Eagle (Jacob Hull)

by Debenham, Kindal

  Jacob began to go over the reports he’d received during the day. It seemed like every single piece of bureaucracy the shipyards and local defense forces managed to generate ended up in his computer, whether he felt it was useful to him or not. Over the past six months, Jacob had been forced to develop a system for dealing with those reports. He started by searching for information he actually was interested in dealing with at the moment, rather than slogging through materials inventories and routine patrol reports.

  At the moment, what interested him was the condition of his flagship.

  It did not take long before a disturbing pattern started to emerge. While Jacob had been aware the yards had experienced a few incidents during Eagle’s refit, he was realizing just how serious some of those accidents had been. There had been several—including a malfunctioning fusion reactor and an accident with some of the missile warheads— that very well could have destroyed the flagship altogether, along with nearly half the New Vermont shipyards.

  As he scrolled through the information, absorbing accident after accident, Jacob felt a creeping suspicion steal over him. There was too much going wrong here, too many incidental coincidences adding up to form an uncomfortable whole. Alone, any one of the accidents could have been dismissed, and in fact, most of them likely would have been. Together, they showed a very disturbing pattern that seemed far too familiar.

  Jacob thought back to his first cruise aboard the Wolfhound. The treachery that had led to the deaths of every superior officer aboard the destroyer had started at the shipyards. Could the Odurans or the Telosians have managed to sneak agents into the New Vermont shipyards again? Could unseen agents be attempting to sabotage the construction of the Union’s new warship?

  His misgivings only deepened as he dug through more of the reports, this time the ones that had been logged after the Eagle had launched for her shakedown run. Accidents became far less frequent—understandable, given the less dangerous atmosphere compared to a construction slip—but incidents continued to crop up. Life support equipment discovered in poor condition and fixed before the heat could overload the rest of the ship. Ammunition found in a compromising position, where a simple course change might have caused a catastrophe. The list continued to grow, and so did Jacob’s unease.

  After a few more suspicious reports, Jacob decided to speak with Captain Martino about the issue. He reached for the communication controls and stopped when he realized he didn’t know how to frame the questions he needed to ask—at least, not without accusing the captain of complicity or negligence. Then he smiled and decided on a different tactic.

  Main Engineering was not nearly as fancy as Fire Control or Central Countermeasures had been. Instead of a grand, orchestral chamber or a centralized hub of information and data, Main Engineering looked as if someone had found a little unused space within the gigantic dreadnaught’s hull and managed to squeeze in a few computer consoles and projection units. Piping and cables ran above the small clearing in the machinery, and engineers were packed in around the equipment in clusters. It was loud, cramped, and busy, which meant it matched almost every other Engineering compartment Jacob could remember visiting. He tried to smooth the fond smile from his face as he approached.

  One of the junior officers stiffened in recognition when Jacob came close. The senior officer looked up from a schematic he’d been studying and turned around. A smile instantly creased the engineer’s bearded features, even as he saluted. “Well, if it isn’t a visit from the damned high and mighty? Admiral Hull, good to see you.”

  Jacob returned the salute with a smile of his own. “Lieutenant Commander Turley, good to have you aboard.” He glanced at the lieutenant Turley had been talking to. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

  Turley snorted and smirked at the junior officer, who seemed acutely uncomfortable with the scrutiny. “Run along, Lieutenant Schloss. The Admiral’s informing me we have an appointment he forgot to schedule.”

  Looking grateful and relieved, the lieutenant saluted and then retreated back into the safety of his fellows, leaving Turley and Jacob to speak in privacy.

  Before Jacob could say anything, Turley gestured to the schematic he’d been reading. “Here about the accidents, are you?” Seeing Jacob’s surprised look, Turley laughed. “Sir, I know you and I know this ship. If you hadn’t come down here eventually to talk about the way things have been going here, you’d have been a damn fool.”

  Jacob shrugged. “Well, I’m glad to have exceeded your expectations, Lieutenant Commander.” Turley chuckled, and Jacob pressed forward, keeping his voice too low for eavesdroppers. “So you’ve already been looking into the possibility of sabotage?”

  Turley nodded, all cheer falling away from his expression. “Yeah. That. Let’s go for a walk, Sir.” He gestured for Jacob to walk along a corridor filled with machinery and access tunnels, and they started off together through the chaos of the Engineering section. The engineer remained silent for a while before he started. “As I said, Sir, I’ve already been looking into things—on orders from Captain Martino, might I add—and what we’re generally looking at is a damn fine mess.”

  Alarm filled Jacob, and his heart started to beat faster. He pictured those first frantic moments aboard the Wolfhound when the built-in bombs had exploded, when Commander Rodgers and his officers were killed. It was an effort to keep his voice steady. “How bad are we talking, Turley?”

  The engineer shook his head. “No bombs built in or anything like that. I’ve got a team of people checking the ship on a regular basis. People I could trust, like Lieutenant Burns you recommended to me.” Turley gestured to the ship as a whole. “No, this is much worse. This, my dear admiral, is politics.”

  Jacob stared at the engineer, wondering if Turley had gotten a little senile in the past few months.

  Turley caught sight of Jacob’s expression and laughed. “Do you need a clearer explanation, Admiral?”

  Though Turley’s obvious good cheer was reassuring, though it was hard to see the humor in such a serious situation. “A little more data would be appreciated, Lieutenant Commander.”

  Turley gave him a smile that was all teeth. “All right then. Let’s take a hypothetical situation then, to help you understand. Let’s say you’re a Feddie with a lot of political influence in the military. The admirals are your buddies, you’ve got loads of friends all through the Navy. What kind of company do you think you’ll invest in to take advantage of those sorts of connections?”

  Jacob mulled over the question for a little while. “Probably something military related. The companies that send us supplies, construct equipment, maybe even build ships…” He trailed off as he thought through the possibilities the question had opened up.

  Turley nodded. “Yep, that’s pretty much right. If you ever look through the list of companies with Feddies on their boards of directors, you’ll find a lot of the contractors the Navy uses. After all, if you need something done you turn to your friends, right? And if that friend just happens to make a little money off the deal, no harm done.”

  Then Turley’s face grew more serious. “But let’s say your friend makes an enemy or two. There’s an officer who has managed to make him mad, or get in his way. You’ve still got those business connections, and you can ask the officer buddies you’ve made to harass him, make life difficult. What do you think you’d do if the little bastard started a major construction project?”

  Understanding dawned. “You’re saying some of the contractors are sabotaging the Eagle.”

  Turley waved the accusation away. “Sabotaging might be too strong a word. Feeding us faulty parts, yes. Skimping on inspections, definitely. Using substandard techniques or bad engineering, probably.” He shook his head again. “Outright sabotage, no. There might be a few out there who had malice in their hearts—in fact, I’m starting to think the rotten bastards have somebody aboard to kick the pipes loose every so often—but for the most part these are just people who are takin
g bribes to make things go wrong for you.”

  Jacob blinked. “For me? The Eagle might be under my command, but she belongs to the Navy. Don’t they care that they are sabotaging a ship they will need to defend their homes?”

  “Well, they don’t see it that way, Jacob.” Turley looked as if he wanted to spit, but he just wiped his hands on his overalls. “The Eagle’s been your pet project ever since Tiredel, and Smithson has given you every chance to push it through. The damn thing has cost us nearly half our shipbuilding budget, and the refits to the rest of the fleet are going to cost us more than the other half we have left. You think people are going to happy about that? Especially when they probably had plans—maybe pet projects of their own— don’t get done now?”

  “The defense of the Union is more important than anybody’s private agenda, Turley.” Jacob could feel anger start to burn in his heart. “Even the worst of my political opponents should have seen that.”

  Turley gave him a measuring look. “The worst of your opponents, Sir, wouldn’t see that if it hit him in the face.” He looked around, as if making sure no spying ears were listening. “In fact, I’d say one particular bastard is behind most of the problems we’ve been having, and his own personal agenda is more or less all the damn fool cares about.”

  There was only one person Turley could have been referring to. “Kenning.”

  Turley nodded. “Got it in one.” He looked around again. “I’d say about half the bad stuff we’ve been seeing has come through contractors connected to his family. They aren’t small fish, either—we can’t afford to go with alternate companies because these ones have grown too big and crowded out most of their competition. He’s obviously still gunning for you, Sir, and he knows if the Eagle fails, your reputation will take a major hit.”

  Jacob grinned, though he wasn’t exactly amused by the direction his thoughts were going. “And if I happen to be aboard when everything goes wrong, so much the better for him, right?” He sighed. “Turley, am I going to be able to depend on my flagship? I’m counting on this ship to be able to stand up to Oduran dreadnaughts and win. Can I?”

  Turley’s expression grew thoughtful. “I’d say you probably could, Sir. We’ve built a damn fine ship here, despite the issues we’ve been having, and my crew is already starting to clear all of that stuff out. The armor is solid—they’ve even adapted the original internal armoring concept and improved it—so she’ll hold up no matter what kind of fire you take her into. Her guns are well placed too; the ship has plenty of teeth when she’ll need them.” Turley reached out one hand and laid it against the wall of the corridor. “Give me a few weeks, and I will make sure this ship can fight off anything we meet. You have my word, Jacob.”

  It was as good an assurance as any Jacob could get. He smiled. “That’s all I needed to hear, Turley.” Then he looked around the corridor, noting the massive assembly of machines and circuits around them “We’ve come a long way since Wolfhound, haven’t we?”

  “If so, then why the hell am I still looking for screw-ups you’ve caused, Admiral?” Turley chuckled a bit and then subsided. He saluted. “If you’ll pardon me, Sir, I’ve got a few things to take care of. You know the trouble an ensign can get into if you don’t watch them carefully enough.”

  Jacob returned the salute and gave the engineer a wry look. “I do at that, Lieutenant Commander Turley. Good luck.” He watched the engineer retreat along the corridor, remembering the time he’d spent in Wolfhound’s Engineering bay. Then he shook himself free of his memories and continued down the corridor, where his hazy recollection of the ship’s schematics suggested he could find a lift back to the deck where his office was located. There was still too much to do, and not enough time to do it in, but at least he had the right people in place to help him.

  Chapter Five

  The knock at Jacob’s door brought his head up, and he smiled when the officer he’d summoned walked through the doorway. “Captain Meriweather. I’m glad you could make it.”

  Captain Elizabeth Meriweather, the Intelligence division officer assigned to the Eagle, came to attention and made a very proper salute. “I came as ordered, Sir. I’m sorry if I was delayed. The layout aboard the Eagle has changed.”

  Jacob came to his feet and returned the woman’s salute. “I understand, Captain. I’m still getting used to things myself.” He gestured to a seat in front of his desk. “If you would take a seat?”

  The Intelligence chief frowned, but her expression returned to professional impassivity quickly. She sat and waited patiently while Jacob finished with the report that had occupied him before her arrival. Then Jacob turned his attention back to her, phrasing his next words carefully. After all, while Meriweather was under his command, she was still part of the Intelligence department; anything he said to her could easily get back to Admiral Yeseti. It would probably be best to be roundabout in his questions. “Thank you very much for coming. I know your duties keep you very busy.”

  Meriweather smiled. “I suppose you could say that, sir.” Her smile dimmed. “Though I wish I was the conduit for much better news. Most of what we are hearing from the League is rather unpleasant.”

  Jacob frowned. “I can see that from the reports which have crossed my desk so far. In fact, that is very much related to why I asked you to come here today.” He tapped a few controls and brought up a projection of the stars near the border of the Union. “I’m worried about where they might begin attacking us once they get their feet under them again. Has the Intelligence section heard anything that would suggest they are going to reopen their raids along the Frontier, or where they might come from?”

  With only the slightest hint of hesitation, Meriweather shook her head. “No, Sir. They seem much more preoccupied with setting their own internal affairs in order. The fallout from their last attack seems to have left them off balance and unable to conduct large scale operations against us.” Meriweather paused. “Of course, limited engagements and scouting missions might still occur. Our sources indicate President Sessors is very interested in having an accurate assessment of our strength, most likely so when she can strike at us, her attack has the best possible effect for her political situation.”

  So far, the information lined up perfectly with what Jacob wanted to hear. He tapped one finger on the desk, thinking over his plans. “And President Sessors is building up her forces for just that kind of a strike, am I correct?” Meriweather nodded, and Jacob continued. “What kind of forces do we know she has available?”

  Meriweather pondered the question a moment, and when she answered, her voice was hesitant. “Data on the disposition of their forces has grown increasingly hard to access. We had a handful of sources near their main deployment areas, so keeping track of their ship concentrations was rather easy before Tiredel. Now their ships are on the move more often than not, which makes things more complicated—not to mention some of our sources have been purged along with the rest of the officers Sessors killed. In fact, much of what we know about their supply stations has actually come from members of the Oathbound community on Tiredel, and much of their information is likely obsolete by now.”

  Jacob restrained a burst of impatience. “I understand the question is not an easy one, Captain. Nevertheless, I need to know what we have figured out about the enemy’s available strength.”

  The Intelligence chief nodded. “Of course, Admiral.” She ran through a kind of mental tally before she spoke again. “The main assault arm of the Oduran military has always been concentrated in their dreadnaught force. They have made efforts to update and maintain that force at around twenty to twenty five ships over the past two decades.”

  When Jacob motioned for her to continue, Meriweather rested her hands, palms down, on his desk. “Of the twenty known operational Oduran dreadnaughts, at least ten have been destroyed in recent years. They lost at least two of their Troll-class ships during their campaign against Rigannin, a Banner-class at Wayward, and another seven Banner-c
lass ships at Tiredel. Those losses have actually accounted for over two-thirds of the most modern ships of their dreadnaught fleet, which has compelled them to act conservatively with the remaining four Banner-class ships. As I understand it, President Sessors has ordered at least three of them to remain stationed above their capital at Lemond until further notice. The fourth is on a tour of their central systems, kept very far from the front.”

  Jacob did a quick calculation. “So those ships are effectively unavailable for any assault against us. How many Troll-class ships are left? And how quickly can their shipyards construct more of their newer ships to replace their losses?”

  Meriweather’s expression grew uncertain. “The Odurans have not invested much of their industrial capacity in dreadnaughts at the moment. Sessors seems to have focused more on basic patrol ships such as corvettes and frigates, so she can more effectively control her own people. Our projections indicate the tendency to focus on smaller craft will continue for quite some time. The remaining eight Troll-class dreadnaughts have also been dedicated to internal security, mostly above rebellious worlds that need to be kept in line by force. One has actually even been committed to permanent service with the Telosians as well.”

  “So they aren’t rebuilding then?” Jacob sat back. “Could they actually be abandoning dreadnaughts in general after what happened to them at Tiredel?”

  Meriweather shook her head. “No, sir. They simply aren’t relying on new construction to provide those dreadnaughts.” She gestured to the border. “The Odurans had been in the process of mothballing their older Troll-class ships in favor of the newer Banner-class craft. Those ships were placed in storage docks rather than destroyed outright. Our sources estimate at least seven of those ships still exist, and that the Odurans will opt to refit and rearm those vessels rather than waiting for their shipyards to rebuild their forces.”