Eagle (Jacob Hull) (12 page)

There was no hint of change in Deleon’s face; she remained stubbornly suspicious.
“Safer against a foreign enemy, perhaps, but what about a domestic threat? If the Navy decides to take it into its head to overthrow the Union, or if a particular Navy commander decides to stage a coup, how will the militias involved in this be able to protect themselves?”

“They won’t.” Jacob let those flat, lethal words hang in the air of the conference room for a moment. When he continued, his voice was still as hard as iron. “The militia has to trust us. Otherwise, we’re all going to be killed by the Odurans, militia and Navy alike. It seems a bit foolish to conjure up imaginary military tyrants in our ranks when an entire
fleet
of them is just across the Frontier, waiting to strike.”

Odell raised an eyebrow. “Not the most persuasive or reassuring argument, Admiral Hull.”

“High Seat Smithson doesn’t pay me to be reassuring, Captain. He pays me to win.” Jacob spread his arms wide. “If the militia is so concerned about my intentions—or any officer’s intentions—this is their chance to gain access to Navy information and Navy supplies. They can use both to their advantage. Besides, this program would encourage a level of coordination and training that would help the militia support each other, along with loyal Navy units, in either of the cases you brought up.”

“Depending on the officer overseeing this program, of course.”
Siddiqui leaned back in her chair. She remained silent for a moment, watching him carefully. “Who exactly do you propose to lead this effort, Admiral Hull? You? Your Captain Al-shira, here?”

Jacob blinked. Then he spoke in a very carefully controlled voice. “I would suggest you rethink your reference to Captain Al-shira, Admiral. Whatever you think of me, she has more than earned your respect.”

Siddiqui held his gaze, and then looked to where Al-shira was sitting rigidly in her seat. “You are correct. My apologies for any offense, Captain Al-shira.”

“None taken.”
Al-shira’s voice was very, very level.

Jacob pulled himself back from his fury and focused on his objective. “To answer your question, Admiral, we need an officer who can coordinate best with the militia and encourage them to take advantage of the opportunity. A flag officer, one with experience talking to their leaders, would be the best choice.”

“You mean me.” Siddiqui’s tone was far from encouraging, but Jacob nodded.

“Correct.” Jacob looked from her neutral expression to the disbelieving look on Odell’s face and the blatant suspicion on Deleon’s. “Between the two of us, we supervise almost eighty percent of the border. If I authorize you to talk with the militia leaders in my zones, we can start organizing this program now. The Admiralty Board can sanction and expand it later, but we need the groundwork as soon as possible.”

“You have to be joking.” Deleon snarled at him. “This is an obvious attempt to either buy us off or subvert us. Why should we have any reason to believe the task force you command won’t be turned against Union targets next instead of Oduran ones?”

Anger flared again in Jacob’s heart, but before he could speak, Al-shira answered. “If the militia won’t even cooperate in the defense of the border, how do we know
they
won’t be the ones attacking the Union? Or have you forgotten the kind of rhetoric coming from San Marcos?” She continued bitterly. “If you want guarantees, at the very least you know Admiral Hull has put his life on the line more than once for the Union—which is more than I can say for some militia commanders.”

Odell broke in before Deleon could respond. “I am sure my fellow officer did not mean to cast aspersions on Admiral Hull’s character or his honor.” He looked from Deleon’s sullen expression back to Jacob. “It would reassure me to know where your experience with militia forces comes from, however. Where exactly did you gain the experience to understand how to utilize them effectively?”

Al-shira snorted. “That’s a funny thing to ask of someone who actually founded one of the biggest militia forces on the Frontier.” When the others looked at her, she shrugged. “He’s even incorporated them into his deployment plans already. Or did you forget exactly where the ships I was commanding came from? If his use of the Reefhome Defense Corps isn’t a good example of how well he understands the strategy behind this idea, then I don’t know what else you’re waiting for.”

Odell leaned back, his expression again thoughtful, and even Deleon’s hostility looked less certain.

Siddiqui continued to study him, her expression hard to read. Then she smiled. “I accept your proposition, Admiral Hull. I will start work on the program immediately—and congratulations on your victory.”

Captain Deleon spun to look at Siddiqui, her face shocked. “Admiral, I—”

“That’s enough, Captain.” Siddiqui’s cool tone immediately silenced Deleon’s protest. “It’s better for us to have a seat at the table here than to be pushed aside.” Admiral Siddiqui stood, looking around with a satisfied air. “I believe I’ve heard all I will need to, Admiral Hull. We’ll return to the
Percival
and get to work.”

Jacob inclined his head. He felt a weight lift from his shoulders he hadn’t even realized was there. “Thank you, Admiral.”

Siddiqui started toward the door followed by her staff, but she paused at the door. She looked back, her expression guarded. “I will caution you that not everyone will view your success in Kryshaen or your plans for our defense favorably. Some might consider it an opportunity for personal power instead. Be careful.”

The warning, however unnecessary, was another good sign. Jacob nodded again, letting a flicker of gratitude show. “Thank you again, Admiral Siddiqui. Have a safe journey to your ship.”

With another small smile, Admiral Siddiqui swept out the room with Captain Odell right at her heels. Captain Deleon trailed after them, her expression a mixture of confusion and anger Jacob imagined would last the rest of the day. He waited until the hatch slid shut, and then let out a long breath. Jacob looked to where Al-shira was still sitting. “Well, that went well.”

She smiled. “It could have gone better, but I think you managed to score a win there, Sir.” Then Al-shira glanced at the repeating image of the battle in Kryshaen. “You did well there, too.”

“Why thank you, Captain.” Jacob walked around the table and leaned back against it, arms folded. “So, how bad was it here?”

Al-shira looked away for a moment.
“Bad, at least for a while. The Reefhome crews weren’t a problem, but the rest of the area might as well have went wild. I caught some of the transmissions from San Marcos… they were almost frantic about your disappearance. About two days after they realized your entire task force was gone, San Marcos issued a statement saying they’ve banned traffic passing through their system. They justified it by saying they were worried about possible scouts passing information to their enemies.”

“A blockade?”
Jacob felt some of his tension start to filter back in through his muscles. A trade blockade was just one step away from severing all official contact with the Union. “Have they enforced it? Has any ship been fired on?”

“No.” Her voice was just as worried as his had been. “No one has reported anything like that, which either means nobody’s tried it…”

“Or nobody’s survived to make it out intact.” Jacob grunted. Just when he’d finally cut the threat from the Odurans down to size, another problem cropped up. “What else have they been up to?”

Al-shira shrugged. “From what I’ve been able to gather, just more of the same paranoid armament program they’d already started. Lots of spare merchant ships and weapons kits are being bought outside San Marcos and transferred there by their ships.” Her expression darkened. “They haven’t been settling for blockades either. They must have made half a dozen threats about what they would do if your ships entered their system, most of which would have involved bombardments of Tiredel in retaliation. No shots fired, but a couple of times it has been close.”

Jacob scowled. “It must take a lot of courage to threaten a bunch of weaponless refugees. What’s been happening since we came back?”

To Jacob’s relief, Al-shira smiled. “Like night and day. Carmichael still hasn’t issued a statement, but the daily traffic from San Marcos has faltered quite a bit. They don’t seem to know how to react now that all of their doomsday predictions are off the mark. A couple officials have made statements about how the Navy’s aggression against the League is a bad sign for all free peoples, but they haven’t seemed very convincing.”

He snorted. “I guess I shouldn’t have expected them to change their tune very quickly.”

“At least the rest of the Union seems to be a bit more supportive.” Al-shira’s smile widened. “Celebrations are already starting on Tiredel. I’ve heard it’s the same on every other world the message has reached. Odds are by the time you reach New
Vermont, the High Seat is going to be waiting for you.”

Jacob grunted. “Anything else I should know about?”

“Maybe.” Al-shira paused. “Von Clarence went to San Marcos three days ago. He was planning on leading a diplomatic mission there to try and restore normal relations with Carmichael’s group.”

Jacob sat bolt upright. “What? Did he know about the—”

“He knew. I warned him we couldn’t help him, right before he left.” Anger colored her tone. “He said he’d give it a try anyway, that anything would be worth it if he managed to stop a civil war.”

Jacob let his hands curl into fists again. He desperately wished he had gotten back to Tiredel sooner. If Carmichael’s ships fired on von Clarence, if they managed to kill a former High Seat of the Union, there was no possible way Jacob could hold the Navy back. Von Clarence had led the Navy to battle during the Telosian Sedition, and his decision to resign from the High Seat was a mirror in many people’s minds of what the last Regal Seat had done. Then a horrible thought occurred to Jacob, and he groaned. “Naomi, who else went with
him?”

She winced.
“Nathaniel Maxwell, Carson Maxwell, and two of von Clarence’s sons. A few others went with him. They left on the same ship.”

In a single explosive motion, Jacob brought both fists down on the table and pushed himself up out of his chair. “Damn it!” He stalked away from the table, shaking his head. Then he stopped and started back again, frustrated by the helplessness he felt at the situation. “It’s like he’s trying to start a shooting war, even if it kills him! Do you know what would happen if—”

He cut off abruptly. “Sorry Naomi. I should have gotten back here sooner.”

Al-shira stared at him in silence for a few moments, and then she stood up. “You’re lucky you came back at all, Jacob. They were waiting for you at Kryshaen.
If they had known just how effective the
Eagle
would be…

Jacob nodded, his gaze going back to the projection. “We wouldn’t have made it out of there at all.” He tried not to imagine the
Eagle
going down in flames, just as the
Badger
once had. “Next time, we’re not going to be so lucky.”

She grunted and walked over to stand beside him.
“Obviously.” Al-shira looked over at him, with one eyebrow arched. “So do you have any more surprises for me, Admiral?”

He smiled. “I guess you’ll just have to wait and find out, Captain.”

Al-shira rolled her eyes. “Fine. You’ve done well enough so far I suppose you can be a bit coy. Just remember the rest of the Board won’t be so easy to impress.”

“That won’t keep me from trying, though. And Kryshaen was just the beginning.” Jacob smiled and motioned for her to proceed out of the room ahead of him.
“After you, Captain. We have a lot of work to do.”

Chapter Eleven

The yards at New Vermont were busier than Jacob had ever seen them. The great, expansive docking slips were filled to the brim with destroyers, cruisers, and frigates, all of which were there for repair or refit. Jacob could count at least thirteen
Crown
-class ships with work underway, which meant the next Oduran raider might get more fight out of an outdated cruiser than they would expect. It was the kind of thought that brought a smile to Jacob’s face.

Undoubtedly, the
Eagle
’s arrival was going to complicate the docks’ already crowded schedule. Almost all of Jacob’s ships needed some kind of repair, and
Eagle
herself needed quite a bit of work done. Turley was complaining to Jacob about how he had just finished fine-tuning the ship before Jacob just about broke the thing, but such were the costs of war.

He was still studying the docks from his vantage point in his office when Leon came up to join him. “Looks like some of your budget concerns were resolved, Sir.”

Jacob grinned. “I guess kicking the crap out of the Oduran fleet managed to convince some people I had at least a few decent ideas.” He looked to Leon. “How is
Galahad
doing?”

The other officer shrugged. “We took a little damage to our port side during the battle, but it wasn’t too serious. Engineering had it fixed by the time we got back to Tiredel.”

His answer brought a frown to Jacob’s face. “I thought I heard you were still having problems.”

Leon grinned. “That would be Commander Decerda. He’s a bit pessimistic on his reports and occasionally seems to think the worse he estimates the damage is, the better he’ll look when he fixes it.” Then his grin faded. “So what’s the plan now? Are we just building up, or do you think the Odurans will come after us?”

Jacob shook his head. “They’d have to build a new fleet of their own to make an assault, we took out one of their biggest forward bases, and their morale is probably shot on top of that. If they do end up coming after us, we’ll have plenty of warning thanks to Siddiqui’s scouts.”

His friend grimaced; Leon’s Federalist leanings would never permit him to be comfortable with using militia for anything, no matter how logical the plan was. “I suppose was unavoidable. Which militia are we using to provide forward intelligence?”

“Reefhome was kind enough to lend some of their ships, though Miguel wanted to bring most of them back to the station. Something about providing ongoing security for the refit process there.”

Leon blinked. “Have the Odurans attacked them?”

Jacob grinned. “No. They had a Telosian frigate show up a couple of weeks back, but the frigate jumped out as soon as Miguel went after it. Something tells me the pirates were just checking up on old friends, not committing to a serious attack. They learned not to do that after Dianton.”

They shared a smile over their memories of the fight in Reefhome, and then Leon turned back to the projection of the yards. “Were those all the militia who said they’d help us? I would have thought there would be quite a few more, given Siddiqui’s popularity with them.”

“Let’s see.” Jacob tapped at his personal reader. “Admiral Siddiqui also said the militias from Adamson, Ersvad, New Jakarta, and Pa Kiswani have all volunteered some of their ships. We should have all the routes of approach covered, even if the Odurans move tomorrow.” He set the reader aside and studied his friend. “And how are you doing? Do you think we are safe now?”

Leon’s expression was unreadable. “I think we’ve bought ourselves some time. The Odurans certainly won’t replace those dreadnaughts we took very quickly.” Then he closed his eyes and rubbed at his forehead with one hand, trying to banish a headache. “The truth is
, I don’t know if the strike was enough. It isn’t just a question of training new crews and replacing destroyed ships. It’s about commitment. The Union is looking fragile. We have Carmichael and his crowd threatening to break away, we don’t have a solid military leadership for the Navy still, and those are just the problems we know about. Smithson is doing the best possible job, but he won’t be able to handle it all alone.”

Jacob snorted. “Well, at the very least we’re working toward a solution. Siddiqui’s actually helping us now.”

“And it never hurts our chances to have a major victory, right?” Leon grinned again, and for a moment, he was the young ensign Jacob had come to know on the
Wolfhound
. Then his face seemed to age, as the worries and responsibilities of his current post returned to his mind. “It would be better if we just had the referendum and were done with it, Jacob, but we do have another concern. Admiral Mirov has been building up his own base of support, especially while we were away. There were rumors you’d gone rogue, or you were planning some sort of strike against the government. His supporters were able to use that to shore up his own potential as a candidate for High Admiral.”

“I know.” Jacob brooded over that fact for a moment. He wasn't exactly pleased by the number of people who were shocked he’d returned, though the sheer annoyance his survival and victory had caused some of his opponents was extremely gratifying. “We’ll just need to work with what we’ve got.”

Then he paused and looked over at his friend. “Though I guess I should ask what brings you to the flagship. You aren’t here to ask for your position as chief of staff back, are you?”

Leon chuckled.
“Nope. Not even close.” He made a broad gesture with one hand. “I just wanted to know if you’d had the chance to hear from the High Seat lately.”

“Not recently, no.” Jacob frowned. “Why do you ask?”

There was definitely a hint of mischief in Leon’s expression Jacob didn’t quite like. “Oh, no reason. I just may have heard he intends to pay you a visit to discuss things quite soon.”

“And just how soon will he—” Jacob cut off when his reader beeped at him. He looked down at the device, and then back up at Leon.
“Really? Right now?”

Leon smirked.
“Right now. Good luck Admiral. You’re going to need it.”

“Given your success, I would say congratulations are in order. Well done, Admiral Hull.” High Seat Smithson’s tone was a mixture of satisfaction and weariness, evidence of the struggle he had waged with his fellow leaders over the past few weeks. “You’ve managed to embarrass quite a few people by surviving your adventure. Do you have any other clever ideas I might be able to capitalize on in the near future?”

“If I do, you will be the first to hear about it, Sir.” Jacob smiled. “For now, I believe our best course will be to consolidate our forces on this side of the Frontier. That way when we do launch more operations, we’ll be able to achieve a better result.”

“A better result, you say?” Smithson leaned back in his seat and scrubbed a hand across his brow. “Be careful what you promise, Admiral Hull. You might raise my expectations a bit higher than you’re able to meet.”

Jacob chuckled. “Well, we do like to be of use, Sir. It helps people remember why they pay us.”

“No doubt.” Smithson sighed. “It is too bad you aren’t able to provide a solution to
all
of our current obstacles, Admiral. There is one problem in particular the Union could do without.”

“I assume you’re referring to Carmichael.” Jacob shrugged. “I’ve never even met the man, and I’m already starting to develop a strong dislike for him.” He hesitated. “Has there been any word from von Clarence?”

“Not as of yet. They did send a message drone to reassure us they were allowed into the system—apparently Carmichael and his cronies saw the wisdom in extending a sort of exception to their blockade—but I have no real word on their progress with the negotiations.”

A burst of relief filled Jacob at the news both von Clarence and the Maxwells had arrived safely. It was followed by a bit of concern as Smithson gave him a very level look.
“Sir?”

“Carmichael isn’t your only concern, nor is he the only one you have managed to stir up. Admiral Borgens was in my office the day after your task force left, demanding you be declared a rogue officer. Admiral Mirov acted as much the sphinx as he usually
does, but he did imply rather thoroughly you had abandoned your responsibilities here. You’ve already seen how Admiral Siddiqui reacted; she was ready to launch a counterstrike the instant you showed up in San Marcos.”

Jacob now had a sinking feeling in his stomach.
“And Admiral Yeseti?”

Smithson shrugged.
“Curiously silent, actually. A bit more hostile than she usually is, which is rather much considering her normal state of dislike for me, but no specific criticisms. I almost think she had decided wherever you were, the chances of you becoming High Admiral had vanished along with your task force. You know she’s always coveted the post for herself, despite how much of a disaster it would be. The woman has next to no tactical ability. Excellent orator and a first class mind for intelligence work, but no sense of strategy.”

Unable to find a response, Jacob stayed silent.

Smithson sighed. “At the very least, your triumphant return has forestalled any attempt they might have made to remove you from your current post. Popular opinion might even be enough to shield you from any kind of reprimand whatsoever, but I doubt you’ve improved your reputation with your fellow admirals by any sort of measure.”

Jacob shrugged, trying not to feel resentful. “The situation would have been worse off with them no matter what I did. I just happen to be in the way of too many plans for them to like me.”

A hint of a smile broke through the High Seat’s stern demeanor. “That
is
true, Admiral. You have a talent for it; it’s a rather large portion of the reason  I chose you for the post of High Admiral.” The smile faded. “I had no idea you’d be
quite
so good at it, however.”

“I strive for excellence, sir.” Jacob grinned. He drummed the table with his fingers. “Any chance the referendum might go through?”

“Not as long as the Lower Seats have any say about it.” Smithson sounded remarkably unhappy about his own assessment, but he continued. “You’ve made quite a few too many enemies there. The only reason your military budget has finally been approved—with quite a bit of resentment from the House of the People and a few vocal protests among the Assessors as well—is because the House and the Assessors are far more vulnerable to recall and election than the Lower Seats.”

Jacob felt a bit of uncertainty creep in; politics had always been foreign territory for him. “Is that so?”

Smithson smiled, amused by his reaction. “With the current boost in popularity, the Representatives who aren’t entirely secure about their positions aren’t going to risk recall by continuing to hold up your budget. They’re only acting out of self-interest rather than any particular fondness for you. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if a batch of them banded together to call you a massive mistake for the Navy the next time you stumble in any way.”

Suddenly the situation seemed a lot more familiar, though not entirely in a comfortable manner. “So what you’re saying is we can’t afford a screw-up.”

“You’re correct, Admiral.” Smithson leaned forward, his expression intense. “The first stumble, the first defeat, the first time you look vulnerable, they’ll be on you like sharks on a dying whale. We can’t exactly afford that situation at the moment.” Then Smithson leaned back, a wry smile crossing his face. “No pressure, of course.”

“Right.”
Jacob stood up. He began to pace behind his desk, though he kept the speed of his walk to a measured stroll. “You had asked if I had any other ideas. There is something you need to be aware of.”

Smithson raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

Jacob nodded. “Part of the problem, High Seat, is in the long run, we have little hope of keeping up with the Odurans. Even with our technological advantage, they’ll be able to overwhelm us with numbers at some point. An all-out assault by the enemy will be too much for us to fend off.”

Smithson watched him carefully. “I thought your much vaunted victory would prevent that result.”

Jacob raised an eyebrow. “We managed to
delay
them, but only for so long. Realistically, they can replace anything we destroy, and they can pay a far heavier price to wear us down. To win, we will need to do more than win a battle. We need to win the war.”

The High Seat’s expression grew grave. “I assume you have a plan, then. I would hate to think all of the effort behind your offensive was only a desperate ploy to delay the inevitable.”

The statement made Jacob laugh before he caught himself. “Desperate? That depends on who you ask. I still think victory is possible, even if it won’t be easy.” He reached over and tapped the controls to change the projection. It showed the border, an almost constant image that haunted Jacob’s dreams as a result of his obsessive study. “When I was going over possible strategies in how to counter the Odurans, my mind went back to our fights in Reefhome. I trust you were briefed on that situation?”

Smithson eyed Jacob thoughtfully. “I remember something of it. High Admiral Nivrosky seemed particularly impressed with your results, but I was rather occupied with the fallout from the Rigannin campaign.”