by Chris Hechtl
The lieutenant shook his head in bemusement as he watched him go. “What have I gotten myself into?” he asked.
~<><{<^>}><>~
First one, then two, then a trickle of businesses began to inquire about applying for permits to take up a place in the Harbor Station. A sandwich shop corporation was one of the first places to apply. It was quickly followed by a restaurant chain and then a dentist. Then a Satyre tailor and Italian restaurant chain. The trickle turned into a torrent as some saw great opportunity to establish a franchise there since there would be so many people coming through the station.
Hundreds and then thousands of civilians applied for work on the station. The media latched onto the story with glee. President K'k'R'll's press corps was besieged by the reporter pool with requests for comment and for a hard schedule on when the administration would open the base up to the general population.
They also touched on requests for businesses to renew trade with Nuevo and the Federation. Some businesses and even major banks wanted to open franchises on the station, on Nuevo, and elsewhere in the Federation. Some of the talking heads in the media were leery of outside competition coming into their market and impacting their economy.
But the logjam was starting to move, the Veraxin president thought. There was still a dam in the form of Admiral Childress and his faction, but with mounting pressure, it was only a matter of time before his followers started to part ways with him. His dam would start to spring leaks, and those leaks would weaken the structure to the point of eventual collapse.
Of that he had no doubt. The question was, when. Another important question was, what would the human do to try to stop it?
~<><{<^>}><>~
Three weeks after arriving in the star system Sweet Revenge made her good byes. The medium freighter lumbered to the jump point not quite fully loaded but not empty either. She had two dozen civilians eager for a fresh start, a taste of adventure, and a chance to make their fortune on the station. She also carried a dozen delegates and one army platoon ready to be shipped to Agnosta, along with their immediate family members.
The civilians and army troops occupied a series of cargo pods that had been hastily refit into berthing compartments by the crew. They would have time on the journey out to continue the retrofit to make them more comfortable.
Two other cargo pods had live animals in them, including chickens. One cargo pod was stuffed to the deck heads with equipment for one of the restaurants. Horatio hadn't been certain about what restaurant equipment was available for use in Quantum, nor their condition.
The restaurant also had three other cargo pods with food stuffs, tables, and a reefer for meat and perishables. The station crew had five other pods of food stuffs for their own use. With judicious recycling and the food replicators, Horatio hoped to stretch it.
Ten other cargo pods had been filled with water in the form of ice. Ice was far easier to transport than liquid water, though it had to be kept cold to remain frozen.
One cargo pod contained valuable seeds. A pair of elderly gardeners had volunteered to go with them. One was a retired college horticultural professor. The idea of gardening among the stars had been irresistible to the duo.
There was much more, but Horatio was content with just those jewels for the moment as they exited the star system.
Chapter 50
“Make a hole!” a throaty bass voice snarled as its owner moved with incredible speed through the corridors of Fortress 1. It was the middle of evening watch, but that didn't seem to matter. Red lights and klaxons were going off and personnel were rushing to their duty stations.
Admiral Toronto raced through the corridors on all fours, bounding through and in some cases bowling over a few lesser beings in his haste to get to the command deck.
He rumbled a growl at the marine guard as he passed through the open blast doors and entered the command deck. Bedlam met him as people chattered about the sight.
“Silence!” he bellowed. That instantly restored order in the compartment. He looked around, grimly pissed at the loss of professionalism. He would see that a few of the officers got their asses reamed for it. But for the moment that was going to have to wait.
“Report,” he said after a moment. He exhaled in a chuff then stood straight as he looked over to Captain Bjornson.
“Sir, we've got an unscheduled arrival. The ship is squawking an IFF, the Harmony of Space. She is a passenger liner,” the captain said as the Neogorilla strode to the central plotting table.
“The IFF has been confirmed?”
“Yes, sir. Lieutenant JG V'r'n'll is her prize master. We've confirmed him, sir.”
“Who the hell …,” the Neogorilla stopped himself. “How?” he demanded. “And why did Pyrax send that?” he demanded, indicating the massive civilian ship on the plot.
“They didn't sir,” the captain said. “Fortress 3 confirmed the Veraxin, apparently, two of the officers there went to the academy with him,” the captain replied. “Sir, she's not from Pyrax. She's from B-102c. She has been salvaged.”
“Obviously,” the admiral stated, eyeing the ship warily. “You said Fortress 3 confirmed her crew?”
“Yes, sir. Apparently, Harmony broadcast her IFF in the clear just after she exited hyperspace. They cut it a little close, sir,” he said, indicating how close to the inner edge of the jump zone area the ship had come. His hand pulled the scene back to show the spherical zone. Harmony had jumped in within a half a million kilometers of the inner edge of the jump zone and practically on top of Fortress 3. The admiral made a mental side bet that there were people on that fortress who needed a change of underwear.
“Omni … so just about everyone knows about her or they soon will,” the admiral stated. Something told him taking his old job back to get away from Command 1 wasn't going to turn into the safe move he'd planned. Someone was going to catch it in the neck, and with Childress's love of scapegoats, he knew who the bastard would go after.
And there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. He'd been caught up in the works. But there was no telling the human asshole that, he thought.
“Stand down to readiness two. Get me that ship; I want to talk to them. They are not going anywhere until I confirm who is on board myself. Prep a boarding party to physically check,” he ordered.
“Aye aye, sir.”
The Neogorilla's eyes widened as a sudden thought caught up to his distracted mind. “You said she was salvaged?” he demanded, turning to the captain. The captain spread his hands helplessly.
“Right, you don't know. I don't know why I bothered asking. Well, we'll get the answers at any rate,” the Neogorilla said. He flicked his artificial arm and then flexed its fingers then pretended to crack his knuckles. “I'll start my report to Command 1.”
“Yes sir. We're standing down to Readiness 2 now,” the captain said with a pitched voice. He nodded his chin to a Veraxin who signaled acceptance of the order silently. “And we'll pass the orders to have the boarding party assembled,” he said, looking over to a Neorottweiler commander. The female nodded back and then turned to her station to quietly issue orders.
“Good. Wish they'd timed it better. I was having a nice night,” the Neogorilla said sourly. “So much for that,” he muttered darkly.
~<><{<^>}><>~
“This has been confirmed?” L'r'kk demanded. He glanced over to the president.
“Yes. The navy is trying to throw a classified blanket on it, but the initial transmission was in the clear. The news agencies are handling it with kid gloves at the moment. Alleged this and that,” Sven Sema said in disdain. “I think some are being a little too careful with it.”
“We can't let him sweep this under the rug. I think that's the knee jerk reaction to this. He's gearing up for it,” L'r'kk said.
“He as in Childress?” the president asked carefully.
“Exactly. Did you catch the part about it being salvage? Somehow I don't think they expected the ship, which is emba
rrassing. Obviously the good commodore rewrote a part of his orders.
“Or he finished them. One wonders what he had in mind. Was this it all along?”
“Yes,” Amanda Tanaka said. “One wonders. And is it true there is an ansible in B-102c?” She turned to look at Sven.
“We're still getting confirmation of that through our sources in the Admiralty. Obviously, things are a little out of whack, and the stories are getting mixed up. Now ONI is clamping down so our sources are ducking and covering.”
“But why there and not here?” Amanda demanded.
“Your guess is as good as mine at this point,” Sven said with a shrug. “We'll find out.”
“I think it is a boon in some ways,” L'r'kk said slowly. The others looked at the Veraxin in surprise. “No, I'm serious. As much as we'd like to have it here, having it there means Childress can't 'accidentally' blow it up,” he said sourly.
“Lucky we know about it at all. If it even really exists,” Amanda mused.
“True.” L'r'kk looked over to the Veraxin president. “So, we go forward with the press release, sir?”
President K'k'R'll gave a human-style nod. “Yes. Now. Everything we've got that is confirmed gets out there. Any questions we refer to the Admiralty.”
“They'll just love that,” Amanda said. Sven snorted.
~<><{<^>}><>~
Admiral Childress watched the press conference and fumed. He was less concerned about being preempted and having his thunder stolen so much as publicly acknowledging the arrival of the ship. Not that he'd had much choice. The ship had transmitted in the clear upon arrival, so everyone knew about it.
He would have the prize captain's ass for putting him in the position. The bug didn't know it, but his career in the navy, and most likely in the private sector were over. But for the moment he had to deal with the fall out.
He glanced at his buzzing phone. Half of his lines were busy with people waiting impatiently on hold. Some were people who should know better than to come direct to him right off. Others were his mother's backers who probably wanted their own confirmation and to get a general idea on how he was going to handle the situation.
At the moment he wasn't certain. He hadn't planned on the bastard being able to pull it off.
~<><{<^>}><>~
The Bek public was shocked and elated when the administration confirmed the rumors that another ship, a different one, had arrived at the jump point. They received confirmation of the ship's name, Harmony of Space. Flocks of reporters descended on the navy's public affairs department. Others called their contacts in the navy for their own information and confirmation.
As the story got out, consternation set in at the achievement Ilmarinen and the navy had achieved. The fact that Horatio had managed to build the station wasn't lost on anyone, but that they had also scraped together the material and crew to send a prize crew with the first rebuilt ship back to Bek quickly hit the media like a bomb. Consternation was topmost, but that quickly gave way to more elation, pride, and excitement.
It hit the Admiralty just about the same way but for different reasons. For some, entirely different emotions were involved. Admiral Childress was shocked by the ship's accomplishment. Initially, he and his closest supporters were in denial of the achievement and insisted the public affairs department hold off on confirmation of anything. The admiral wanted badly to hide the ship, but he was forced to give that up when video of the ship got into the hands of the media.
Confirmation quickly followed with amateur and professional astronomers turning their telescopes on the ship and her escort. Additional video hit the media forcing the public affairs department to confirm the ship.
Some of the Childress's pet media continued to insist the images could be faked, but they quickly faded into the background.
Rumors swirled around the ship. It was nearly impossible to keep a lid on it. “We've got a download from this ship. She is who she says she is; we've got a crew on board. They've confirmed the prize crew, all except the sleeper navigator,” Admiral Draken stated.
“And the news that this is the second ship they've sent us?” Admiral N'r'm'll asked. “I wonder what happened to the first?” the bug asked.
“Who cares,” Admiral Childress said sourly. Admiral Zekowitz stiffened slightly. He'd been brought in as an expert, but Admiral Childress had warned him to keep his ears open and his mouth shut. He had vowed to do his best to follow that suggestion as best he could. Especially considering the foul mood of the Bekian CNO and his closest supporters on the senior staff.
“I wonder how he did it,” Admiral Draken stated. He turned to Zek and then to Admiral Childress. “I've gone over the reports that Harmony carries.” He left out the part about the reports he had been allowed access to. Apparently, Admiral Childress had slapped a classified label on everything that had come through the ansible. No surprise there, the Chimera thought.
“How did he do it? It seems impossible,” the vice admiral asked, looking over to Zek.
Admiral Zekowitz grimaced at the question directed to him. Apparently, the vice admiral had forgotten his own suggestion he thought. “Well, first, we gave him a factory ship—a ship with a highly motivated and skilled crew,” he said cautiously.
“But … but we only sent the replicators we had …”
“Which he used to the fullest, sir,” Zek replied, “along with any salvage they picked up with the wrecked ships. He also has keys and used them. I haven't seen the reports so I am not certain how he did it beyond that speculation though, sir,” he said, glancing from Admiral Draken to Admiral Childress.
Admiral Childress scowled blackly. “Damn busy body …”
“Sir?” Zek asked politely.
“Nothing. Never mind,” Admiral Childress snarled as he clenched and unclenched his fists on the edge of the conference table.
“Yes, sir. If that is all?” Zek asked formally.
“Get out of here,” the admiral said, waving a hand. Zek nodded; face a mask as he rose from his seat. He snapped to attention and then moved out.
Admiral Childress watched him go with baleful eyes. They had Zek contained in the Academy teaching the engineering department. He was occasionally consulted when a thorny issue with the modernization efforts caused a problem. Zek was never critical, but Omar knew that the rear admiral had to resent his posting and knew he was being underutilized.
Well, that was just too damn bad, he thought angrily. He should have known better than to come back. He was going to get crappy postings until he got the hint and retired or resigned.
He had no idea how the hell the bastard had managed to make so many parts. Did they really have that many keys? He shook his head. He had to appreciate the gall in sending back a fully-loaded ship. A ship loaded with civilian scavenged crap, but valuable crap, he thought. The hyperdrives alone were worth a lot. And since they were civilian grade, they didn't have the military self-destruct packages to deal with. His mother and the other companies were already slavering over getting their hands on them.
And then there was the question of the ship. Ships plural apparently, he thought sourly. How many could he afford to send? He wasn't certain. He just wasn't going to get any back, he thought acidly. Eventually the commodore would be forced to send Ilmarinen back to see if the other ships made it. Then his damn station would be alone and isolated. With any luck the bastard would remain on it and die on the vine.
No, that wouldn't happen, he realized with a snort. That damn light cruiser would come toddling along and … wait, wasn't there something in there about the ship being delayed? He frowned and checked, fingers tapping out the inquiry into the search box.
The news came up and he smiled again. Yes, yes that could work to his advantage. Yes, indeed.
He didn't like it that the commodore was on his own, and in contact with Irons. But there wasn't a damn thing he could do about that at the moment.
He made certain to pass the incident reports and accident r
eports over to JAG. He wasn't certain they could make a case against the commodore, but they might find something, he thought.
“Sir? What do we do about the crew?” Admiral N'r'm'll asked carefully.
“For the moment they will keep in quarantine. I'll want ONI to debrief each of them carefully.”
“And the civilian, sir? We don't have jurisdiction over him,” Admiral Draken warned.
“To hell we don't. He sailed on a navy salvaged vessel with a navy crew. We can hold him indefinitely if necessary,” Childress vowed.
“That may not sit well with the public, sir. If the administration and media get a hold of it, we'll get a black eye—a bigger black eye. They might even appoint counsel for him or file suit to get him released,” Admiral Draken warned.
“Let them. It all goes through me,” Admiral Childress said with a sniff.
“It will make people wonder what we are trying to hide, and why. We don't want or need those questions to be brought up again, sir. We need to get this to bed as quickly as possible,” Admiral Draken stated.
“I'll think about it,” Admiral Childress said, still uncommitted.
The Chimera looked at him, then over to the Veraxin. The Veraxin signaled second-degree uncertainty and first-degree compliance, his way of shrugging and saying give it up. The Chimera nodded slightly. “Very well, sir. On the topic of the ansible? The media knows it is there.”
“We neither confirm nor deny at this point,” Admiral Childress stated bluntly. “It is military hardware so they do not have a need to know.”
“And any orders or messages for the administration? They have already requested them, sir,” the Ops officer warned.
“I'll go through them when I have time,” the admiral said thinly, eyes flashing dangerously.
“Yes, sir,” Admiral Draken said. He now had confirmation that whatever was in those orders Childress didn't like them. Lovely he thought.
~<><{<^>}><>~