by Chris Hechtl
“I'm glad to be here, sir,” she said smoothly as she handed over her orders chip. Horatio touched it, accessed the orders, scanned them, then nodded and silently passed the chip over to Pietro.
“Not if she knows what's good for her,” Lieutenant Olson texted in an aside to the commodore as he took the chip. Horatio shot him a brief reproving look then went back to the female lieutenant. “I wasn't aware of your transfer, but I am grateful. We could use all the help we can get,” he said wryly. “I promise to go over your orders and your file when I'm finished here. In the meantime, why don't you have Lieutenant Olson here show you around the office and introduce you to the rest of the staff,” he said. “Just a fair warning, you aren't going to have a lot of time to settle in. We move about this office smartly,” he warned with an upraised finger.
“Yes, sir,” she said. She glanced at Olson. The flag lieutenant nodded.
“Dismissed,” Horatio said, turning his attention to the tablet in his hands. He heard and sensed them snap to briefly, then walk out.
She didn't know it, but the commodore had already accessed her orders and file when he'd touched the chip. He scanned them again, sitting back and rubbing his chin and mouth as he set a script bot onto the files to pick out the pertinent information. There was something there; something that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and made his gut scream she was trouble.
It took a little bit of digging before he figured it out. She had a string of fishy reviews in her file—all glowing, all vague. She also had some involvement with JAG. He initially suspected that she was a mole, most likely planted to spy on him, but then discounted it when he noted something else. The JAG files might be sealed, but when he checked with her previous commanders, he noted several had abruptly retired or had been dismissed from the service as unfit or misconduct. Their slapdowns were also vague and in some cases sealed by JAG. He nodded slowly as he sat back.
She was trouble all right, trouble with a capital T. Someone who advanced her career by ruthless means. And she'd taken aim at him for some reason, he thought. No, he frowned pensively. She hadn't taken aim so much as had been aimed at him. Of that he was sure despite the lack of proof.
~<><{<^>}><>~
Lieutenant Olson showed Lieutenant Razid around the office. She picked out an empty office next to his, one reserved for the chief of staff. He didn't say anything in objection. She smiled and settled primly behind her desk.
“Do you need anything else, ma'am?” he asked.
“No, no, that'll be all,” she said with a dismissive wave. He nodded and exited the office, shutting her door behind him.
He paused on the other side of the door and accessed his implants. The resolution behind him was poor due to the metal door, but he could see her thermal profile. He could also somehow sense her smile. He didn't like it.
“Sir, what do we do with her?” he texted to the commodore.
“We use her of course. Give her an in brief, then we bury her in paperwork,” Horatio replied.
Pietro nodded once and then smiled grimly as he assembled a packet for the young woman to go over.
Over the rest of the day, he noted that Lieutenant Fazim didn't quite fit into the office. She wasn't good at handling her job for one, preferring to gossip and do her nails and makeup instead of handling paperwork. When he pointed out that it was due, she just simpered and handed it off to a star sailor to handle.
He noted that she had an air of predatory about her and an intoxicating scent. The staff tended to look at her all the time—the human and Neo females with cat-like glares of jealousy or amusement, the males with barely contained sexual interest.
She seemed to have eyes only for the commodore, however, which initially alarmed Pietro. She offered to take the commodore's lunch in for him, but he brusquely handled it. She did sit in for the working lunch but mainly listened.
When it came time to knock off for the evening, she inquired about the commodore's dinner plans. Pietro looked up in alarm, but the commodore didn't act on her advances and actively avoided the woman.
“I'm going to catch a quick bite then check in with the engineers and techs. Night folks,” Horatio said as he departed. Pietro made certain he was behind his boss and blocked him as he entered the lift and left the building.
He snorted to himself when he turned to see the woman's expression. The commodore's choice of being hands-on with the engineers, R&D scientists, and others but not her clearly didn't sit well with her. She wasn't used to being rebuffed. He snorted as he returned to the office to finish his own project. He had to arrange the commodore's schedule in order to allow him to visit the academy and hit a couple speaking roles that the public affairs department had requested.
“Ma'am. It's going to be a long first evening until we're caught up. Best be about it,” he said with a nod and clean expressionless face as he passed her. He could hear her grind her teeth slightly before she turned back to the job.
~<><{<^>}><>~
Lieutenant Razid fumed as she returned to her office and flung herself into her chair. It bothered the hell out of her that she'd struck out so thoroughly. She hadn't made any sort of impression on the man, and she hadn't gotten any alone time with him. Nor could she get a read on him beyond the air of confidence and competency he projected. It bothered the hell out of her, more so when she realized her bosses would want a progress report.
She sighed and tapped out a fast report, emphasizing that the project would take time, but the end result was inevitable. She keyed it to an encrypted inbox, hit send, and then sat back.
Her brief relief ended when the sailor she'd dumped her workload on came in with half of it and then tripped on a chair and dumped the loose papers all over her office. He groaned fearfully. She snarled.
~<><{<^>}><>~
Horatio found out about Childress Shipwrights and the other civilian companies that supplied equipment and material to the navy. Through his contacts, he found out Baxter was working for them, and that they'd tried to get their hooks in just about every other team member. He frowned thoughtfully.
He was uncomfortable with the knowledge that Childress and others owned over half of the navy's production ability. They owned nearly all of the subcontract work to supply parts and material. It was different than what had been set-up in Pyrax and Antigua. Ass-backwards of how the navy had worked in years past.
It harkened back to the dark days of contractors before the First A.I. war when the military was in bed or victim to such shenanigans. The corruption was rampant; of that, he was certain. He hated it. Unfortunately, like a lot of things he couldn't do a damn thing about it.
There was also an obvious conflict of interest with Admiral Childress being in charge. He controlled the coffers and the contracts. He had a side bet going that Childress Shipwright's competitors were none too pleased about the turn of events. But when he ran a scan, he didn't find any protests in the media.
“Odd,” he murmured.
~<><{<^>}><>~
Zek sat at his desk and rolled his shoulders. Despite every bit of paperwork, they threw at him he'd found a script to handle it without throwing him into a death spiral of despair.
It had also helped that he'd gotten a few software tools and tricks from Oprah, who'd picked them up as a flag lieutenant … and surprisingly, some from Lieutenant Olson. The young man had been helpful in return to her.
Which showed. He was on target and meeting all his assigned goals despite everything the powers that be threw at him. He wasn't certain if that was a good thing or not.
His mixed mood ended when a familiar face knocked on his open hatch door and then entered without his permission.
He frowned as he recognized Commander Weaver Thistle. The Chimera engineer had somehow managed to get through the red tape and past Yeoman Clancy and Oprah to get into Zek's inner sanctum.
“What can I do for you, Commander?” he asked, sitting back. He still wasn't good at using his implants, but he co
uld tell from the commander's thermal profile that he was agitated.
“Sir, how the hell do I get out of this chicken shit outfit? I mean …,” the commander shook his head and then started in with his story.
Zek eyed the Chimera as the commander vented a bit. It was clear from the Chimera's frustration that it wasn't a lack of work under Rear Admiral Bolt that was the problem. Far from it. Like Horatio, Zek, and most of the others, he'd found himself practically buried in make-work. He had been relegated to doing inventory, not what he'd signed on for.
He felt for the kid in some way. Bolt was rough on his sailors and pushing them to do multiple inventories in a week was bullshit. Not when the book called for them to be spot-checked monthly and a full in-depth one done quarterly.
But Bolt was crowing over finally ripping open a black market scheme. He was taking the credit for the work, which probably pissed Thistle off as well.
Finally, the admiral had had enough. “What do you want me to do about it?” he asked sarcastically when the Chimera stopped to inhale. “I'm in the same boat. Get over it. Follow your orders and do your duty. That's all any of us can expect of each other commander. It's that or resign your commission.”
“Aye aye, sir,” Commander Thistle said stiffly, thin tail drooping.
“Dismissed then.”
“Aye aye, sir,” the commander intoned like a robot. He snapped to attention and then smartly walked out, tail drooping.
Zek watched the commander go with hooded eyes. He knew none of the team was happy about the situation. A part of him was perversely amused at the thought that they had come in, so smug and feeling superior about themselves only to be cut down to size by the monolithic Bekian Admiralty complex. Given his background and personal dislike of implants, he was very much aware that others shared his former disdain for such things. The very idea that he could do something about it though … he shook his head.
“We're all in the same boat. Sinking slowly but surely,” he muttered.
“Sir, we've just had another data dump. It looks like a doozy. I guess we're working late again,” Lieutenant Si said in a text file.
“Lovely,” he muttered.
Chapter 28
Horatio finally found the time in his schedule to pass on Moira's message to her extended family on the planet. He put in a call on Thursday. On Friday he was surprised to receive an invitation for a meet and greet as well as permission from the Admiralty to leave his post for the weekend and travel down to the planet. Apparently, either someone was still monitoring his traffic or the Sema clan had greased the wheels to make the meeting take place.
Since he had nothing better to do, he accepted. He took the shuttle down to the planet and then was picked up by a driver. The driver took him to an estate in the outskirts of Dovetail, a small mountain town next to Dover. He listened as the driver nattered on about how Dovetail was used by some of the rich and powerful as a retreat.
They pulled up to what could only be described as a gray stone mansion. He stepped out of the air car onto the cobblestone driveway and felt like he was stepping back into history.
“It's a pleasure to meet you, Commodore,” a woman said from the open doorway. He turned and smiled to her. “Let them get that,” she said as he went to grab his bag. He paused and then nodded to a servant as the Neocat shouldered his bag. The Neojaguar picked up the box and tucked it under his arm, then the last bag and then the driver shut the trunk.
“Only the brown bag is mine. The rest is from Miss Sema,” Horatio explained.
“You travel light, sir,” the cat observed.
“That's it. I'm just here for a day or so,” Horatio replied with a shrug.
“I see sir,” the cat said with a flick of his ears.
“Monroe will put that in your room, Commodore,” the woman said as he approached her. She was tall and slender with a roman nose and classical looks. She had her red hair in curls and done up. “I'm Ingrid by the way,” she said with a smile as she extended her hand. “Ingrid Sema. If you didn't notice from the hair and looks, I married into the family,” she said with a grin.
“Charmed,” Horatio said as he took the delicate hand, shook it, and then bowed slightly.
Her smile widened slightly as he let her hand go. “I'm the one who is charmed,” she preened. “I couldn't resist meeting you,” she said.
“Thank you, ma'am,” he said.
“Come, this way,” she said as she turned to walk. She looked over her shoulder and curled her finger to get him to follow. “You are the first person from outside the solar system to visit us. I dare say most of the family will want to stop in if they can arrange it,” she said.
“Always my luck to be an oddity,” he said with a trace of a smile as he saw her strut. She was in a fetching flowered dress and had nice legs.
“Do you mind?” she asked with a hint of concern in her voice.
“No, not really. Moira asked me to pass on some messages and gifts when I came, ma'am,” he explained.
“Don't call me, ma'am; it makes me feel old. I'm Ingrid,” she said with a brief smile. “Sven is at work still, and the kids are in school. So, you've got a little bit to rest before you get pummeled and driven crazy with questions,” she said, smile turning into a grin.
He snorted.
“I've got to ask, Moira, you said?” she asked coyly.
He chuckled. “Yeah, we … hit it off. Briefly. She wanted a tour guide,” he said.
“I see,” Ingrid said with a nod. “Well, my sister-in-law always did have good taste,” she said, sizing him up. He felt like blushing. “And she always had a thing for older men, especially those in uniform,” she observed with a cat-like smile.
Horatio snorted.
She led him up a curving staircase. The change in elevation finally broke him out of the spell of paying attention to his hostess. He looked around and nodded. It was a nice room, awash with color from various paintings. The white ivory walls made the paintings pop.
“I love this old house. Sven might find the commute tedious, but I love being away from it all,” Ingrid said as Monroe brought up their rear.
Horatio caught sight of an Olympic-sized pool out the window. There were a few people lounging about it. "It is beautiful, ma'am. It harkens back to the homes on Terra,” he said politely.
“Doesn't it? Far better than a ticky tacky condo in a metal and glass building in the middle of the city,” Ingrid said. “Some like to be near the center of power. We have a condo in case Sven is held over, but this …,” she gestured grandly. “This lets us unwind, to decompress,” she said.
He nodded. “Thank you for letting me see it, ma'am,” he said.
“I did tell you not to call me that,” she rounded on him, green eyes flashing as she shook a stern finger at him.
He held up his hands and smiled politely. “Ingrid. Sorry,” he said.
“Better, Commodore.”
“I'll tell you what. You stop calling me commodore and call me Horatio, and I'll try to behave and call you Ingrid,” he offered.
“Try?” she demanded, hands on her hips as Monroe passed them.
“I'm a male. We never behave perfectly. I mean, what's the fun in that?” he asked roguishly. That earned a startled chuckle from the woman.
“True, too true,” she said as she swung about and continued their journey. They stopped at an open door, and she motioned for him to step in. He stepped in and blinked. It was quite nice, opulent with a four-poster bed draped in white silk curtains. Matching curtains were tied on either side of the large windows. One set wasn't a set of windows at all he noted on closer inspection. They were French doors that led to a balcony.
“I'm feeling very spoiled,” Horatio said with a shake of his head.
“Good,” Ingrid said smugly. “We do aim to please,” she said as she clapped her hands together. Monroe came out of the closet, bowed over his closed fist, then stood at attention.
“I think that will be all, Monroe
. Unless you'd prefer a snack, Horatio?” Ingrid asked.
Horatio shook his head. “I'm good, ma'am,” he said.
“Very well then. Dinner is …”
“At six, ma'am. Your husband said he'd be home by then,” Monroe said quietly.
“He'd better be,” the matriarch said in mock severe tones. She waved and the Neocat departed silently. “I must say, he's efficient, but there are times his silent padding and brooding can scare the bejeezers out of the unwary,” she said.
Horatio snorted. “I noticed you let him call you, ma'am,” he teased wickedly. She turned a mock glare on him and then chuckled again at herself as he gave her his best innocent expression.
“Touché',” she replied dryly. “I need to check on the rest of the family and make certain the children finish their homework. I'll see you at dinner,” she said.
“Thank you, Ingrid,” he said.
“Feel free to relax, walk the grounds, or go for a swim. You've got the time,” she said with an airy wave of her hand as she left.
He snorted and then went to check on his gear. Once he found it all put away, he shook his head and then went out to the balcony. The view of the forests and lake beyond stopped him just as the smells and sounds crashed over him. It was beautiful; the vid screen didn't do it justice.
~<><{<^>}><>~
He met most of the family at dinner. He could tell who in the family who was directly related to Moira by their shared looks and hair color. He was introduced to Maggie and Joffery, then to Sven when he hurriedly came in and darted a kiss on his wife's cheek.
“Sorry,” Sven said. “I got held up,” he said quietly.
“More like you got too caught up in flying, dear. I know you love it, but there is a time and place for all things,” Ingrid said severely as she eyed her husband.