Enemy of my Enemy (Horatio Logan Chronicles Book 1)

by Chris Hechtl

  Once sections were cleared and the designs frozen, they were submitted to an independent panel of experts for an independent review. That was right around the time the accountants started to get involved, and Horatio was assigned one to go over his books.

  While he was dealing with that, Lieutenant Olson was alarmed to see that the independent review process was being short circuited. They had buried the reviewers in sims, notes, and detailed projections. The normal months or yearlong process took only a day or so for each pass. That alarmed some of the team.

  Within two weeks they'd received a full green light on the project. Hull components were allocated from stores, while the blueprints of parts that had to be modified were sent to the CNC machines to be produced. Once that was underway some of the minor subassemblies were started from the sections of the design that had been frozen and had received final approval to be placed into production.

  “We're going to be building this ship in record time,” Lieutenant Holdar said with a shake of her head. “I'm almost scared to see her hull begin to actually take shape,” she said in wonder.

  “If you lack confidence in the overall design, you need to say so now and for the record,” Commander Dreamer of Ships warned her.

  “That's just it, I don't. I don't know if we're too close to the project or what. It's all going well. Too well maybe? I don't know. It's not living up to expectations anymore,” she said with a shake of her head.

  “Count your blessings,” the commander replied.

  “Maybe. But I'm reminded of the whole warning about when things go too well. That's when you aren't paying attention and something comes out to bite us in the ass,” Lieutenant Holbar warned.

  “See that it doesn't,” the commander ordered.

  “I'll do my damnedest,” she replied with a nod.

  ~<><{<^>}><>~

  Once the design was approved, they needed more funds before the ship went into full production. Horatio was ordered to talk to the Senate Military Oversight Committee and given a script.

  He was ushered in the back way to avoid the press. He wasn't surprised to find that there were no questions about Irons’ orders allowed by Senator Thurgunsson. The committee was strictly on point every single moment. A pair of commanders rode herd on him and kept the public and more importantly the press at bay during recesses.

  Horatio knew the fix was in. He noted in wry admiration that Admiral Draken had turned the black eye into his advantage by spinning it to get more funding for the navy.

  Senator Thurgunsson came out on the record to castigate the foot dragging with the naval budget. That and a concentrated attack from Childress's pet media outlets turned the tide and made the hunters in the administration become the hunted.

  Horatio wasn't happy about being used as he was, but he was not at all surprised by it or how it all played out. For his part he did his best to stay neutral in the conflict. As long as he got funding and a purpose, he was happy.

  ~<><{<^>}><>~

  Rear Admiral Zekowitz realized he was in limbo hell with no end in sight. Limbo was a bad place for an officer to be. It meant their career was stalled, and their patrons were either ducking for cover or had cut them loose. It meant he was in free fall without a safety line or a handhold. He didn't like the feeling.

  The grapevine didn't have anything for him. He was stuck shuffling paperwork in a dead end office in the yard. He'd been tempted to take some of his accumulated leave, but like Horatio he'd expected to be used. He resented that he wasn't being utilized as he should be. The only thing that kept him on was watching Horatio's project come to fruition. He was divided on it. On the one hand, he hoped it worked out, but on the other hand, he resented that Horatio had been tapped to do it in the first place. It was something he should have been given. But apparently the brass was fickle.

  The only thing worse than his current dilemma was if he was in deep shit and had been sent to an out-of-the-way posting as punishment. Which, he admitted, the powers that be had tried to do by sending him to Pyrax. It hadn't worked though, so he knew that they weren't sure what to do with him.

  They just didn't want to use him where Admiral Irons wanted him to be. That didn't bode well for him … or eventually them he thought. All he had to do was keep his head down, trap shut, and wait it out.

  ~<><{<^>}><>~

  Admiral Childress was mollified with the sudden turn of events. His wife still wasn't returning his calls, but at least the administration was in full retreat for the moment. Full funding for the year had made it through the Senate Oversight Committee thanks to Commodore Logan and especially Senator Thurgunsson.

  He ordered a wash of the design-review process. Admiral Childress hoped that the project would blow up in the commodore's face. Admiral Draken, however, was not amused though since it would bite them too. Admiral Creator of Things was more careful. He quietly supported the T'clock as the bug hauled the reviewers back and ordered them to do it right.

  ~<><{<^>}><>~

  Ten weeks after the project began, an unheard of speedy time, the navy held a public ceremony to commemorate the beginning of the ship's construction. Welders tack welded the first pieces of a keel block before the cameras.

  All of the senior staff were on hand with Logan and Zek for cameras to show them that they were all one big happy family. All of the officers were in their full formal dress uniforms. Zek was amused that Horatio had more fruit salad than any of them.

  “Of course they have to show that they are doing something,” Horatio texted in an aside to Zek as Admiral Childress spoke to the reporters about how he'd been behind the project from day one.

  “Right.”

  Horatio noted the pressure in certain media outlets to drop the story and move on. The pressure was in media outlets that he assumed were under the control of allies of Childress Shipwrights and other backers. The black eye began to spin into as a nonstory as the public got tired of hearing about it.

  He did his best to return his attention to the ship. With the story dying, Admiral Creator of Things warning took on additional weight and importance.

  With parts and help from Admiral Bolt and Commander Thistle, plus some retooling and small use of industrial replicators, ship construction moved forward at fast pace, beyond normal speed. Horatio did his best to check out every aspect of the build for problems, drawing on his years of experience running the Pyrax yard to handle issues as they inevitably cropped up. His intimate knowledge of the design, coupled with his access to his implants and the blueprints he had stored there, plus his ability to contact anyone in the staff when needed, helped to further the build along.

  When the first computer core was installed, he had it loaded with software including a dumb A.I. The A.I. would go a long way to oversee the construction of the ship since it was inside it and had the plans in its memory.

  ~<><{<^>}><>~

  Commander Thistle shook his head and thought about how unfair the universe and the navy operated. The gods of space seemed to have it out for him. It wasn't fair. Alice Walengrad had gotten her posting! She wasn't thrilled about being stuck in Albacore, but she'd made it work for herself and it was improving. Especially since her modifications, with his help, had helped her ship trounce all their competition in the last series of exercises.

  He grimaced. Here he was, an engineering commander, and he'd been passed over for a posting on a ship, in the yard, or in a fort or base. Instead he was stuck running the logistics at a pair of orbital warehouses. Admiral Bolt had thought it funny to hand him command of a second orbital warehouse complex on top of the one he already had under his command.

  Apparently, the diminutive admiral had talked to someone because he'd eased up on the demands for weekly full inventories. It still didn't make the Chimera commander happy or thrilled to be under his command.

  There had been one glimmer of light for the entire thing he'd been going through. He'd found one of the warehouses where some of Caroline's cargo was stored. He'd ma
de a note of it, and that note had come in handy when BuShips had green-lit the Ilmarinen project and orders had come in to secure some of the parts for her construction from that stash.

  In between running logistics and answering questions people called in, Weaver had found another job to occupy his free time. Requests had poured in from the various ships for parts to match Albacore. BuShips hadn't been happy about what Alice had done. They hadn't exactly been authorized changes, but her skipper had backed her so they'd eventually backed off or just paused to regroup. He wasn't sure.

  Since he couldn't provide many parts, he'd found himself pulling up the manuals and tried to train those who were interested in modern technology and equipment with those. It was hit or miss with some personnel; they just didn't get it. After awhile, he'd set-up a website with the manuals, frequently asked questions and answers, then tagged any follow-up questions to the academy engineering department.

  That hadn't earned some friends, but it had taken some of the heat off himself and allowed him to focus on his “proper” job and gotten Admiral Bolt off his butt for being distracted.

  He'd heard that a few officers and noncoms had been warned off pursuing some of the hardware. Scuttlebutt said a few had been transferred, and at least one chief engineer had been forced into early retirement over a threat of a court-martial for insubordination.

  He shook his head when the hammer came down. He got an encrypted e-mail from Alice. Apparently, when she'd been in port, someone from ONI had landed on her for her efforts. She had been explicitly ordered not to train any more of her personnel on the equipment since she was not cleared and the tech was considered classified.

  He knew she was frustrated and stymied, but her skipper had backed her to keep doing what she was doing. He had a mental side bet that Alice was sulking over the situation. She'd ended her e-mail with a vow that when the weekends came and she was off her ship she'd get away from everything navy and get rip-roaring drunk.

  He wished the best for her. Hell, he wished he could join her.

  Once BuShips started to build Ilmarinen, his hopes had soared a bit, then plummeted when he'd heard some of the hijinks they had started to pull the moment the cameras had switched off.

  It just wasn't fair. He had his hopes on the tender; he wanted on her bad. So bad he could taste it. He managed to talk to Horatio on the sly when the commodore came around to check on the hardware he'd set aside for the tender. Horatio, however, cut him off and then switched the conversation to their implant comms so that they could text chat.

  “We are being monitored by ONI,” Horatio stated during the text chat. Weaver's eyes widened, then narrowed in speculation. Horatio shrugged such considerations off. He looked around the room and then checked the manifest. His hands flicked, typing minisculely.

  “Thank you for your help with the logistics. I know you aren't where you want to be,” he paused. “Or where you are needed,” Horatio texted, “but you have gone a long way to help the project along. We're getting there,” he said.

  “Thank you, sir. Is it too early to put in to be her chief engineer?” Weaver asked in earnest.

  Horatio chuckled and clasped the man on his shoulder. “I'll put a good word in for you, but I think Admiral Bolt likes you too much to let you go anytime soon,” he said.

  Weaver groaned, thin tail thrashing and then drooping. He hung his head for a minute. “I should have known, always the bridesmaid, never the bride,” he quipped.

  Horatio's chuckle turned into a laugh.

  “Wait, he likes me?” Weaver said, clearly astounded by that idea. He turned wide accusing eyes on Horatio, but Horatio merely smiled and shrugged. Weaver shook his head. “This star system gets screwier and screwier,” he muttered.

  ~<><{<^>}><>~

  Horatio was glad he had the map of the puzzle palace worked out and loaded into his implants. ONI and security didn't like any map being “unsecured,” so he'd had to generate his own and then combine it with what Pietro had created. It had helped him stay on time for meetings in out of the way places in the warren of offices in Command 1.

  He blinked as he rounded a corner and noted a familiar marine officer standing there patiently waiting as if for someone. He nodded once. “General,” he said quietly as he started to continue on his way.

  “Got a moment, Commodore?” the white Neogorilla asked in a gruff voice as he turned to Horatio. Horatio paused his stride and turned. “I'd like to have a chat with you if you don't mind,” the Neogorilla said, indicating an open office.

  Horatio nodded slowly. He followed General Yetmister into the office. “Close the door,” the general ordered.

  “Yes, sir,” Horatio said. Technically, they were both O-9 and therefore of the same rank. He knew though that the general had been a brigadier for decades however. Besides, he was the senior-most serving marine in the star system.

  “First off, I borrowed the office. We've got a few minutes,” the brigadier said, indicating they should take a seat. Horatio nodded, amused by the brigadier's attempt at leveling the playing field by taking seats next to each other. Then again, he might have disdained the seat behind the desk since it was a saddle clearly not made up for either of their species.

  He knew only a few bits about the marine. Zek had passed on that the marine's nickname had been Yeti during his early years. That had transmogrified to General Yeti or Cold Miser when he'd taken on flag rank. “What can I do for you, sir?” Horatio asked.

  “I've had my people screen this room,” the white Neogorilla said. He tapped a blue plastic hemispherical device on the desk. “We're clear to talk.”

  “Yes, sir,” Horatio said in an even more wary tone of voice. He instantly turned his recorders on. The device buzzed angrily.

  “Damn it …,” the marine poked the device a few times with a stiff finger.

  “It's reacting to me and my implants, sir,” Horatio stated. The Neogorilla turned his blue eyes on Horatio as the commodore changed his recorder to passives only. “I'm stepping down my implants now,” he said. After a moment, the device stopped buzzing and a yellow light blinked on top of it then turned to green.

  “Okay,” the brigadier said. “Glad we've got that settled,” he growled. He eyed Horatio as he sat back in the chair. It creaked a little but seemed up to handling his weight. “I'm not trying to get you into any trouble. I know you and Zek are in a hell of a crack. Unfortunately, I can't do a damn thing to help you,” he said.

  “Thank you for understanding, sir,” Horatio said cautiously.

  “I also wanted to thank you for looking after my boys and girls,” the brigadier said as he scrubbed a hand over his chin and mouth.

  Horatio leaned forward slightly but then back as he caught on. “Marines have a tradition of rising through the ranks. It must be hard with Bek's … tradition against it, sir. I'm glad to help,” he said with a nod.

  “I know. My question is, are there real marines out there now? I met a couple of the kids from Caroline; they looked good. But are they really holding up the traditions of the Corps? And are they being fully trained for the service?”

  Horatio nodded, glad things were on an easy playing field. “Yes, sir. It hasn't been easy, but all three branches have been rebuilt. The marines and army are based on Agnosta.”

  The general nodded and scrubbed his hairy chin again, then ran his massive hand over his melon and massive head. “I suppose my orders are to whip my boys and girls into shape. To get them combat ready.”

  “I think you've got most of it covered, sir,” Horatio said cautiously. “I've heard your people do good work with boarding actions,” he said. “If Admiral Irons or General Forth wanted you to make broad changes, they would have sent a marine officer with us,” he said.

  The general eyed him and then slowly nodded. “True,” he rumbled after a long moment. “Well, we march pretty,” he said sourly, looking away after a moment. His hands turned into massive fists, then unclenched slowly. “Right now that's all w
e're being allowed to do. Hold up a bulkhead and march pretty,” he growled.

  Horatio didn't say anything. There really was nothing he could say; he'd seen the new budget. The marine's exercise and training budgets had been partially gutted to the bone for some reason. Horatio noted the general was looking away, most likely thinking dark thoughts about the same thing.

  “You've taught them, sir. They'll do what they can with what they've got,” Horatio said.

  “I know. We Marines are used to secondhand and being shorted. I tried to keep it from getting too out of hand. I'll keep trying,” the Neogorilla said stubbornly. He turned to eye the commodore. “I don't suppose you have a copy of my orders? One I could see? I know they wouldn't be official. This stays between you and me,” he said as Horatio stiffened slightly. “I can't do much, but I'd like to prepare my people the best I can for what is expected of them when they deploy outside of Bek you see,” he explained.

  Horatio nodded slowly as he thought fast. It could turn around and bite him in the ass. Even though the meeting was being shielded, ONI undoubtedly noted who he was meeting with and that it had been shielded. Which meant eventually it would indeed bite him. But … He looked around and then found a stack of flash chips in a cup on the desk. He reached in and pulled one out and checked it. It was clean and had plenty of memory so he put it on his palm and downloaded the orders. He was careful to make sure they were just the orders for the general.

  When he was finished, he silently held the chip up and then extended it to the general.

  “Just like that?” the general chuffed as he took the chip and examined it. “That easy,” he murmured.

  “You may want to put that in a reader that's not connected to the net, sir,” Horatio said. “And yes, it's that easy,” Horatio said.

  “I see. Implants?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The Neogorilla chuffed again thoughtfully as he placed the chip into his breast pocket and then sealed the flap. He cocked his head as he looked at Horatio again. “Okay, that just brought up another big question. Are implants all they are cracked up to be?” he asked.