“You did the right thing,” I mumbled, fumbling around on the small fold out table next to the bed that held my data slate. When my fingers finally found it, I almost knocked it off the table but a quick snatch in mid-air rescued it from a meeting with the floor. I turned it on and a check with the main system showed that I had plenty of time to go back to sleep, wake up at a more reasonable hour, and still review the Captain’s logs of the Pride of Prometheus before dealing with the survivors and fallout from what had come to be known as Middleton’s Folly—at least, that’s what it was known as between my ears.
“Admiral?” the Officer asked as if to make sure I was still on channel.
“I’m here,” I said shortly.
“I just thought you’d want to know: the one contact reads as a Light Cruiser of some kind, while the sensors are registering the other as a Bulk Cruiser—she’s settlership-sized, Admiral.”
I wearily rubbed my forehead as my reluctant brain spun back up to fully awake status.
“Thanks for the update, Comm.,” I said, working to be polite and cordial, “double check their credentials and have Sensors and Tactical keep an eye on those contacts the whole way in. I’m guessing they are who they say they are,” an assertion of which I was confident, thanks to recent reports from the ComStat network, “but you can never be too careful.”
After that, I signed off and tried to go back to sleep. But thanks to Captain Middleton, that was no longer possible. I’d already received a preliminary report on what went down out on his independent (read: rogue) patrol, but for some reason the rest of the information had been pending the return of the survivors.
This morning I would get to find out why.
****************************************************
“Welcome; have a seat, Lieutenant McKnight,” I said, standing up from behind my desk and gesturing toward the chair placed in front.
“Thank you, Admiral,” the executive officer of the now destroyed Pride of Prometheus said with more reserve than I’d been expecting.
“I’ve been going over the logs of the Pride, as well as your own individual fitness reports and officer evaluation,” I said, deciding to get the ball rolling. “It looks like you had an interesting adventure out there—traveling to an Ancient world even.”
“Yes, sir, Admiral,” she responded, her blond ponytail bobbing along with her sharp nod. “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,” the Lieutenant stated firmly. “However, I must protest the use of the word ‘adventure’; we did nothing but our duty out there, Sir.”
I leaned back in my 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,” I said coolly.
“I stand by my reports, as they were made with my best understanding of the situation at that time,” Lieutenant McKnight said with unexpectedly professional poise. “However, I now know that the Captain,” she placed just enough emphasis on Middleton’s acting title to get my ears up, “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 unrepentantly.
“A true paragon, that man,” I deadpanned, causing McKnight’s face to redden dangerously. But despite my mockery, a mere Lieutenant couldn’t upbraid an Admiral for ostensibly praising her now-belated Commanding Officer.
“Difficult choices had to be made, Admiral, and he made them,” she glared rebelliously. “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?” I asked harshly.
“Your words, not mine, Admiral,” she said tightly.
“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,” I 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 at my use of Middleton’s actual rank, Lieutenant Commander, but after her hot correction she settled back down to a more professional bearing. “Furthermore, I resent any implication of cowardice, and if that’s how the Admiral feels—”
I cut her off before she could go onward. “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!” I declared heatedly. “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?” Lieutenant McKnight retorted in a tone that walked the razor’s edge between deferential and insubordinate. “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,” I said, struggling to take a step back and look at the situation logically. “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 opened and closed her fists, her face flushing red as she looked like she wanted to pull out her sidearm on me. But she kept her comments to herself as she silently steamed—a state I allowed her to persist in for several long, drawn-out seconds before I continued.
“Under that outlook, I’m forced to say that my respect for the late Captain has actually gone up,” I said to the obvious shock and surprise of the man’s top subordinate, “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—“ I cut myself off with deliberate theatricality, “make that, Captain, combined.”
I paused again, but when she didn’t leap to fill the void I gave a nod and then continued, changing the subject slightly.
“However, 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,” I said in a light, conversational tone.
McKnight’s jaw clenched but she didn’t immediately say anything career killing. She took a breath, which she exhaled before replying. “With respect: while I don’t agree with it, I can understand your position, Admiral Montagne,” she said judiciously, as if each word were deliberately selected before being spoken. “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.”
I opened my mouth, but she raised her hand. “Please, if you would,” she requested, and with the shake of my head I relent
ed. Leaning back in my chair to release some of the tension that unconsciously built up in my shoulders, I gestured for her to continue, “By all means.”
She took a moment, as if to gather her thoughts. “If the main Fleet had lost at Elysium, the center of those Sectors would have been torn out. That’s undeniable,” she said.
“Okay…go on,” I said, wondering where this was leading. Or, rather, if the point she was going to make was worth the wait.
“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.
I folded my arms over my chest and shook my head. Sometimes people made good points, and at others they just needed enough rope to hang themselves, I was eager to find out just which camp the Senior Lieutenant was about to fall into. Because on the one hand, it took serious minerals to enter a three-way faceoff between a Fleet of Droids, a Fleet of Imperials (personified by House Raubach), and the third ‘side’ consisting of just the Pride of Prometheus and whatever they could scrounge up on short notice. It was incredible to the point of genuinely straining belief to hear that the Pride’s crew could come out of such a conflict on top—or at least close enough to ‘on top’ as is required to destroy the Ancient planet (even with the loss of the Captain and a big chunk of crew) and take off with the goods, while decimating both of the other sides in the conflict…
One thing became perfectly obvious as I mulled over this particular train of thought: the late Captain Middleton had clearly built up a formidable command team. It just remained to be seen if this was a tool I could make use of, or if Middleton had so hopelessly bent them out of true that they had become useless—at least, useless in my hands, which was all that concerned me.
“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. 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 gave me a level 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.”
“You’re willing to stand by that 100%—even in the face of your Admiral’s distinct displeasure?” I challenged.
“I do,” she said unflinchingly, “but because I’ve done so, I understand that I have lost your confidence.” She didn’t look particularly concerned about my confidence, lack thereof, or much of anything I thought right then as she continued, “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,” I interrupted, raising my hand abruptly, “I won’t deny that Middleton and I have had our…differences,” I chewed on the word as it passed my lips, “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 looked confused. She appeared much like a person who leaned forward, expecting a stiff wind of resistance only to find the wind suddenly blowing the other way and causing an expected stumble.
“Of course,” I 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,” I gave her a piercing look. “So while you may be many things, 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 looked dumbfounded, her eyes blinking rapidly. “I don’t understand,” she said, initially sounding lost but her eyes began to clarify as she corrected me, “I’m only a Senior Lieutenant, Sir.”
“I think you have command potential, Lieutenant Commander,” I said, correcting her correction and letting her know she’d just been promoted. “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, obviously having some agenda of her own. But whatever she wanted to pursue, I wasn’t ready to let go of her just yet.
“Look, the highest you’ve ever been is a ship’s Executive Officer 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,” I said soothingly, “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’,” I finished, carefully not promising a battleship command but strongly hinting at it, having found that motivating people to do their best is a key component of running a successful ship or fleet.
“You…you’re going to break up the crew?” McKnight said, looking concerned.
I splayed my hands. “We don’t exactly have cruiser-sized commands lying around; 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,” I replied leadingly. “Speaking of which, what’s the condition of that cutter you captured?”
McKnight frowned as she leaned back slightly, “I’m sorry, Admiral, but the cutter’s not actually an MSP asset.”
“What?” I blinked.
“One of the Sundered who joined us brought his own privately-owned gunboats,” she began to explain. “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 explained carefully.
My eyes narrowed and I frowned. Was the Executive Officer trying to prove as slippery and non-cooperative as her former commanding officer? I suppose it was only to be expected of that man’s prodigy, but…I needed more information. This could all be benign, and I could just be jumping at shadows…possibly.
“I see,” I said, even though I didn’t—other than the fact that I probably wasn’t going to be adding another cutter to my fleet. It was a minor loss, really. Although, maybe it would be a volunteer member of the Tracto System Defense force? The Sundered were settling en masse in the Tracto System, after all—
“Sir,” McKnight said dragging my attention back to her. Looking over at her I refocused. Seeing she had my attention she continued, “I’d like to thank you for having the confidenc
e in me to offer a command position…”
“But?” I prompted, hearing an unspoken catch looming in wait.
She stiffened slightly but other than that slight movement continued as if completely unshaken. “I think breaking up the crew would be a mistake, Admiral,” she said in a much more respectful manner than she had done up until that point in the conversation.
“Alright, I’ll bite,” I said wearily. It wasn’t really surprising that the Pride’s crew would want to stick together. However, despite my words of confidence to the new-minted Lieutenant Commander, I had to wonder if I could really trust the crew of a loose cannon like Middleton. The safe play seemed to be to break the crew up, so I continued, “Why do you think the crew of the Pride should stay together—keeping in mind that many of them will be promoted to fill holes in other ships as they are brought online.” I knew it was always better to add a little carrot (promotions) in order to contrast the stick (breaking up a ship’s crew).
“While I wouldn’t want to stop anyone from taking a promotion into a slot on another ship, I think everyone is missing the real value of this crew,” explained McKnight.
“I already said to go on once, just give me your pitch, LC,” I instructed with a little irritation flavoring my voice.
“More than any other ship in the Fleet—except maybe the initial crew of the Lucky Clover, which has since been broken up—the Pride of Prometheus has been carrying out independent missions,” she said, throwing a bone towards the old Clover which was currently floating in the ship yard as un-repairable thanks to a certain old engineer’s determination. “Moreover, we have become intimately familiar with the border regions of most of Sectors 24 and 25. Over the past two tours, we’ve built up an institutional knowledge that I don’t think we should let go of.”
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