Admiral Zekowitz had already started that process before they'd left Pyrax, and they'd hit the subject off and on while in transit on Caroline. He'd assumed that Zek was assigned as well, but after rescanning his orders a third time, he didn't find any mention of the rear admiral, which was odd but apparently normal for Bek.

  He frowned thoughtfully as he transmitted the orders to Pietro through their implants. Pietro acknowledged the receipt of the orders. “I'll get on packing
, sir. Do you want to check out the offices first?” the flag lieutenant texted after a moment.

  “Yes. I need to know what sort of staff we're getting and more importantly, what sort of access and computer support. This isn't going to be easy,” Horatio texted.

  “Yes, sir. This should be interesting,” Pietro responded.

  “I hope so,” Horatio murmured as he cut the chat channel.

  He had found the Bekian warship designs were basic but hardly crude. Crude compared to modern designs, but they'd used as much modern hardware as Admiral Irons could have taught them to make without a replicator before he'd left the star system. They'd built off of it to some degree, but there had been some drift involved.

  The designs of the ships were simplistic on the surface. The battle line ships were planed ships—tight, heavily armored, and without nacelles. They kept the basic shape and silhouette and rescaled upward for the larger classes of ships.

  They all fell into a diamond shape on two axes with a diamond cross section and diamond with its horizontal points extended in silhouette. Sublight engines clustered at the keel, one or more on each plate. Their vital parts and fuel tanks were each buried as much as possible in the armor with additional armor panels over the thrusters as far as possible to further protect them.

  The armor was arranged in flat planes and layered plates with the most of the armor over the critical sections of the ship such as the main power plants, sublight drives, and command deck. It looked like appliqué armor to some degree, but he'd found that it had been purposely built from the beginning. All that armor ate up mass and slowed the ships down however.

  It was a thoughtful, workman-like approach to the design. It was set-up to make the most of their limited tech base and to put as many ships into service as possible in a short time period. He understood that. But now they could do better … if he could entice them into doing so. The jury was still out he reminded himself.