“Point transfer in ten seconds,” Marcos intoned, snapping McKnight from her reverie as she unconsciously gripped the arms of the command chair. “Three…two…one…transfer,” Marcos reported, and McKnight felt the now-familiar sensation of space, time, and everything in between warp around the Slice of Life for an instant before the ship shuddered under the weight of its inertial sump
“Firing primary engines,” Marcos reported calmly, causing the vibrations to intensify briefly before disappearing altogether. “We’re free, ma’am; the Halibut has broken free as well.”
“Good work,” McKnight said, switching to the ship-wide intercom after seeing several MSP signals populate the mini-tactical display on her chair and finding their automated handshake protocols to be validated by Fleet HQ. “This is Lieutenant McKnight,” she said, hearing her voice amplified via the speakers throughout the ship, “may I have your attention?”
She waited for a moment while her crew paused in their duties, and every stander on the bridge turned to face her. The enormous weight she felt when they did so was still a staggeringly palpable thing. Just like every other time she had addressed the crew as their commander, the pressure was nearly enough to make her wilt.
But she set her jaw and continued, in spite of the gravity of their situation, “This crew has accomplished something that no other crew in the fleet can rival. We have been beyond the edge of the Spineward Sectors, where we were surrounded by enemies and cut off from our friends. We found the people responsible for the many attacks which we and our fellow citizens of the Spine have suffered, and we dealt them a blow from which they will never fully recover. Take a look around you,” she said, pausing and fixing a nearby bridge stander with a piercing gaze, which saw the woman turn to the man next to her and several other standers to do likewise, “the people you see, and have come to know over these last few months, are the reason you were able to make it home.”
She let the silence linger for several seconds as the weight of her words sank in with the men and women who she called shipmates. Then, just as she had seen Captain Middleton do several times before her, she added iron to her voice and continued.
“The challenges we’ve overcome were enough to break most people—or to make them shrink away in fear,” she said, her voice growing louder as she spoke, “but we did not shy away. We did not break. And we are going to report in, see to our wounded, resupply, and head right back out there…” she trailed off before adding with a grin, “after we’ve had a few weeks of shore leave, that is.”
A collective cheer arose on the bridge, and she fought against the urge to partake in the mirth and merriment. One thing which had been made abundantly clear to her after assuming command of the Slice of Life was this: while she knew her crew respected her, she also knew that she could never again be one of them. She had surrendered that right by assuming command over them, and that reality had been reinforced by the many disciplinary actions they had forced her to take since assuming command—actions which, if not taken, would have torn the ship’s already shaky morale to pieces.
She knew she was far from a competent commanding officer, but she also knew that she was bound and determined to improve on that fact. That is why she had spent the last several weeks preparing a proposal to present to the Little Admiral himself.
With any luck, she would be able to make good on her morale-building promise to her crew—and they would all be headed right back from whence they came.
“Welcome; have a seat, Lieutenant McKnight,” said Admiral Montagne, standing from behind his desk and gesturing toward the chair placed in front of it.
“Thank you, Admiral,” McKnight said levelly, fighting the rising butterflies which had seemingly multiplied several times over in recent minutes.
“I’ve been going over the logs of the Pride, as well as your own individual fitness reports and officer evaluation,” he said. “It looks like you had an interesting adventure out there—traveling to an Ancient world even.”
“Yes, sir, Admiral,” she nodded, knowing that for someone of Admiral Montagne’s ilk every single word was carefully chosen, and she knew he had just laid a scrap of bait out in hope of seeing whether or not she would take it. “The Pride went where it was needed under the command of Captain Middleton; if we hadn’t been out there, House Raubach would have been able to carry out its plans unimpeded and gained control of not only of an Ancient world with intact technological assets, but also the Elder Tech jump engines we salvaged,” she added firmly as she prepared to take his proffered bait. “However, I must protest the use of the word ‘adventure;’ we did nothing but our duty out there, Sir.”
The Admiral leaned back in his chair and gave her a level look. “I understood from reading your reports that you were against Lieutenant Commander Middleton’s disobeying direct orders from the Fleet and heading off on his own self-imposed mission beyond the edge of known space, while the fate of humanity in two Sectors was at stake,” the Admiral said coolly.
“I stand by my reports, as they were made with my best understanding of the situation at that time,” Lieutenant McKnight said professionally, having fully expected this turn in the conversation. “However, I now know that the Captain was right to do what he did. I firmly believe that if you read the reports, the events detailed within them will prove that out,” she said steadfastly.
“A true paragon, that man,” the so-called Little Admiral deadpanned, causing her face to flush and her ears to burn. She knew this, too, was a test of sorts and she was determined not to fail it. Too much was riding on her navigating the politics of command for her to give in to emotion.
“Difficult choices had to be made, Admiral, and he made them,” she said, fighting to keep the anger from her voice. “As an officer who was present while the majority of those choices were made and then carried out, I fully support his decisions.”
“Thus implying that I—who wasn’t there—ought to sit back and stop the Monday morning prime-backing, hmmm?” Admiral Montagne asked dangerously.
“Your words, not mine, Admiral,” she said tightly, determined not to give an inch. He had opened the proverbial can of worms by making personally-offensive remarks about her now-deceased CO, Captain Middleton. She would not—could not—allow those remarks to go completely uncontested, but she also knew that she needed to remain subordinate to the Admiral’s will.
“Tempting as it is to say ‘come back and speak to me of difficult choices after you’ve had an independent command of your own, Executive Officer McKnight,’ believe it or not I am actually very sympathetic to the plight of ships and Officers cut off from communication with higher command,” he said coldly. “However that brings us to the rub, doesn’t it: there was access through the ComStat Network and, in point of fact, your commander was given specific instructions—even direct orders—telling him to join us in the Battle for Elysium and not go haring off in the opposite direction.”
“The Captain was the officer at the scene, Admiral, and those orders were issued over a communications network which was known to be compromised,” McKnight flared before reining in her emotions and forcing herself to relax as she continued. “Furthermore, I resent any implication of cowardice, and if that’s how the Admiral feels—”
“The Battle for Elysium was the closest run thing this Fleet has faced since 2nd Tracto—and there were a whole blazes more warships involved!” Admiral Montagne snapped. “I don’t question your Captain’s courage, nor do I question that of you and your crew. But when I issue an Omega Priority Alert, I expect the Commanding Officers to drop whatever they’re doing and show up where they’re ordered!”
“And when there are two Omega Priority Events taking place at the same time, what are we supposed to do then, Admiral?” McKnight retorted in a regrettably hostile tone. “The Captain had an independent command and a compromised communication’s channel with Fleet Command—he made a judgment call. It was the right call, and I support it 100%.”
“I suppose it could be argued that, because we did not in fact lose the Battle at Elysium, Middleton’s judgment about priorities were correct,” said the Little Admiral—who no longer remotely resembled the disparaging moniker, having put on at least ten kilos of solid muscle since the last time she had seen him to go with barely-visible stress lines beside his eyes. “Although, by that same token, if we had failed then even if his mission had been successful—with billions of lives, dozens of worlds, and two whole Sectors lost—then instead of being the hero of the hour, he would have had to be labeled a traitor to humanity.”
McKnight was utterly infuriated by the Admiral’s callous disregard for what she and her people had been through—and had done—aboard the Pride of Prometheus. Her hands trembled with rage, but she refrained from any outbursts as she tried to think of the best way to approach this increasingly hostile Flag Officer about her proposal—which seemed more and more like a foolish fantasy now that she was sitting across from the MSP’s figurative, and literal, head.
“Under that outlook, I’m forced to say that my respect for the late Captain has actually gone up,” the Admiral continued, making McKnight’s eyes go wide in spite of her desire to suppress her increasingly volatile emotions, “since, as the much-maligned Tyrant of Cold Space, I know all about making tough calls. I dare say I’ve made more of them than you and the Lieutenant Comm—“ he stopped with pointed emphasis before finishing Captain Middleton’s official rank before correcting, “make that, Captain, combined.”
McKnight was uncertain if he was trying to wrong-foot her with his sudden shift in demeanor and verbiage, and decided the best option was to remain silent.
“However,” Admiral Montagne continued conversationally, “the problem I come down to, Senior Lieutenant, is that as an Admiral I need to know that when I give an order to rally the Fleet in defense of Humanity, that the ship commanders I’ve selected and appointed actually blasted rally.”
McKnight clenched her jaw, took a breath, and exhaled before replying. “With respect: while I don’t agree with it, I can understand your position, Admiral Montagne,” she said judiciously, carefully choosing her words because she knew with mortal certainty that they might be the last of her career. “So maybe you’re right to say that if the Main Fleet had lost at Elysium we’d be wrong, but the fact is that you won.” The Admiral opened his mouth to interrupt, but McKnight raised her hand. “Please, if you would?” she beseeched.
While he shook his head in apparent irritation, he did eventually lean back in his chair and gestured for her to continue, “By all means.”
She took a moment to gather her thoughts, knowing this was the precise opportunity she had hoped for. “If the main Fleet had lost at Elysium, the center of those Sectors would have been torn out. That’s undeniable,” she said, laying the groundwork for what was to come.
“Okay…go on,” he said with mild annoyance.
“However, can you honestly say that this Fleet would have stuck around after the main battle, in the condition it’s in even now?” she asked.
He folded his arms and shook his head, but his eyes searched McKnight’s for several seconds and it was then that she knew she had piqued his interest.
“That being the case, I think it’s safe to say,” McKnight continued measuredly, “that if we hadn’t been out there, and hadn’t done what we did, the Imperials would have been in a position to destroy everything the MSP built up by defeating the droids. Our Battle at the Bulwark destroyed over fifty ships, Admiral, and damaged even more,” she explained, having already submitted her official after-action report for his perusal a day earlier. “They could have raided or destroyed the border of the local Sectors, forcing world after world under their sway. Or they might have chosen to sit out there in silence until they’d cracked enough Ancient tech to roll up Sector 24—or maybe even the entire Spine,” she added with a hard look. “No, Admiral; you may have saved the heart of the Sector, but we saved the border of Sector 24—if not more. I understand it sticks in your craw, Sir…but it was the right call,” she finished, knowing she was treading on thin ice but also knowing she had no choice if she was to make the request she had come to make.
The silence in the room was deafening as he seemed to contemplate her passionate defense of Captain Middleton’s choice—a choice which she had, in fact, disagreed with at the time. “You’re willing to stand by that 100%—even in the face of your Admiral’s distinct displeasure?” he asked dangerously.
“I do,” she said unflinchingly, “but because I’ve done so, I understand that I have lost your confidence.” She was so concerned with moving on to the next part of her carefully-planned presentation—which involved more than a little gamesmanship on her part—that she didn’t emote as well as she would have liked before continuing, “That’s upsetting, but understandable. However, after spending two tours on the border of Sector 24, I think that we’ve done a lot of good. But there’s still a lot more to be done, which is why I’m prepared to make things easy and to resign my commiss—”
“Hold on,” Admiral Montagne interrupted, raising a hand abruptly, “I won’t deny that Middleton and I have had our…differences,” he veritably chewed on the word, “but whatever they were, he’s gone now and none of that is on you. The officers and crew of the Pride of Prometheus—including you—did stellar work on the border, and the fact that you are willing to back your Captain even at this point in the game makes your loyalty commendable. And, far from being upset at an officer who disagrees with me, finding one who will clearly and concisely tell me where and when she disagrees with me—while bringing up persuasive and logical points in a reasonably respectful manner—is something that I actually try to encourage. I don’t need to be surrounded by a bunch of ‘yes’ women out here.”
“You are…I mean…you do?” McKnight said, stunned into confusion by his unexpected end-around. She had thought it would take several more exchanges before determining whether or not Admiral Montagne genuinely valued her peoples’ contributions—and that was an essential determination to make, given the nature of the plan she had carefully concocted.
“Of course,” he said with a smile, “you’re willing to follow orders you may not necessarily agree with, and then back up your commander even in the face of pressure from higher up. On top of that, you just helped fight a major engagement and returned here with a Light Cruiser, a Cutter and a Bulk Freighter carrying an unknown high technology.”
He gave her a piercing look which somehow managed to be more intimidating than staring down the barrels of Commodore Raubach’s turbo-lasers—or those of a Droid Fleet, for that matter—but she managed not to lose her composure before he continued.
“So while you may be many things,” the Admiral said casually, “the one thing you are not is a traitor. Someone out just for herself could have easily taken the warships and sold the Elder Tech for a fortune, setting herself—and her crew—up for the rest of their lives; even purchasing a planet with the proceeds might not have been out of the question. You did all this knowing you were almost certainly in trouble for disobeying direct orders. So as far as I’m concerned, you just demonstrated your loyalty in as resounding of a fashion as possible, Lieutenant Commander.”
McKnight blinked rapidly as she tried to regain the initiative. “I don’t understand,” she said, realizing only belatedly the rank change he had slipped in at the end, “I’m only a Senior Lieutenant, Sir.”
“I think you have command potential, Lieutenant Commander,” he said. “I’m not some tyrant out to punish you, or your crew, for following the possibly mutinous orders of your commanding officer—even if you wholeheartedly agreed with him.”
“But, sir, the border…I’m not sure if I can accept—” she started, trying to figure out how to salvage her carefully-constructed proposal to have her and her crew head back out to Capital. If Admiral Montagne tried to make her the CO of one of his local ships, the opportunity to set up an intelligence network would be
lost!
“Look, the highest you’ve ever been is a ship’s Executive Officer,” Admiral Montagne said pleasantly, “so right now I’m thinking to start you off small; I’m thinking a cutter or corvette command. Just until you’ve got your feet wet as a ship’s Captain. You’ll be able to select any of your former crewmates, of course, and we’ll have to settle on the exact ship but I’m definitely going to have my eye on you. So show me you can do as good a job running a ship as you did as an XO and, I don’t know if you are aware, but the Fleet has recently taken a number of ships away from the enemy. As they say, ‘the sky’s the limit’,” he finished approvingly.
“You…you’re going to break up the crew?” McKnight asked, having dreaded this particular turn in the conversation.
“We don’t exactly have cruiser-sized commands lying around,” he said with splayed hands, “if you want something, a cutter’s about the best I can do right now—unless you want to ride a station command until things loosen up,” he said leadingly. “Speaking of which, what’s the condition of that cutter you captured?”
McKnight frowned as she leaned back, more than a little disconcerted—and impressed—that he had managed to cut to the core of yet another delicate matter. “I’m sorry, Admiral, but the cutter’s not actually an MSP asset.”
“What?” he blinked, and she knew he had maneuvered her into a corner with his skillful command of the conversation’s flow.
“One of the Sundered who joined us brought his own privately-owned gunboats,” she explained. “During an independent action, he captured the Cutter. Having since lost his boats, he’s made clear his intention to claim the Cutter as a replacement.” She knew that the trade of Toto’s gunships had been firmly in the dark side of the legal grey area when it came to exchanging military hardware, but she also knew that possession was nine tenths of the law—a truth of which it seemed Mr. Lynch was all-too-aware.
The Admiral frowned and narrowed his eyes slightly. “I see,” he said, and he trailed off as his eyes darted hither and thither while he silently considered the matter. But the silence stretched on for more than twenty seconds, prompting McKnight to clear her throat.
McKnight's Mission: A House Divided, Book 1 (Spineward Sectors- Middleton's Pride 4) Page 6