Federation Reborn 2: Pirate Rage (34 page)

“It sounds like you've had your hands full,” Doctor Myers said, sounding a bit sympathetic. “I can handle the admin side, but I'm really into hands-on. It's why I'm here,” he said, waving his avatar's hands to indicate the station.

The admiral nodded. “Understood. I am the same way,” he said in confession. “But needs must and all that. We can make posts acting and temporary; we can make them for a set period of time or whatever both sides are comfortable with. I'm not willing to commit to a lot of you. Not until I've had more time to get to know you.”

“And see if your views come into conflict with your own,” D'red stated.

The admiral eyed the translucent Veraxin avatar and then shrugged. “True.”

“Thank you for your honesty, sir.”

“Many of you will find postings available if the top slot isn't what you seek or can handle with your current workload. I'll hold a seat out for anyone who wants to step up and contribute,” the admiral said, eying Governor Randall briefly. The governor smiled slightly as he saluted him with his wine glass. “As long as said seat is available,” he said, turning to the rest of his audience.”

“The admiral will be sending invitations for further discourse on the various openings later this evening or tomorrow,” Commander Sprite interjected smoothly. She smiled and nodded once to the admiral. He returned the nod. That was putting off any pressure tactics some were willing to employ. They knew he wanted to get it done and over with, but he wasn't quite willing to rush headlong into a potential minefield … not if he could avoid it. Not after what he'd gone through with Nora.

“Thank you, Admiral. A fair and open accounting is all we ask,” D'red stated with a first degree bow of honor. “And we know we will get that from you.”

“Thank you. I will do my best. We might have some issues along the way. But we are getting there. The future is dawning bright, getting brighter with every moment and meter we strive towards it. Let's not be blinded by it or turn a blind eye to where we come from and what we've gone through to get there nor step over others in the process of reaching for that future. May we make this brand new start count for us and for all future generations,” the admiral stated.

There was an immediate applause from the group and cheers of “here here!” from his audience. He felt slightly flustered about the Gipper speech but he meant every word. And they knew it, which was probably why it resonated so well he thought as he wryly smiled and saluted them with his wine glass. The cheers and clapping died down. He nodded once. “To the building of a new bright future together,” he said. “Long live the Federation!”

The group echoed his sentiment as they drank.

---<>))))

“I hope you were taking notes, Governor,” D'red said in amusement after the conference-turned-party had broken up.

“Oh I did,” Jeff replied, smiling indulgently. “He's good I'll give him that. Damn good.”

“That speech was a bit over the top.”

“But it was so inspiring!” The governor replied with a smile. “The admiral might not like politics, but he's a natural leader when he puts his mind to it.”

“Or when he forgets who and where he is and shoots from the hip,” the Veraxin replied. “He has a reputation as a straight shooter. A doer. I suggest you cultivate both images as much as possible if you wish to eventually replace him.”

The governor nodded slightly. The fact that he wanted the top slot eventually wasn't much of a secret. But only eventually, only
after
he got his own house in order. He planned to run when the time was right, when the galaxy and republic were restored or at least closer to that eventual goal. To build off of the admiral's expertise and hard work while also
learning
from it … and from the other man's mistakes.

He was aware that he would make mistakes along the way. That was inevitable. But better to make them now, on the small stage, then in the larger one where everyone would be watching him intently. Where those with sharpened knives waiting for him to slip would be waiting … he shuddered internally. Just seeing the rather minor problems the admiral was dealing with was revealing about how things could go in the future if both men weren't careful.

“Do you think you're a shoo-in for attorney general? Even though you focused on corporate law?”

“I did a brief stint as a defense attorney in my youth as a larva,” the Veraxin replied with a second degree shrug of amusement. “I know there were candidates suggested from the other star systems. There are really only two other viable candidates, both are judges in Pyrax. One is close to retirement.”

“I see.”

“If he doesn't select me now, I'll be a viable candidate in the future when the judge does step down.”

“I see,” the governor replied again in a neutral tone of voice. “And the station?” He indicated their surroundings with a wave of his hand.

“What about it?” The Veraxin signaled amusement once more. “The station has existed. Will continue to exist for that matter. There are over a dozen who could step into my place should the need arise. I will be missed, but I will be moving on to bigger and better things.”

“I didn't know you had an eyestalk to greatness,” the governor quipped.

“I don't. The admiral is right; he needs the right people in place to do the job. I set up the legal system here on Antigua Prime—not just our shield against litigation, defending and preventing exposure, but also the criminal justice system. I set it all up, granted from an established template, but I know the system backwards and forwards. That knowledge will be ideal.”

“An ambitious bug?”

“More in line with the admiral's thinking. I know it must be done, and I want to see it done
right
.”

The governor nodded. “I'll keep that in mind.”

“Please do. And please convey such sentiments to the admiral. Or should I say president? Such titles are confusing these days.”

“Think about what he has to go through,” the governor replied dryly. “And I know he prefers going by his military title. I will keep you in mind, firmly in mind. You have raised many good points.”

“I know the admiral and I have come to head a few times in the past. I cherish such debates, for from their crucible comes the truth. We burn off all we can in the process of finding it.”

“And lawyers are known to do their best to obscure it in the employ of their clients,” the governor retorted.

The Veraxin stilled then bobbed a nod of agreement. “Agreed.”

Jeff smirked briefly. “I had my own time behind the desk you know,” he said, cocking his head.

“Ah. I had forgotten that. My thanks for reminding me,” the Veraxin stated.

“Legal histories aside, I agree you would be a great candidate for a multitude of reasons. And I will say as much to him if the discussion comes forward. But I know he is his own man; he's liable to come to the same conclusions himself.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Good evening,” the governor replied with a slight salute as he walked into the boat bay. He had a six-hour flight before he was home with his wife and kids once more.

Chapter
21

“Too many irons in the fire,” Admiral Irons murmured as he looked over the status board. They had the mess in Epsilon Triangula to contend with along with the mess on Protodon, New Andres, Nightingale, Hidoshi's World, and Destria.

And now he was complicating things further. Despite Amadeus's protests he was moving forward with his expedition plans. Yes, they were a diversion of three precious ships, all light cruisers. But he saw it as a necessity. If he had more, he would have sent divisions or entire task forces, but he didn't have the additional ships, at least not yet.

The Bek expedition by the light cruiser
Caroline
was foremost on his mind. Bek would be an extremely valuable industrial power house …
if
it even still existed. All sorts of what-if games had played through his head. The most pressing was if the ship failed in its mission and was destroyed … but then there was the potential of a Pandora's box.

Such thoughts weren't conductive to good sleep patterns, he mused then snorted. Luckily he didn't need a lot of REM sleep.

But he was doubling down on the expeditions. He had planned on sending a cruiser to scout and make contact with star systems in the neighboring sectors. It was too dangerous to send anything into Sigma sector, they'd have to cross hostile territory to get there, but they could send a ship into Pi sector easily since the Charon star system was only four jumps away along the northeastern loop.

Getting another ship to Tau sector was a bit more problematical. First they had to contend with the messes in between. But he was determined to see it through.

He checked the status board once more.
Caroline
had finished her resupply and had jumped for B101a1 a week ago, he noted. They had a good crew, he reminded himself; they'd get it done.

His mind turned to other more pressing matters, like the promotions list. They had accelerated it again, and he was still coming to terms with having to deal with it on a monthly basis. At least this round had some familiar faces.

Getting Junior Valdez and some of the other senior officers up there to captain JG hadn't been that hard. Amadeus knew they needed people to fill the top slots and he'd helped him convince Phil of that. Phil had more or less resigned himself to it, but he hadn't been at all thrilled about signing off on Commander Montgomery's promotion to junior captain as well. That had definitely left the rear admiral with a bitter pill to swallow. He'd at least finally decided to abstain on the decision leaving Amadeus and Irons to vote. Amadeus had sided with Irons but had held his reservations. John fully understood. He did too.

But they needed the man. There was no one else to run the intel shop, not with his seniority.

He hadn't pushed for Matilda or Thornby however nor any of the others. He'd been surprised that Phil had nominated Horatio for a star. Amadeus had also been surprised apparently, and he'd held out due to the man's lack of ship command. He had no problem with the man's ability to handle combat, at least in theory, but Horatio's skills in the various exercises and simulations he'd participated in were mediocre at best.

But Horatio was an engineering admiral—a pure staff officer, one not slated for ship or fleet command. They needed engineers as much as they needed tactical officers. Unfortunately, they'd run out of time so the decision had been passed off for the following month.

He shook his head. Something told him it would be pushed to the six-month promotions list when they were normally held. There was just too much going on, and Horatio was needed where he was.

At least for the moment, he reminded himself. But if
Caroline
found what he was hoping for … that would change.

---<>))))

Vestri Sindri looked at the first
Prowler
in the production line, UFN-001P. They'd gotten underway with the project, though it didn't help his mood. He didn't see the need for the scout ship though he did like a new interesting challenge in their design and construction. The design was more difficult to produce than a basic scout since it had to have stealth and intelligence gathering gear built into it. Even the hull and frame were different, made out of materials that were geared more for stealth than armor. They were lightweight though, which was a minor saving grace. But they were tissue paper against modern weapons.

And again, what was the point? A
Prowler
had to get into a star system to scout it. When a ship transited in or out of hyper, it gave off a rather noticeable pulse of light. That was where the stealth came in though; the ship dropped into stealth and then slunk across the solar system on a ballistic course.

But to do that across the Horathian Empire? No way, he thought, shaking his broad head. Not in a million years, not with the limited range those small vessels had.

But the admiral had ordered it, he thought, and an order was an order. So, he put his people to work on it. And that had been its own set of headaches since intelligence was all over the project. Monty was already breathing down his neck to make sure they had people who wouldn't talk. Who had passed through every damn security test and wouldn't talk afterward. Damn it to hell, he'd already lost two good fitters because of their blasted tests! So what if someone flapped their lips in a bar? He shook his head. Stupid. It wasn't like the enemy was listening! Not in a military bar in a military space station, right?

All right, the two guys who'd been caught doing recreational drugs he understood. Space was dangerous enough without being hung over or high. He got that. The same for the idiot who'd gotten into a bar fight, guys and gals needed to unwind, and his people were pretty tightly wound with little room to vent while they were working. Having a machine shop supervisor benched in the brig sucked!

He scowled. The object lessons had taught the others to keep their trap shut though. He looked at the graceful lines of the vessel under construction before he turned away. “Still stupid if you ask me,” he muttered. Better to have built more frigates he thought with a sniff. For each of the
Prowlers
they could build two, no, make that four frigates he noted. Stupid waste of resources and time.

The sooner they got them done the better he thought. But no, they had to build parts for the logistics of the ships too of course. An entire six-week-production period wasted on something that would probably never help, on ships that no one was supposed to frigging see!

But an order was an order so he'd get it done.

---<>))))

Doctor Nara Thornby saw the promotions list in the
Times
the day it came out and grinned. Four, no,
five
names practically jumped out of the list. She nodded. So, the admiral didn't hold the intel debacles against Monty. Or he at least acknowledged that the man was trying to bootstrap the intelligence industry while learning the trade along the way. Actually, she frowned, playing with her lips, come to think of it, Monty had never wanted the position in the first place right? She shook her head. That was true, so pissing all over the man for doing his best wasn't right.

Not that anyone ever said life in the navy was easy or fair. She liked the challenge though.

She didn't like the politics though, the bullshit about her being appointed to the secretary of medicine had been painful. A lot of flak over nothing since she like Monty had never sought the damn job! The admiral hadn't even talked to her about it either. Someone had just jumped all over her ass, smearing her good name through the mud to keep her out of the running apparently. It still smarted.

If she ever got her hands on the bastard … she scowled blackly.

Harris's promotion was nice. Monty's as well. Her own name had been a given, the same for Matilda's. She hadn't expected seeing Junior's, but she should have. She wondered if they'd get the promotions this go around or have to wait for another quarter before the admirals voted. Hopefully they'd get it sorted out soon she thought.

A Veraxin nurse swiveled her eye stalks to the doctor. “Oh hello, Doctor, are you here to check on the Damocles people?”

“
Damocles
?”

“Yes. Captain Harris made certain we check over some of the injured from his ship.”

“He's here? In port?” Nara demanded, looking about her.

“No, ma’am. He emailed. From what I understand, he was supposed to get some downtime but instead he's been given command of a battle cruiser. She's out on her builder’s trials now, ma’am.”

“Okay,” Nara replied with a nod. She made a note to check in with Harris when she got the chance. She made another note to let Matilda know. In fact, Matilda might have tapped the kid to play guest lecturer while he was here she thought.

Kid, she thought with a soft snort.

“Ma'am?”

“Sorry, thinking of something else. So … injured?”

“Yes, ma’am. Several of his crew were only lightly injured. The doctor on
Damocles
signed off on them, but he wanted to be certain I suppose.”

“Good to know he's caring about his people,” Nara said with a nod. She mentally put a gold star next to Harris's name. “So, Damocles is going to be laid up for a while?”

“According to the grapevine, the ship's crew has been pulled. Most are on leave anyway. They are going to be slotted in here or there or form the nucleus of new ship's companies as Damocles is refit on a back burner basis like a lot of other injured ships. It's not right but …”

“It spreads out the veteran crews,” the doctor said with a shrug. “Everyone has to be promoted sometime,” she said thoughtfully. In fact, that explained why a lot of the names on the list belonged to
Yris'ka'th
and
Damocles
, she realized.

“Anything else?”

“Your regular check in groundside is approaching, ma’am. No new news that I am aware of, ma’am. I know that the mess on ET is all over the air waves. I'd like to volunteer to go if I can, ma’am.”

“I know. But by the time we got there a lot of the misery would be over I'm afraid. They'll have to make do without either of us,” the human said.

“As you say, ma’am. Are you going to make the rounds?”

“Yes. I'll be back in my office in twenty. If anyone wants me, tell them to page me,” she said.

“Aye aye, ma’am,” the nurse said, making a note in the log that the doctor was on duty. Nara shrugged on a white smock and then went about her normal morning routine.

---<>))))

Commander Sprite realized something was missing in her life. Something she had to face if she wished to maintain her sanity. That last point wasn't as much of a joke and definitely not as funny as it used to be.

The thing that was bothering her was moving out. Moving out of the admiral had started a problem, a hole in her awareness she hadn't known would happen. She had grown up used to the admiral's vitals there in her status board. Being able to monitor him, monitor his thought process and his moods. To guess at what he was thinking about. It wasn't a game, it was … well, not trivial, but something important apparently she thought internally as she set up a clone to examine herself.

An A.I. didn't like not knowing something. It bothered them, though there were tricks around it. The hole in her knowledge had been partially filled by the occasional update or access to the admiral's implants—with the permission of Protector of course.

Even without Protector's permission, she could still monitor the admiral externally, through the sensors built into his office or other location. Could this be what organics called regret? Loneliness? A regret over their “divorce”? At the time she'd considered it as a natural part of her evolution, her growing up and leaving the nest. Now she wasn't so sure.

She had the clone run a comparison based on her emotional modulator's output and various emotions people underwent during a breakup. There were some similarities, enough to keep her from ruling it out.

The admiral was … comforting—a father figure yes, but also a friend. More than that in some ways, since they had cohabitated the same body for nearly a decade. Truly it had been some sort of … marriage, yes, that was best to describe it. A marriage with intimacy in it but not sexual in nature. She knew of no other way to describe it.

But there was something else that was bothering her. And perhaps by discussing it with the admiral she could lance her issues, gain some insight into his, and lance his own bubble of pain.

Or at least distract him from their current problems, she thought as she froze the clone's progress when she saw an opportunity about to come up. He, no,
they
needed to clear the air.

The dedication to the latest memorial was in two days, which would serve as her primer and allow her to do some groundwork. The admiral wasn't going to put in an appearance, but with news of ET, he had to. It would give her the opportunity she needed she thought as she started to rearrange the admiral's schedule.

---<>))))

Captain JG Harris grinned as he stroked the arms of his chair, the captain's chair of the newly commissioned
Newmann
class battle cruiser
Dawning of a New Day
with a proprietary air.