by Chris Hechtl
“I'm not sure we can at this point. We're directing him, but the tech spillover is causing problems. And we've got people asking why we're not moving faster. The more questions that start to pile up, the more problems we're going to have dealing with them.”
“Let alone answering them.”
“They know our history. They should know the reasons,” Admiral Childress growled.
“They are caught up in the excitement of the moment. Too concerned about getting there first ahead of the competition. For the moment denying it to everyone has worked. But that won't last forever.”
“Damn it …”
“Part of the problem is Albacore,” Admiral Hill pointed out as she looked at Admiral Draken. “You let them have that, Commander. She's only doing minor changes, but they are adding up to big things,” she said. “They all want more now.”
“Wonderful,” Admiral Childress said sourly, eyeing the vice admiral. “I know you wanted to see what they could do without their toys, but I think this is also biting us in the ass. It's adding pressure we don't need. I don't need,” he said with feeling.
Admiral Draken spread his hands apart. “We wanted to see it. We have. That genie can't be put back into the bottle. We could have them rip out the changes as unauthorized, but that would cause problems in some corners. Resentment we don't need or want,” he said. “I've ordered a comprehensive list done. The commander can explain what she did and we'll pass it on to the other ships. They can build off her successes,” he said.
“Which only means they'll force her and Albacore to stay ahead of the competition,” Admiral N'r'm'll pointed out.
“True, but again, without their toys. There is only so much she can do without breaking something. And when she does …,” Admiral Draken shrugged.
“We nail her,” Admiral Childress said with a nod and grim smile. “She'll get her head handed to her. That'll spike their guns,” he said.
“Possibly, sir,” Admiral Draken murmured. He wasn't certain it would work. Most likely it would, but he wasn't certain. He also wasn't comfortable about sacrificing the commander, but she was a pawn. In the end, if he had to sacrifice her for the good of the game … well, it wasn't nice but he was in it to win it.
Pawns were after all, expendable.
~<><{<^>}><>~
Horatio tracked down Admiral Zekowitz to talk about the incident. Zek was clearly nonplussed about being the commodore's sounding board, but he was aware that Horatio didn't have anyone else to turn to. He also sympathized with the other man. He just wasn't certain how much of his neck he wanted to stick out as well. He texted a warning about ONI listening in, but Horatio merely smiled.
That made him wonder if Horatio was venting deliberately.
“I'm not sure if I handled it as well as I should. I made certain it was public. I mean, she ambushed me in the hallway, in the port, and was following me. But when she tried to get frisky in the supply closet …”
Zek stifled a snort. “Don't ever be in the room alone with the woman. Not for a moment.”
Horatio nodded. “I've got my implants recording anytime she or another person is around. I've got a running log of everything I do going as well. I don't want to open myself up to an accusation of impropriety. I'm not sure what else I can do though. Obviously avoid her or keep interactions in public or with a third party as much as possible.” He grimaced and scrubbed his face with a frustrated hand. “I requested her transfer. That is still working its way through channels. I left the reasoning vague however. I don't want something to come back and bite me in the ass.”
“Good.” Zek bit back an explanation. Horatio seemed on top of the problem, but he wasn't certain if the man understood the consequences. Or that he was being set-up by higher powers to fail.
Then his eyes widened ever so slightly as he realized Horatio had just announced all that out loud. Clearly, he did know something was afoot and was putting people on notice that he was taking steps to cover his own ass. He nodded slowly. “I'm glad you are being pro-active about the situation,” he finally said.
“I have to be. I don't want to malign her as an officer; I don't know her well enough. I'm assuming this isn't common …?” he asked. When Zek snorted and shook his head, he grunted. “I thought not, sir. But I wasn't certain.”
Zek nodded. “Just … stay safe. Just an accusation can be a career killer,” he said.
Horatio nodded. “I know. Admiral Irons ran into a similar problem in Pyrax. It has taken years to clear his reputation, even with witnesses and his own recordings to back him up. It still haunts him to this day.” He grimaced. “I understand why he lands hard on people who play those sorts of games. Getting burned like that,” he shook his head.
Zek nodded again, realizing the other part of Horatio's message was being delivered. His patron might not be around, but Irons would be watching.
He wasn't certain if Horatio understood distance as well as time was between him and Irons however. They were on their own, which didn't bode well for the future for either of them.
~<><{<^>}><>~
“I've got my implants recording anytime she or another person is around. I've got a running log of everything I do going as well. I don't want to open myself up to an accusation of impropriety. I'm not sure what else I can do though. Obviously avoid her or keep interactions in public or with a third party as much as possible.”
Admiral Hill grimaced as she listened to that statement again for the third time. That told her Admiral Childress's ploy wasn't going to work. It also told her that she needed to read up a bit more on implant tech. She'd blinded herself to it for too long. His ability to record would destroy any attempt at a he said-she said destructive campaign. And the implied warning about Irons … she didn't like it. She wasn't completely certain what Logan was playing at, but she knew a backhanded slap and reminder to play nice when she heard one.
Unfortunately, she was pretty certain it would fall on deaf ears. Admiral Childress was dead set on either taking the Pyraxian officers down or neutralizing them. She checked the clock on the wall then finished tidying up her report before she left to present it to the rest of the senior staff.
Something told her that her boss wasn't going to like it. Not one little bit.
~<><{<^>}><>~
“The man's a saint, a monk,” Admiral Childress growled as he poured himself a drink. He set the bottle down and sat back cradling his drink. He took a sip and tried to force himself to relax. As usual it wasn't as easy as he'd wanted it to be.
Part of the problem was the company he was currently keeping. In the room were most of the movers and shakers of the navy. At least, those in Bek, he thought with a mental grimace. Things had changed since Caroline had come. And her return hadn't bode well for things to come he reminded himself.
“He's human. We all have needs. He's in a frustrating stressful position. You're telling me he's not seeing someone? Even a professional?” Admiral N'r'm'll asked.
“We're monitoring his whereabouts at all times. He's not seeing a pro; we don't have any on base that I am aware of,” Admiral Hill responded.
“No, of course not,” the Veraxin said hastily.
“Well, Fazim is a dead end. She's pissed too. We might as well pull her,” Admiral Draken said. “Word is getting around the office. People are starting to look into her history.”
“Yes, they are. I noticed the commodore's look was pretty in-depth,” Admiral N'r'm'll stated. “Others around his office and outside it are starting to access her file. I couldn't gloss over everything. It's going to start some uncomfortable questions soon if they compare notes.”
“We're lucky Logan hasn't figured it out yet. And Zek is his only patron?”
“So far. Zek is keeping a low profile though, just advising Logan to do the same. He hasn't come out against us or anything if that's what you are implying, sir,” Admiral Hill said. Admiral Draken flicked his fingers to show he hadn't been. “Most of the current captains and flag of
ficers in engineering have too much invested with the contractors to take him under their wing. They don't want to risk their future career paths out of the navy,” the Neochimp said nastily.
Admiral N'r'm'll indicated first-degree agreement. “True. However, many are now looking beyond Bek. They are looking to the rest of the galaxy. Service can now be extended. They can get antigeriatric meds outside here. Using them as bargaining chips here is only partially successful,” the Veraxin warned.
“I honestly didn't think of that,” Admiral Draken murmured thoughtfully. “It's one less carrot in our arsenal, though it's nice of Admiral Irons to supply us with them,” he said.
“He put in for Fazim's transfer yesterday morning as I pointed out. Can we use that?” Admiral N'r'm'll asked.
“No, but he gave us the tool to transfer her without doing it ourselves. Keep it quiet. Throw her a bone or something,” Admiral Hill said, shaking her head.
“She's spitting mad enough as it is. It'll have to be a big bone,” the Veraxin warned.
“Bone. Boner, whatever. The woman will play ball with us. She knows not to bite the hand that feeds her,” Admiral Childress said dismissively.
“I wonder sometimes what she's got on some of us,” Admiral Draken said looking at the others.
“Don't go there. I'm a happily married man,” Admiral Childress said, playing with his wedding band.
“Sure you are, sir,” Admiral Draken drawled boldly. They both knew Admiral Childress might love his wife publicly, but she was an old crone now. He hadn't been able to secure antigeriatric meds for her since they were reserved for military personnel only. He'd also had regular affairs with others over the decades, an open secret. Admiral Childress glared at him none the less.
“He hasn't been groundside since his last leave. He's been on the station. The man eats, sleeps, and breathes work—just like the others,” Admiral Hill interjected.
“Great, another workaholic. Just what we need,” Admiral N'r'm'll said. “One with little or no social skills to speak of. I guess we can count our blessings there,” he buzzed.
“If we took him off the leash, he'd probably blitz across the shipyard and get a lot done,” Admiral Draken stated.
“Or tear it all up and screw up our current build schedules,” Admiral Childress said acidly.
“Which should be put on hold or scrapped anyway. The ships might be paid for, but they are obsolete now. You and I both know that, sir,” Admiral Draken stated, eyeing his boss.
The admiral's jaw flexed as all eyes fell on him. “Damn it …”
“We're building ships for the past that we don't need. He's right about that,” Admiral Hill pointed out, also sticking her neck out. “People are questioning why. Eventually enough pressure is going to mount that certain parties will get very uncomfortable,” she warned. “They'll push out onto a limb and then saw it off behind us,” she said.
“Damn it, no! We agreed on this!” Admiral Childress snarled, banging his fist on his armrest.
“I know, I know. And the people that back us don't want to make major disruptions into production that can hurt their bottom line,” Admiral Draken said soothingly. “But we've got to adapt, sir.”
“The contractors,” Admiral N'r'm'll buzzed, signaling second-level disgust. “They don't want us to change because they don't want to have to pay to retool and definitely do not want to adapt.”
Admiral Childress eyed the Veraxin coldly. “Right. The people who pay the bills. The people who employ thousands of lobbyists, many of them former officers to make certain senators and delegates remain in their pocket. And if they get iffy, then they just whisper about layoffs in their districts when we go through the upheaval to come.”
“Which puts it off for another day,” Admiral Draken said with a nod and grimace. He left out that it was ultimately the taxpayers who footed the bills. Well, most of them at any rate. “It isn't going to put it off forever you know.”
“No, but we can add things gradually. We've got our best people reverse engineering the tech manuals and gear Caroline brought us. They even gave us blueprints!” Admiral Childress said with a wave of his hand. “And you yourself are putting some things to work on Albacore. Don't think I don't see that,” he said, eyeing the red Chimeran.
“I know.” Sherman's grimace deepened. He stirred his drink with a swish of his hand. “The problem is I've heard that a lot of the tech needs the damn replicators or highly advanced engineering tech to be manufactured. We're not even at the tools to build the tools stage on some stuff. And trying to find a workaround means we'll be producing substandard parts.”
“Something is better than nothing,” Admiral Childress said defensively. “They need it, right?”
Admiral Draken stared at him hard. “You really think that's going to fly when those same parts get to Irons and they compare them? Do you really want to produce substandard crap, sir? It'll turn around and bite us in the ass, surer than anything,” he warned.
“No, but the alternative isn't up for discussion,” Admiral Childress said pointedly. Admiral Draken opened his mouth and then closed it again. He shot the full admiral a fulminating look and then shook his head when the other officer didn't back down. “Damn it, Admiral, we need those parts! Every damn day we're falling behind! You know Irons is going to pitch a snit!”
“What's he going to do? He's in Antigua,” Omar replied with a diffident shrug. “Send an investigator?” he indicated Horatio's image. “It won't work.”
“He has to work with us,” Admiral N'r'm'll piped up. “He'll have to learn to dance to our tune.”
“He's the president and the secretary of defense. Don't bet he won't find a way to stomp us flat if he's seriously pissed. Remember our own history here. He's got the balls and power to do it. Worse, he'll have the public on his side,” Admiral Hill warned, glancing at Admiral Draken. If she was surprised to be on the same side of the Chimera, she didn't let it show.
“They … are going to be tricky to handle. I admit that. Keeping Logan out of the public eye as much as possible is vital to … to …” Admiral Childress frowned thoughtfully.
“Go ahead and say it. Our stall strategy. That's what it amounts to. Eventually we're going to have to bite the bullet and make serious changes though. Mark my words,” Admiral Draken said, holding up a long, clawed warning finger.
Omar grimaced. He knocked back his drink then set it down with a light tap. “I was going to say don't bet on it, but I'm not so sure at this point. We need to find ways to get more of the tech into the right hands. The right kind of tech though. Tech we can live with.”
“And make sure they know who got it to them,” Admiral Hill added. The other officers looked at her. She shrugged. “What? We all know we're not going to be officers forever. The idea is to feather our nest for our future careers, right? Right?”
“Sometimes I hate this job,” Admiral Draken growled softly, not admitting anything.
“Well, the good news is, we're monitoring Logan's various projects closely. Our friends are in the loop and siphoning off his ideas. He's been very helpful in showing them how to put things into production without using a replicator. It doesn't work for everything of course, but we can produce a lot more than we'd expected. How much though …” Admiral Hill shrugged.
Admiral Childress shook his head. “They'll never be happy. Believe me, I know my mother,” he said.
“No, I suppose not. I get some of the reasoning for nanites now. You can't lay down some of the molecular designs without them, not as efficiently or cheaply,” Admiral Hill said.
“Then someone isn't trying hard enough. Our ancestors managed to do it once without nanotech. We don't want to open that can of worms,” Admiral N'r'm'll vowed.
Admiral Hill frowned thoughtfully. “What about the A.I.? They brought dozens …” She didn't mention Mercury. Her people had gotten a copy from Commander Walengrad by pretending to be in her chain of command. They had tried to examine the software bit
by bit and had been surprised by its military grade protections. They'd been thwarted by every attempt, and any attempt at copying the software had also been thwarted. At the moment, they were learning about it by actually using it.
“He can have one for the ship. One,” Admiral Childress said, holding up a finger. “I understand he's got another, a personal one used to help design stuff. See if we can get a copy.”
“I already did,” Admiral Hill admitted. The admiral stared at her. “According to our people, it was a gift from Admiral Irons, created by him personally. It isn't a true A.I., more of a smart program.”
The Neochimp rear admiral shook her head. She did her best to keep her fur from rising at the very idea. “See if he'll make another copy. We might be able to sell it to someone in the design community,” the admiral mused. “We could make a pretty penny there,” he said.
“I don't think you know how handling A.I. works, especially military A.I., sir. They have built-in safe guards to prevent that. But I'll put in the request. I'm not sure how he'll react.”
“Do it,” Admiral Childress ordered. He knocked back his second drink and then got up. “We're done here,” he said coldly.
The others looked at him as he headed for the door. When he looked back with a challenge Admiral Draken nodded dutifully but didn't rise. “Aye aye, sir.” They all watched silently as he stalked out.
~<><{<^>}><>~
The following morning Horatio noted with a sense of relief that Lieutenant Fazim had been transferred. That relief lasted for several hours as the office staff returned to something approximating normal, but then new orders came in after lunch. He read them and then grunted. Apparently, he and Lieutenant Olson had also been transferred.
His pilot project had been green-lit by Vice Admiral Creator of Things. The vice admiral had attached a short note saying he would find a budget, but for the moment, the project was just a paper study. Horatio nodded. That was understood; the ship wasn't nearly as important as getting his foot in the door.