by Chris Hechtl
“So … and Commander Montgomery?”
“He's already put in for a transfer and was cleaning out his office when I last checked.”
“I see. The others should be pretty busy though they undoubtedly will offer some sympathy.”
“Yes, sir. They've worked together for some time now.”
“So it's high time for a good shaking up to air things out. New perspectives, fresh eyes,” the admiral said with a nod. “Do make sure I get a heads-up about needing an escort next time, Saul,” he warned as they walked to the lift.
The commander hesitated and then nodded. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”
“No problem, you didn't know. Find someone who I can tap at a moment's notice for such things. Command staff if possible since they have rank, but a discrete civilian may work as well.”
“I'll um, look around, sir.” He hadn't banked on doing that for the man.
The admiral looked at him. “I know you're not a dating service, son. But handling such things goes with the job.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good man. What's next?”
“You need to settle into your quarters, sir. Let the departments get rolling on your orders while you catch up on your personal things and get a good idea of the layout. At least, that is what you had planned.”
The admiral nodded as if he had been testing the man. He'd honestly forgotten. There had been a lot on his mind and …. “Excellent. Get me a SITREP on the changes. I want those ships moved before my shift starts tomorrow,” he warned.
“Yes, sir,” the chief of staff nodded dutifully. “The orders have already been cut, sir.”
“Good man.”
They took the evening shuttle flight back to the station. The admiral nodded and gave a casual salute to those in uniform he encountered who recognized him and saluted. They didn't need to do so. He wasn't in uniform, but he was glad some noted him. Or were they saluting the commander? Again, he'd have to check into that later.
“Good night, sir.”
“Oh em, yes, good night,” the admiral said as he looked around. They'd gotten to his quarters rather quickly while he'd been woolgathering. He nodded to the marine sentry at the entrance.
“I am not sure how you wanted your room set up, sir, so I left it to you,” Saul stated.
“I can unpack my own bags. Look into a steward though. I'll need one soon enough.”
“Yes, sir. Do you want me to talk to personnel?”
“Do it tonight and then let me see a list of candidates in the morning. I'll also need some additional support personnel eventually.”
“Yes, sir,” the commander replied with a nod.
The admiral went into his quarters and looked around. Captain Logan had recently vacated them. They were simple and plain; he hadn't decorated. It had been recently cleaned though; he could tell by the smell in the air. He looked around and found a stack of plastic totes with his personal things in it. They were stacked neatly in the living room. He nodded. He inhaled and then exhaled. It seemed he had some work ahead of him before he could get his nightcap and call it an evening. He made a note to have the commander look into a personal steward, flag lieutenant, and other staff in the morning.
---<>---<>---
Before Commander Montgomery left to board the departing tender to Agnosta, he talked with the other senior staff members. Everyone was scrambling to handle the orders that had been dumped on them. He felt a bit guilty about tracking Thornby, Horatio, and Matilda down, but he didn't want to leave without at least trying to say goodbye. Matilda would be a pain in the ass if he did skip out; she'd never forgive him. And she'd probably track his ass down with a nasty email or two so he decided to drop by for a goodbye.
Fortunately, they were all in the annex so that wouldn't be a problem.
He'd already said his goodbyes and good luck to his staff. Irene was going to have her work cut out for her, covering her ass with internal politics, dealing with the bureaucracy and the admiral. He wished Lady Luck would visit her often. The young woman was in over her head. He felt a bit guilty about dumping the load on her, but … he cut such thoughts off with a pang of remorse. At least Frank Sekim would be around to keep her straight … if he didn't get her into trouble himself! He shook his head.
He'd had gotten the news through the usual scuttlebutt grapevine that Commander Decius had refused to be transferred and had instead resigned his commission when Thornby had woken him to give him the news. Monty was ready to follow in the centipede's many footsteps to resign as well, but the other officers counseled him to have patience and hang in there.
“This well and truly sucks,” Sergio said, sulking. “I cannot fracking believe it!” He shook his head and started to pace. He got an implant call and took off with a mumbled goodbye.
Horatio was still smarting over his own slap down but felt for the other officers. They had no experience with such things. He'd tried to work with everyone, get them to get along, build bridges, and retain people since they had been partially trained. He'd cut them a lot of slack over the years. Now that soft hand was being slapped away with an iron gloved fist.
Admiral Subert's changes had come fast and furious. He'd fired several other people for nonperformance and made changes to the pickets. His changes were already making waves throughout the naval community.
Many of the people who had been relieved were being transferred to other star systems. Two were up for investigation by JAG by the admiral's order. Horatio had managed to shield Monty so the lieutenant commander wasn't going to be court-martialed. But the firing was going to go into his record jacket.
“BUPERS is a mess. Decius was good. He screwed up with the hibernations. He didn't delegate worth a damn, but …,” Matilda scowled.
It was rumored that the admiral was planning on demoting some people in favor of his own people. Many people good and bad were putting in for a transfer swamping the system. Kalmia was also swamped since everyone was chattering about the new orders and where lightning would strike next.
Horatio was of two minds about it. On the one hand, he felt for his people. But on the other he realized they weren't his people, not anymore. A good shake-up and cleaning out may be what was needed to get the ball rolling again.
“You've been doing fine. I don't see what the problem is,” Matilda insisted.
“But I did muck it up,” Monty insisted, shaking his head.
“You can't be held responsible for not getting intel from the people you sent behind the lines, Monty! They … we don't know what happened to them!” Matilda said in disgust. She'd seriously miscalculated in going into the initial meeting in civilian dress. She'd bucked Horatio, not really to get his goat but to stress her dual personality. But this new Admiral was a hard-ass. She didn't like him one little bit. She took her shoes off and rubbed at her aching feet. Nara just shook her head at her, so she wiggled her tootsies at her and then put her feet down.
Monty was oblivious to her thoughts since he had his own mess to deal with. What she had said was true. Over a hundred agents, all but four human, had been sent into the empire's territory through various routes. None had reported back. They knew the communication lines were long and fragile, but he hadn't gotten a single drop that they'd made it to certain key points.
He had planned meticulously to set up a series of cells on each planet to pass information back to them. It would be problematic, but it was the best he could think of. Every one of the agents had been outfitted with the best training and tools of the craft that he could get them.
Every single one of the agents had been a volunteer. Well, the four AI had been purposely built for the job from a template. They had been problematical. He didn't expect to hear from them for years. He hated not knowing. He hated assuming they'd failed—that they'd been found out, turned, tortured, or killed.
He had refined his process when he had gotten more intel. For instance he had stopped attempting to create a spy cell on Konohagakure since it was
an enclosed culture. The humans there were mostly Asian stock and were bound to various martial arts clans.
Nuevo Madrid, Dead Drop, Garth, New Horizon … he shook his head again. “Who would want this job,” he muttered looking away.
“You didn't want the top spot. Neither did I at first. That shouldn't be held against you. You eventually stepped up to the plate.”
“Yes, eventually, when I wasn't given a choice. But I left the department rudderless for years,” Monty sighed in disgust.
“And that isn't on you,” Horatio said gruffly. “I should have done something or the admiral should have. The focus …,” he shook his head again. “Again, you were learning the job, and I didn't give you more direction. Again on me.” He sighed heavily.
“Don't tell me you are going to resign too?” Doctor Thornby asked, aghast. Matilda looked at him with narrowed eyes.
“No,” Horatio said, settling himself. He shook his head to emphasize that. “We're needed. What is done is done, however; we can't go back and undo it. We have to move on. Hang in there,” he said, patting Monty on the shoulder in sympathy. “And good luck in your next posting. We'll miss you here,” he said gruffly.
“You watch your own asses,” Monty said. “This isn't over; I know it.”
“Yeah well, he's not going to like what he just started,” Matilda said. “Canning four department heads in one day is going to shake things up but it's …,” she frowned when Horatio shot her a shut up look. “It's not good,” she finally finished lamely. She had her assistant handling some of her workload. She had to go back soon though to lend a hand. She was getting a bit old to be pulling all-nighters though she thought with a mental grimace. She didn't understand what the hurry was.
“We're still officers, and we need to support the man and his policies no matter our personal feelings. If you can't, you owe it to him and the navy to request a transfer,” Horatio stated.
Matilda gaped at him. Her entire life was in Pyrax. She wasn't sure where she'd go. He nodded though, cold sober. She frowned thoughtfully. With Thistle her granddaughter off to college, she wasn't certain what to do. Come to think of it … her granddaughter had started to make noises about going to college in Antigua, right? She frowned thoughtfully. The admiral was setting up another branch of the academy there as well as expanding on the college programs.
Doctor Thornby frowned, looking at Horatio. He shrugged her gaze off. “Think about it,” he said to her in passing as he left.
---<>---<>---
Two long-delayed Nelson class destroyers had finally been completed in Pyrax just before Admiral Irons' trip to Lemnos. Both ships were modified Flight V and had finished their working-up exercises by the time the rear admiral had arrived. Up until his arrival, they had been on picket duty at the B101a1 jump point with a dozen corvettes, frigates, and two orbital fortresses. Now they were en route to the base at top speed.
Dunatis and Miyoshi seemed to be in a race to see who could get to the fuel farm and annex first to get a jump on their orders. Both ships had the basic canned AI Commander Sprite had created and sent to Pyrax until they could get a refit in Agnosta. They were not scheduled for refit cycle for five years however, so they would have to make do with what they had for the time being.
The admiral changed things immediately. With his first orders, the two Nelsons and Fuentes had been pulled from their previous duties and relegated to convoy escort duty due to their defensive design. All of the Arboth class destroyers were to be pulled off of escort duty and assigned to picket or raids after a single shakedown cruise.
The initial shake-up and swap around would take a few weeks to be completed, but when it was finished, it would free up some firepower.
He also made changes to the convoy set up. The convoy escorts would only run between Agnosta and Briev. Two groups, ships form up in Agnosta or Briev and wait for escort to do turnaround.
Admiral Subert also ordered a small permanent picket station placed in B-452C. A frigate was dispatched to relieve the Admiral Neal McCoy while another frigate, the Commander Wat'l'clock, was ordered to the Briev star system to picket there.
Orders flew to move ships around the various pickets and to dispatch ships to cover Agnosta. Two additional yearling Horseshoe Crab class frigates had been dispatched to short jump to B101a1 to keep an eye on that star system. They would sit under blackout conditions watching the star system from well outside the Pyrax jump point. Eventually he planned to replace them with a tin can and later a light cruiser when he had them available. For now they would have to do.
The admiral's firing of Harris, Monty, and Decius put everyone on notice that a “new sheriff was in town.” His initial blizzard of orders had everyone who wasn't ducking and covering their own posteriors scrambling for days. Many departments were up around the clock dealing with the megabytes of orders the admiral had dumped onto them. With the holes in their command chain, chaos reigned.
Chapter 7
Admiral Irons received word of the shake-ups in Pyrax command through the ansible. He'd expected as much though hadn't expected Phil to cut in so deep so quickly. He was certainly shaking things up. Hopefully for the better but only time would tell. He was pretty sure Phil would realize he'd overdone it when things started to bite him in the ass.
Sprite had forwarded each request for transfer to his inbox, and he'd signed off on them immediately. Monty was already packing his bags as were other officers that had been canned. He wasn't certain what to do with the officer though so the initial orders for transfer and movement were open-ended.
The admiral refused to intercede however; he had to draw the line firmly when Horatio called and explained the situation.
“Admiral, I know everyone has their own command style. I get that. But this is ripe for major headaches,” Horatio warned.
John frowned thoughtfully as he listened. What Horatio was saying was true, but he had to take a hands-off approach. He couldn't micromanage; he had to trust in Phil to see the problem he was creating and head it off.
“Sorry, Horatio, but you know better than to try something like this. It is not my area of operation. He is your commanding officer. He has to establish his authority in the only way he knows how. Just grit your teeth and bear it or put in for a transfer. That is all I can tell you,” he advised.
“Thank you, sir. Sorry to bother you, sir.”
“Understood. Hang in there. Antigua out.”
The flag officer sat back and mused about changes the rear admiral had made. He approved of some of them. Decius was good, but his cycle of hibernation was a serious problem for the navy, one they could ill afford. Since the commander had set up his department as a personal fief that made it so he had to have the final authority on every decision, the hibernations had caused a serious bottleneck. No, he'd find another place for the Centilian even if he had to stick him in a college administration or as a professor teaching administration. He rubbed his bearded jaw thoughtfully. No wait, didn't he resign? He frowned and checked the status. Yes, yes he did. “Damn,” the admiral murmured, “so much for that.”
He wasn't sure about the wisdom of losing Monty and his experience though. That was a problem; one Phil was going to find out soon enough. The hole in his command structure would bite him in the ass, of that he was sure. On the other hand, Irons admitted he needed a better intel officer, and he wanted to look in Antigua. Lake was fine, but she was rather narrowly focused on the prisoners.
He ordered Sprite to process orders for Monty to report to Antigua for reassignment. Monty would undoubtedly be smarting over his firing, but the man was a professional. He'd damn well better learn to handle it.
He did approve of moving the Nelsons to convoy escort duty; they were much more suited to that than the Arboths. They had been laid as modified Flight V versions; he hadn't had access to the Flight VI designs in the Lemnos database. Unfortunately, the design changes between flights were so radical there was no way they could upgrade the ships during
their refit cycles. It would cost as much as a full ship. No, they'd have to serve as they were and get what refits they could during the usual refit cycle. Which reminded him, he made a note to have Sprite do something about their AI cores the next time they were in port.
That opened a can of worms with Fuentes though he noted. Vargess was still in command of the ship while also acting as his operations officer. He toyed with the idea of exempting the ship from the order before he shook his head. Captain Vargess was overdue for a new command anyway. He sighed. “Commander, cut orders for Captain Vargess to be transferred to staff as Antigua operations officer. Find out if his XO can take the ship if we don't have someone to take her.”
“You could put Commander Samuels in command, sir. Have them swap?” Sprite suggested.
“No,” the admiral said, shaking his head. “Naomi is doing fine on Maine. I don't want to mess that up. Besides, being transferred from command of a battle cruiser to a destroyer on escort duty is a major disservice to her. It amounts to demotion and slap in the face. She hasn't warranted such treatment.”
“But she is junior, sir. A bit too junior to handle a BC,” Sprite reminded him.
“True, but we'll leave that alone. Besides, I want Vargess to land full force on the staff position. Lieutenant Turner has been doing okay, but he needs backing. It's high time we stop having the man divide his attention between the roles. He's a good ship handler, but it can wait.”
“He's not going to like it.”
“Tough. He's in the navy; he'll serve where he is needed. But you can soften it by hinting about a possible cruiser command later if you like,” he said with a shrug.
“Done,” Sprite replied, cutting the orders. “And done. What about the changes to the convoys? Do you approve of them? It seems Admiral Subert is stepping outside of his area of operations in making them.”
The admiral grunted. Phil was stepping outside his AO, but he wasn't ready to slap the man down. Not when the changes made sense. “No, I'm in agreement so we'll let it stand.”
