Eagle (Jacob Hull)

by Debenham, Kindal

  Just as Jacob was about to relent and call Captain Martino to find out where the supposed visitor had gotten to, von Clarence and two others stepped through the door. Surprise held Jacob’s tongue for a moment. He’d expected von Clarence to come alone; an audience was something neither one of them tended to want. Then Jacob overcame the unexpected setback and started forward. He held his hand out to von Clarence. “High Elder. Welcome to the Eagle.”

  Von Clarence considered Jacob’s hand for half a heartbeat and then shook it. “Admiral Hull. Thank you for making the time to see me.” He let go of Jacob’s hand and motioned to the two individuals who had arrived with him. “This is my friend, Nathanial Maxwell, and my personal aide, Shareed Al-Kesh. I asked them to join me today.”

  Jacob’s eyebrows had shot up at Nathaniel’s introduction; it wasn’t often a Navy officer was able to meet one of the sons of the famous Charles Maxwell. As the last Regal Seat of Celostia, Charles had established the Union and written the very laws that now held the nation together. He’d earned lasting fame within the framework of the Union, and his family had been granted a similar level of respect after his passing.

  Then Jacob’s eyes narrowed slightly when he turned his attention back to von Clarence. It was just like him to announce his connection to the Maxwell family in some misguided attempt to overawe someone. His suspicions increased; whatever “aid” von Clarence was here to ask for was not going to be easy.

  Shaking his head, Jacob motioned for them to move toward the chairs around the table. “Mr. Maxwell, Mr. Von Clarence, welcome. Please, take a seat.” As the others busied themselves with settling in, Jacob walked around to the other side of the table. “So, what can I do for you today?”

  Von Clarence’s features grew stiff, and Jacob winced inwardly at the tone he’d used. Unpleasant as the man might be, the last thing he needed was for the former High Seat to go around announcing how unhelpful the new candidate for High Admiral could be. Retired or no, von Clarence still wielded an enviable amount of influence, and Jacob had enemies enough with that kind of power.

  Whether he felt insulted or not, von Clarence began in the same, calm tone. “I suppose that would depend on how we can help you, Admiral Hull. It was something of a surprise to hear you had arrived in this system. I had expected you to move your forces from New Vermont, but Tiredel seems like it wouldn’t have been the best choice available.”

  The lecturing tone in von Clarence’s voice was incredibly irritating, but Jacob kept the growl from his response. “The situation demanded a slightly different choice of strategy, unfortunately. I had to respond to the circumstances as I saw fit, and Tiredel has been a point of contention between the Odurans and the Union already. There was a battle here just the other week, in fact.”

  Von Clarence tilted his head to the side, his gaze becoming sharper. “Ah, yes, I did hear about that action. It was a raiding party of some sort, am I correct?” He narrowed his eyes. “Unless the Odurans have shifted tactics recently, I sincerely doubt they would lead the way for an actual assault force with that type of raid. It would have given away their intentions to attack.”

  Jacob was determined to keep his own voice just as even. “That is true, but from Tiredel this task force would be ideally placed to catch any assault on this area of space before it penetrated too deeply into our territory. Besides, an attack that manages to take off some of the supplies here would be rather devastating to the refugee population here.”

  Brow still furrowed, the former High Seat leaned forward as if he meant to continue the debate, but Nathaniel touched his arm with one hand. Von Clarence glanced back at him in surprise, and Nathaniel spoke in a clear tenor voice. “Your efforts to safeguard the area are appreciated, Admiral Hull. The Oathbound know they owe you their lives and are grateful for your continued diligence in securing their new home.”

  Jacob’s irritation lessened, and he nodded at Nathaniel. “I can only hope we will continue to be able to do so, sir—and they will grow into the sort of citizens the Union will always be proud to defend.”

  Nathaniel nodded in turn, and von Clarence turned his attention back to Jacob. “So that is your only purpose here, Admiral Hull? To safeguard Tiredel from foreign incursion?”

  The questioning tone stoked the fires of Jacob’s temper again. He had no intention of revealing his actual operational plans to someone so far outside the Navy’s command structure, no matter how privileged and decorated their background. “I’m afraid I cannot discuss specifics with you, Mr. von Clarence, but I can assure you High Seat Smithson has already approved our mission.” Smithson finally had approved, once Jacob shared Isaac’s tactical footage. The sight of Odurans arriving right on Tiredel’s front door had been more than enough to convince the High Seat the threat was real. All Jacob needed now was for a few supply ships to arrive, and they would be on their way.

  For a moment, von Clarence studied Jacob with skepticism. Then he sighed and sat back. “It is most unfortunate, Admiral Hull, that I will need to ask you to alter mission. The situation in this area of space is too delicate for you to ruin by tromping about the sector with a full battle fleet.”

  Outrage flared through Jacob’s mind, and it was a near miracle he kept from launching himself out of his chair. As it was, he limited himself to tightening his hands into white-knuckled fists. “I’m afraid we can’t do that, von Clarence. The Navy is here because it needs to be, not because it suits you.”

  Von Clarence’s face grew grim. “Admiral Hull, I believe High Seat Smithson has also mentioned my current mission, am I correct?” Jacob remained silent, something von Clarence took as an answer. “I would have thought he would emphasize just how important my efforts were to the stability of the Union. Your fleet will unbalance those efforts completely, unless you can invent a way for me to calm the separatists in San Marcos while you have a dreadnaught on their doorstep.”

  “The last thing on my mind is the small-minded worries of some batch of lunatics.” Jacob let a chill bleed into his voice and hoped it was the only sign of his anger the High Elder could see. “I fail to see how the presence of my ships here matters in any case. It’s not as if we are planning on moving against San Marcos tomorrow.”

  Von Clarence raised his eyebrows. “You know that. I know that.” He gestured to the far bulkhead, as if San Marcos itself was waiting just beyond the confines of the room. “But do they know that? I don’t believe they do.”

  Jacob shook his head. “Then they will have to learn, High Elder. My fleet will stay here for at least two weeks, and then we will move on. Carmichael and his lot can say whatever they want until then.”

  “I’m afraid that is just the problem, Admiral Hull.” Nathaniel’s voice was concerned; he looked back and forth between Jacob and von Clarence with anxiety plain on his face. “The presence of these ships here—especially the Eagle—plays rather nicely into the political narrative Carmichael has been creating on San Marcos. It will dramatically worsen the situation if we don’t act to change things.”

  The worry evident in Nathaniel’s voice went a long way toward dampening Jacob’s dislike for the request—though there had been far too little asking and far too much telling when von Clarence spoke. He decided there was something else going on here. “What do you mean? I know he’s taken the reconstruction of the Eagle as a sign we are going to try to become an enforcer for the Union.”

  Nathaniel sat back, his expression uncertain. “That is correct, Admiral. What’s more, he’s mentioned several times how much of a threat the ship is to San Marcos specifically. He’s demanded to have civilian and political watchdogs placed onboard to make sure the munitions are kept from being used against Union worlds.”

  Von Clarence seemed to have regained control of his own anger; his calm tone of voice had returned. “Even worse than that, Representative Carmichael has chosen the refugees on Tiredel as a scapegoat for his conspiracy theories.” He gestured to the bulkhead again. “He’s concocted some ela
borate plot where the refugees under Banks have taken shelter within the Union only to orchestrate its downfall, and the Navy has become their tool for that purpose. Your presence here, with the Eagle as your flagship, would serve that narrative all too well.”

  Jacob considered those words, mulling the situation over. “So the important thing would be for me to deny the San Marcos politicians the ammunition they would need to claim I was getting ready for an assault on them. Is that right?”

  Nathaniel and von Clarence both nodded. Jacob smiled. “Fortunately, I don’t plan on staying here. There is another concern, though. Has the San Marcos militia still been performing a buildup?” Both men nodded a second time. “Then how do we know Carmichael and the rest aren’t planning on a preemptive strike? Why wouldn’t they hit Tiredel the day after I leave and take my fleet with me?”

  The question gave both men pause, and this time the third man spoke up. Al-Kesh was much different from his companions. Where Nathaniel was genteel and cultured and von Clarence was bluff and unmovable, this man carried a sort of nervous anxiety about him. His feet shifted almost constantly, and when he spoke, his voice was a hesitant drawl that was half-familiar to Jacob’s ears. “I believe the San Marcos militia will remain contained for now. They wouldn’t attack the Tiredel refugees—at least, not yet.”

  Jacob gave him an amused look. “That’s a great opinion to have, Mr. Al-Kesh, but I’m afraid we’ll need—”

  “Let him finish, please.” Von Clarence’s voice was not quite sharp; the calm, smooth tone was too controlled for that. All the same, the order was no less direct, and Jacob cut off abruptly to glare at the man. The former High Seat’s attention was still on Al-Kesh, however, who continued before Jacob could start his own response.

  “The leaders of the San Marcos movement are clearly building up to something big—probably separation from the Union, or treachery, or maybe just an attempt to posture for concessions from Celostia.” Al-Kesh dropped his gaze to his own hands when Jacob turned back to stare at him. He kept his attention fixed there as he continued. “To do that they need three things: a unified populace, a credible outside threat, and sufficient military power to make Celostia listen. Their people are reasonably unified, but the Navy still outmatches their military force. If they hit the refugees now, the Navy would roll right over them in response, and they’d end up with nothing.”

  “So you think they’ll wait.” Jacob thought over the analysis. It seemed solid enough—but then again, most bad theories seemed clever at first. He needed more than mere opinion if he was going to act. Besides, the vaguely familiar accent in Al-Kesh’s voice was bothering him. There was something about it that stirred a sharp sense of distrust. Still trying to narrow the feeling down, Jacob studied Al-Kesh, who was dry washing his hands and continuing to avoid Jacob’s gaze.

  Then he looked over at von Clarence and was startled to find the former High Seat scrutinizing him with exactly the same level of intensity Jacob had directed toward Al-Kesh. There was almost something protective in that stare, and Jacob drew back slightly as he met those dark eyes. They watched each other for a moment, and then an idea flickered in Jacob’s mind. He smiled, and von Clarence blinked in surprise.

  “So, as I understand it, the people with Carmichael are building up their rhetoric about how much of a threat I am. Every bit of time we spend here is only going to inflate what they’re saying, and any support we receive from the base or the people here will drive them even further along their crazy conspiracy theories. Correct?”

  The others nodded, and Jacob’s smile grew. “Then I believe I may have a solution, High Elder.”

  Von Clarence was looking a little uncertain now. “I am… overjoyed to hear that, Admiral.”

  Jacob waved the distrust in Von Clarence’s words away. “At the beginning of this discussion, you were wondering how you could help me. First of all, the main reason for our stop here is to wait for supplies. We need about three weeks’ worth of extra supplies to complete our mission, and we won’t be able to leave before those materials come in.” Von Clarence shifted in his seat, likely wondering where Jacob was going with the conversation. Jacob shrugged. “If we were able to receive those supplies sooner, we could leave much more quickly. Could the Oathbound give us those supplies in trade for the ships arriving in the next few weeks?”

  The question seemed to catch the men off guard, and Nathaniel happened to recover first. “That might be possible, but there are limitations you should be aware of. The Oathbound permit no weapons stockpiles or manufacturers in their enclaves. It is highly unlikely they would be able to supply any ammunition to you.”

  “Ammunition is not what we need.” Jacob tapped a finger on the table. “We need things like reactor fuel, spare systems parts, and other materials.”

  Von Clarence’s head came up, and his eyes locked onto Jacob. “The sort of supplies a fleet would need for a long journey. Perhaps long enough to cross the Frontier?”

  Jacob kept his face carefully impassive. “Perhaps.”

  The former High Seat frowned. “I trust you recognize your plans might have severe repercussions for the people here.”

  “If it comes to that, believe me, we will be ready for them.” Jacob leaned forward and gave von Clarence a smile that was more teeth than reassurance. “Regardless, we still need those supplies shipped to our task force, as quickly as possible.”

  “Easier said than done.” Von Clarence looked to Nathaniel. “Do we even have that much material available on Tiredel?”

  Nathaniel answered slowly. “I believe we might. It may take some time, however, to make it clear the Oathbound are not assisting you with military equipment.”

  “No.” They all turned to look at Al-Kesh, who was smiling broadly. “Reassurance will not help us deal with the threat at San Marcos. Instead, try to pack the supplies as if they were extra ordnance, especially the kind a dreadnaught would use to bombard a planetary surface. Be as conspicuous as possible about the business as well.”

  Von Clarence blinked again, and disbelief was starting to grow on his face. “Shareed, if we do that then Carmichael—” He cut off when Nathaniel laid a hand on his shoulder. The Maxwell scion was grinning openly.

  “He’ll run off his mouth about how dangerous Admiral Jacob Hull and his fleet are to the Union, and about how much of a threat they are to him personally. Which is precisely what we might want him to do if the Admiral has another target besides the separatists at San Marcos. Am I correct, Admiral?”

  Jacob studied Nathaniel for a moment and reached a decision. “You are, Sir.”

  Understanding had dawned in von Clarence’s eyes. He started to smile. “And while you are off accomplishing your other goal, Carmichael will whip himself into a misguided frenzy. The best way to stop a loudmouth is to prove him a fool; perhaps his support will collapse if we give him enough rope to hang himself with. Admiral Hull, I believe you might be able to help us here after all.”

  “Glad to hear it.” Jacob stood, and the others rose to their feet as well. It would be a gamble, but if it worked, then he’d have a very good chance of killing two birds with one stone. More accurately, he’d massacre a whole flock of birds with one very big rock. Perhaps talking with von Clarence had not been such a bad idea after all.

  Chapter Eight

  Jacob watched the huge supply ship maneuver into position near his flagship. It was an odd feeling, knowing the captain of the other vessel was from the Oduran League originally, and yet there was no sign of hostility in the oddly-accented voice as the transmission came in. “Fresh Hope has commenced docking procedures. Please acknowledge and direct our course.”

  He saw Ashford, standing dutifully nearby, mutter something under his breath in response to the strange phrasing, and Corporal Patel chuckled. Jacob could sympathize. Apparently half of the cargo transfers in the Oduran League were conducted with a strange sort of ritualistic air; either that, or Jacob failed to recognize the same ceremony in his o
wn society. It must have been hard for the refugees to adapt themselves to the Union’s differences, but none of them seemed especially strained by the need to do so. Their calm despite their situation was unusual to Jacob, and he half expected them to turn traitor simply out of frustration with their circumstances, but he hadn’t heard a single complaint from any of the Oathbound he’d met.

  Footsteps behind Jacob caused him to turn, and he found himself face to face with a prime example. Ship Handler Xavier Tsokashi had been one of the most famous members of Banks’ peace movement that led to their exile. He’d been a stolid advocate for disarmament, as had most of Banks’ followers, and his clothing reflected his dedication. Tsokashi wore a simple tunic and trousers and a dark overcoat with red stitching along the cuffs of the sleeves. A small pin, worked into the shape of a dove, was clipped to the inside of the coat’s collar, a visible sign of the pacifism the Oathbound had sworn to uphold.

  There were other signs of what that dedication had cost Tsokashi personally. One sleeve of the coat was empty; the captain had lost an arm during the violent purges the League had carried out near the final days of Banks’ rule, and there were scars on his hard face Jacob guessed had been caused by the same explosion. Nevertheless, his eyes were clear and focused, and when he extended his remaining hand to Jacob, his grip was firm. “Admiral Hull. I came to make sure your supplies were being loaded to your satisfaction.”

  Jacob smiled. “They are, Ship Handler.” It was an odd title, but the Oathbound had refused, as much as possible, any trace of military style. Like most niceties, it was something Jacob disliked dancing around, but if the former Odurans were willing to fully load his fleet for their journey, he wasn’t going to insult them. “Your crews work hard. They are remarkably efficient.”

  “I am glad to hear that, Admiral.” Tsokashi’s gaze went to the projection, where the freighter had shifted over alongside the flagship. “We had worried we wouldn’t be able to meet your deadline, or the supplies would not be found, but you should be able to depart on schedule.”