Eagle (Jacob Hull)

by Debenham, Kindal

  “Seven dreadnaughts.” The number staggered Jacob. The prospect of facing even a handful of those behemoths with his crippled forces was overwhelming, but seven seemed like an unstoppable avalanche his ships could never hope to turn back. “How soon would they be active?”

  “Unknown.” Meriweather brought out her personal reader and tapped a few buttons. “Our best estimates indicate at least one or two should be online within the next few weeks, but it is hard for our agents to develop sources near the shipyards where the vessels are being kept. Our latest scouting reports tell us at least a handful are being kept in two facilities near the border, with the rest at a third base located well inside their territory. At most, they will all be ready within two months.” She paused, and her voice grew grim. “If we’ve underestimated their resources, those ships might already be active now.”

  The prospect of facing an entire fleet of dreadnaughts like the force that had hit Tiredel, with only a single ship of comparable size to fight them, was not something Jacob wanted to consider. That day would come soon if he didn’t do anything; the very fact they were stationing the ships near the border meant they were probably going to cross it the moment their dreadnaughts were ready. Jacob forced himself to breathe evenly, trying to focus.

  “So if the Odurans start moving a lot around those two facilities, they’re probably getting ready to attack. That’s something to watch for.” Jacob paused. That was probably enough misdirection to keep Yeseti guessing; now he needed the information on his real target. “ What about their main forward staging base? The one where Gates got his supplies before he attacked Tiredel?”

  Meriweather frowned. “You mean Kryshaen?” She paused for a long moment. “I do not remember any major changes to the garrison at Kryshaen. Logic would suggest they’ve reduced the garrisons there to protect other locations since they are not planning an operation. It is possible the enemy is trying to reinforce all major areas along their border, in order to present a show of force to reassure the Telosians.” Jacob grunted, and she paused. “If you would like, I can try to make the most recent reports available to you, sir.”

  “That would be good, Captain.” Then his gaze went to the border again, and Jacob felt the turmoil in him steady. The Odurans weren’t attacking yet; there was still time to act against them. He looked back at Captain Meriweather. “In fact, could you forward me the data on Kryshaen and the other major supply bases as well? If I hear about increased activity at any of those spots along the border, it would help me to identify the context a bit better. I don’t want the Odurans to catch us off guard if they begin to move soon.”

  Meriweather smiled. “Of course, Sir.” She tapped a few more buttons, and then looked up at him. “Is there anything else you needed, Admiral?”

  Jacob shook his head. “No. Thank you. You’ve been more than helpful.” Meriweather stood up to head for the door, and Jacob wondered if he had been too obvious in his questions. It was always possible Yeseti would guess his plans—she had not been made the head of the Intelligence branch simply due to her bitterness—but hopefully she would put things together only after it was too late to stop him. Then again, she just might let him launch his attack in the hopes it would get him killed.

  Somehow that thought didn’t help Jacob feel better about the situation.

  Jacob had been hard at work at his desk for what felt like a few days when his console chirped at him. Trying to keep impatience from his voice, he hit the key to activate it. “Admiral Hull. Who is it?”

  “Lieutenant Commander Simmons from Communications, Sir.” The officer sounded nervous. “We’ve received a message from Captain Nivrosky. He wanted to let you know he has arrived and will be docking with Eagle soon.”

  Jacob nodded; his heart started beating fast. Had Leon managed to convince the High Seat? If he hadn’t, what would he do next? Shaking off those worries, Jacob stood. “Thank you Lieutenant Commander. Inform the captain I will meet him at the shuttle bay.”

  “Sir.” The Communication’s officer sounded hesitant, but he continued in an insistent tone. “He also said to tell you the shuttle is also carrying High Seat Smithson, sir.”

  Jacob froze. The High Seat had come in person? That was almost unheard of; there was simply too much to take care of for the highest legal authority in the Union to leave Celostia. Then Jacob shook off his astonishment. “Thank you, Lieutenant Commander.” He started for the door. It was promising to be a very long day.

  The shuttle entered the dock slowly, and Jacob watched the outer hatch close with barely restrained impatience. The light over the entryway changed to yellow and then green, indicating atmosphere had been pumped back into the dock and it was now safe to enter. The instant the hatch was operational, Jacob went through. Ashford had to hurry to keep up as he followed him.

  By the time Jacob walked across the dock to where the shuttle was waiting, Ashford tailing him at a discrete pace, the shuttle had already disgorged four Marines in full combat armor. They all had their weapons at the ready, and they tossed salutes to Ashford and Jacob as they took up positions around the hatch. The next person through was the High Seat of the Celostian Union, Adam Smithson.

  Smithson was the man who had assigned Jacob the task of putting the Navy back together; the warm smile he gave Jacob suggested the chief officer of the Union did not regret his choice yet. The medallion symbolizing Smithson’s authority lay on his chest as he descended to the deck of the shuttle bay, and he spoke a few quiet words with the head of his security team. Then he crossed the deck at a measured, stately pace. Behind him came Leon, who looked utterly exhausted. Whether the fatigue was from the journey or the fact he was escorting the head of the Union was hard to tell.

  Jacob came to attention and saluted, as did Ashford at his side. They both remained in that position until Smithson had given them a friendly nod. “Now, now, enough of that you two. We’ve got quite a bit too much to do for all of that nonsense.” He glanced at Leon, who had wearily copied their salutes. “Besides, I believe poor Captain Nivrosky is about to pass out.”

  With an exasperated grunt, Jacob dropped his salute. “Discipline is not nonsense, High Seat—and I think Captain Nivrosky knew what he was getting into when he agreed to be my chief of staff.” He turned to Leon. “So, Captain, did you have an interesting trip?”

  Leon gave him a smile. “A bit more interesting than we planned on, obviously. I think we should head to the nearest conference room, where we can go over things in private?” He looked at the High Seat, one eyebrow raised.

  Smithson sighed. “That would be wise Admiral Hull. If you could indulge us?”

  Jacob gestured for them to follow him, and he led the way toward the entry hatch for the bay. Two of the High Seat’s security team followed them while the remaining two stayed with the ship. Ashford walked alongside, his posture expressing anything but excitement at the prospect of another meeting. It was a studiously quiet walk through the corridor.

  As they entered the conference room, Jacob turned to Smithson. “I trust Captain Nivrosky presented my plans to you, High Seat?”

  “He has indeed, Admiral Hull.” Smithson smiled. “I suppose I should not have been surprised to see such an idea from you. It is in your nature to take action rather than wait for the other shoe to drop.”

  Jacob offered him a thin smile. “I suppose that is true.” He tapped a key to bring up a projection of the border, displaying the Oduran side of the Frontier. “I have an offensive operation planned, something that will hopefully dull the ability of the Odurans to strike at us. It will involve an attack against Oduran territory, however, and the Board feels such actions are unwise.”

  Smithson glanced at Leon. “I’m afraid I very much sympathize with them, Admiral Hull. Your plan sounds very much like the mouse sneaking into the lion’s den and hoping to kill the beast.”

  “Better to do it in the den while they’re sleeping than to face the lion in the field.” Jacob gestured to the map. “Ac
cording to our Intelligence estimates, the Odurans are pulling in crews and resources to reactivate a squadron of dreadnaughts. Those ships would then be used in an offensive strike against us.”

  When Smithson nodded but kept his peace, Jacob continued. “My plan involves a strike at Kryshaen. Given where the dreadnaughts are positioned, Kryshaen most likely holds the supplies the League would use to send the dreadnaughts across the Frontier if they were going to hit Tiredel. Without the supplies at Kryshaen, they would need to choose another target—or even better, abandon their plans to attack completely.”

  “So it might delay them long enough that we could recover a portion of our own forces.” Smithson examined the map, studying Kryshaen. “Yet I believe the Odurans would guard this facility quite heavily, Admiral Hull. Such a concentration of war material would be too valuable a target otherwise to the insurgents within the League, if not us.”

  “True.” Jacob smiled. “The operation will also involve a couple of feints at the nearby systems where those dreadnaughts are being refitted. The diversions would take place a short time before the real strike occurred, prompting the Odurans to disperse their forces in the region.” He shrugged. “After all, which will President Sessors wish to save, her few remaining dreadnaughts or a batch of supplies?”

  Smithson returned his attention to Jacob, his expression serious. “This operation would involve considerable risk, Admiral. There is a reason High Admiral Nivrosky never considered such a move.”

  Jacob did not flinch away from the man's stare. “He never had an opportunity like this one, High Seat—and this time, all our other options are worse. The League isn’t going to go away, and it isn’t going to stop attacking us. Not unless we make them, and that will involve taking away their ability to conduct offensive operations in our territory.” He tapped a key, and the image vanished. “We need to do this, or we risk being annihilated. That is the choice we face.”

  Leon cleared his throat. “Sir, we have another problem.” Jacob looked at his chief of staff in surprise, and Leon sighed. “You remember our supply problems? I was able to dig into the problem a bit more on Celostia, and it turns out an awful lot of those munitions were being sold to one group in particular.”

  Something about the way Leon said the words set off alarm bells in Jacob’s head. “Should I be worried about which group it is?”

  “Definitely.” Smithson snorted. “Have you heard of Representative Wes Carmichael?”

  Jacob frowned. “He’s an Indie member of the House, right? I have heard he’s been stirring up and awful lot of trouble in the press.”

  “The press, and quite a bit more, I can assure you.” Smithson leaned forward. “You see, Carmichael is at the forefront of more than just a faction of the Independent party. He’s also managed to be right at the head of a kind of cultural movement. They’ve decided to settle San Marcos as a kind of sanctuary for those of similar beliefs.”

  Leon spoke up, his voice hard. “They’re already trying to define themselves as a new Seating that doesn’t have to answer to anyone else. I heard a lot of complaints about violated laws and trade agreements, but that isn’t the worst part.” He paused. “They’ve also been building their own fleet.”

  “What?” Jacob sat upright. He looked from Leon to Smithson and back. When he spoke, the words were nearly as cold as he felt inside. “Are we looking at another Telosian Sedition?”

  Smithson leaned back in his chair as he answered. “It is possible, Admiral. Carmichael has been an incredibly volatile influence on the rest of the House, but he’s had an even worse effect on the people already gathering at Ermine. They are talking about a greater amount of independence from the Union than many of the Federalists are comfortable with, and they have staged several violent protests on Celostia over the issue of the Union’s sovereignty over them.” A smile worked its way across Smithson’s features. “Of course, the irony of the situation is Carmichael has been using you to justify building his own fleet as well.”

  “Is that so?” Jacob failed to find the humor in it. “Is he pretending I’ve got aspirations to overthrow the Union? And, let me guess—he and his unregulated militia are the only thing that can stop me.”

  Despite the bitterness in Jacob’s words, Smithson still grinned broadly. “Got it in one! Actually, he doesn’t think you’ll overthrow the Union. He just believes you’ll be the nasty, tyrannical sword the Union will use to crush the reasonable opposition to the central government’s crazed demands.” Smithson gestured to the compartment around them. “In fact, he’s used this ship as a prime example. Why do we need dreadnaughts, he asks, if we are not planning on bombarding any planetary surfaces? Wouldn’t cruisers be more cost effective? What possible plans could an aspiring military leader have for such a machine of war?”

  Jacob grunted and turned to Leon. “How big of a problem is this militia force going to be, aside from the supply issue? There haven’t been any reports of military action near San Marcos lately.”

  Leon shrugged. “There hasn’t been any need for such action. The ships at San Marcos are still technically under the limit established by the Union Arms Regulation Act—and they’ve at least committed to the defense of the Union on paper. There’s no sign of piracy or other crimes either. The San Marcos fleet is just as legal as the Reefhome Defense Force.”

  “Yet you still see a problem.” Jacob did not allow any questioning tone into his words.

  The officer sighed. “Yes. Carmichael is a rash person. He’s a bully, one who doesn’t like being told he has limits. Once he has a real armed force behind him, he’s going to act with even less restraint.” He eyed Jacob carefully. “I don’t need to tell you what happened the last time a world in the Union decided to rebel.”

  Jacob nodded slowly. The last world had been Rigannin, and that world’s treachery had led both to its own destruction and the act of sabotage which had nearly destroyed the Wolfhound on its shakedown cruise. He could still remember clearly the blasts that had nearly crippled the destroyer, the faces of Morris and Schroder as they tried to kill him, Commander Smith’s last words. If there was anyone who remembered the consequences of divisiveness and rebellion, it was Jacob. There was no way he was going to allow such a catastrophe to happen again.

  He turned his attention back to Smithson. “Do you want me to hold off on the operation until we deal with San Marcos, sir?”

  If the question surprised Smithson, the High Seat concealed it well. “No, Admiral. If we move too directly against Carmichael, there would be no way to avoid a full-fledged civil war, and I fear the number of casualties on both sides would render the effort useless.” A warped sort of grin twisted Smithson’s features. “Besides, that kind of move would justify their fears about your motives, would it not?”

  “I honestly don’t care much about what subversives think, High Seat.” Jacob leaned back in his chair. “But I can see your point. I will try to avoid direct confrontations with them if I can manage it.”

  Leon was still frowning at the tabletop. “I agree with you, Admiral, but I can’t help but feel we should do something. Millions of civilians died last time; can we really let that happen again? Especially given where they’ve decided to set up shop!” When Jacob gave him a questioning look, Leon reached over to the controls and shifted the projection still hovering above them. “Here is where San Marcos is located, Sir. Tell me what you see.”

  An image of the border appeared, this time focused in close to the area around San Marcos and Tiredel. Both systems were close to the edge of Union territory. In fact, as Jacob leaned in to study the picture, San Marcos actually seemed much further beyond even the border systems usually avoided by major settlements due to constant Oduran raids. Then the details clicked and Jacob groaned. “It’s outside our usual defense perimeter. If the Odurans just decide to raid and take it…”

  “Then the League will have a nice, secure forward base that could help their fleet strike all along our border.” Leon banis
hed the image with a jab of his thumb. He threw up his hands in frustration. “It’s quite bad enough the enemy already has access to Telos; that’s given them more reach than they ever had before. If they take San Marcos, too…”

  Jacob looked from Leon to Smithson. He tried to keep his voice even. “This is a very serious problem, High Seat. If you won’t have me use force, what are we doing to stabilize the situation?”

  “Von Clarence and I are attempting to mitigate things on the diplomatic front.” Something of Jacob’s reaction must have showed on his face, for Smithson smiled. “My predecessor is something of a genius when it comes to speaking, Admiral, and I assure you he can be quite tactful when need be.”

  “Then perhaps he might consider exercising those talents occasionally.” Jacob caught himself and flushed red. “My apologies, High Seat. I did not mean any offense.”

  Smithson chuckled. “I am aware you and Roderick von Clarence are not on the best of terms; it is not surprising, given how dedicated you both are—or, driven rather—wait maybe…is obstinate the word?” He waved away his indecision. “Suffice it to say, the both of you have strong personalities, and I would not expect a smooth working relationship from you.” Then the High Seat threw Jacob a level look. “I would, however, expect you would support von Clarence in any particular way you can. He is going to have a hard enough task already. If the shooting starts, I will not have him in the middle of things a second time.”

  Jacob frowned; he did not quite understand what the High Seat meant by a “second time”, but his orders were clear enough. “Yes, Sir. I understand.”

  Smithson studied his expression a moment longer, and then smiled in satisfaction. “Good, then. I hope to hear good news from that front shortly.” Then he slapped his hands together, as if brushing off invisible dust. “Now, aside from these small issues, is there anything else we should discuss, Admiral?”