Eagle (Jacob Hull)

by Debenham, Kindal

  Leon chuckled. “Nope. Not even close.” He made a broad gesture with one hand. “I just wanted to know if you’d had the chance to hear from the High Seat lately.”

  “Not recently, no.” Jacob frowned. “Why do you ask?”

  There was definitely a hint of mischief in Leon’s expression Jacob didn’t quite like. “Oh, no reason. I just may have heard he intends to pay you a visit to discuss things quite soon.”

  “And just how soon will he—” Jacob cut off when his reader beeped at him. He looked down at the device, and then back up at Leon. “Really? Right now?”

  Leon smirked. “Right now. Good luck Admiral. You’re going to need it.”

  “Given your success, I would say congratulations are in order. Well done, Admiral Hull.” High Seat Smithson’s tone was a mixture of satisfaction and weariness, evidence of the struggle he had waged with his fellow leaders over the past few weeks. “You’ve managed to embarrass quite a few people by surviving your adventure. Do you have any other clever ideas I might be able to capitalize on in the near future?”

  “If I do, you will be the first to hear about it, Sir.” Jacob smiled. “For now, I believe our best course will be to consolidate our forces on this side of the Frontier. That way when we do launch more operations, we’ll be able to achieve a better result.”

  “A better result, you say?” Smithson leaned back in his seat and scrubbed a hand across his brow. “Be careful what you promise, Admiral Hull. You might raise my expectations a bit higher than you’re able to meet.”

  Jacob chuckled. “Well, we do like to be of use, Sir. It helps people remember why they pay us.”

  “No doubt.” Smithson sighed. “It is too bad you aren’t able to provide a solution to all of our current obstacles, Admiral. There is one problem in particular the Union could do without.”

  “I assume you’re referring to Carmichael.” Jacob shrugged. “I’ve never even met the man, and I’m already starting to develop a strong dislike for him.” He hesitated. “Has there been any word from von Clarence?”

  “Not as of yet. They did send a message drone to reassure us they were allowed into the system—apparently Carmichael and his cronies saw the wisdom in extending a sort of exception to their blockade—but I have no real word on their progress with the negotiations.”

  A burst of relief filled Jacob at the news both von Clarence and the Maxwells had arrived safely. It was followed by a bit of concern as Smithson gave him a very level look. “Sir?”

  “Carmichael isn’t your only concern, nor is he the only one you have managed to stir up. Admiral Borgens was in my office the day after your task force left, demanding you be declared a rogue officer. Admiral Mirov acted as much the sphinx as he usually does, but he did imply rather thoroughly you had abandoned your responsibilities here. You’ve already seen how Admiral Siddiqui reacted; she was ready to launch a counterstrike the instant you showed up in San Marcos.”

  Jacob now had a sinking feeling in his stomach. “And Admiral Yeseti?”

  Smithson shrugged. “Curiously silent, actually. A bit more hostile than she usually is, which is rather much considering her normal state of dislike for me, but no specific criticisms. I almost think she had decided wherever you were, the chances of you becoming High Admiral had vanished along with your task force. You know she’s always coveted the post for herself, despite how much of a disaster it would be. The woman has next to no tactical ability. Excellent orator and a first class mind for intelligence work, but no sense of strategy.”

  Unable to find a response, Jacob stayed silent.

  Smithson sighed. “At the very least, your triumphant return has forestalled any attempt they might have made to remove you from your current post. Popular opinion might even be enough to shield you from any kind of reprimand whatsoever, but I doubt you’ve improved your reputation with your fellow admirals by any sort of measure.”

  Jacob shrugged, trying not to feel resentful. “The situation would have been worse off with them no matter what I did. I just happen to be in the way of too many plans for them to like me.”

  A hint of a smile broke through the High Seat’s stern demeanor. “That is true, Admiral. You have a talent for it; it’s a rather large portion of the reason I chose you for the post of High Admiral.” The smile faded. “I had no idea you’d be quite so good at it, however.”

  “I strive for excellence, sir.” Jacob grinned. He drummed the table with his fingers. “Any chance the referendum might go through?”

  “Not as long as the Lower Seats have any say about it.” Smithson sounded remarkably unhappy about his own assessment, but he continued. “You’ve made quite a few too many enemies there. The only reason your military budget has finally been approved—with quite a bit of resentment from the House of the People and a few vocal protests among the Assessors as well—is because the House and the Assessors are far more vulnerable to recall and election than the Lower Seats.”

  Jacob felt a bit of uncertainty creep in; politics had always been foreign territory for him. “Is that so?”

  Smithson smiled, amused by his reaction. “With the current boost in popularity, the Representatives who aren’t entirely secure about their positions aren’t going to risk recall by continuing to hold up your budget. They’re only acting out of self-interest rather than any particular fondness for you. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if a batch of them banded together to call you a massive mistake for the Navy the next time you stumble in any way.”

  Suddenly the situation seemed a lot more familiar, though not entirely in a comfortable manner. “So what you’re saying is we can’t afford a screw-up.”

  “You’re correct, Admiral.” Smithson leaned forward, his expression intense. “The first stumble, the first defeat, the first time you look vulnerable, they’ll be on you like sharks on a dying whale. We can’t exactly afford that situation at the moment.” Then Smithson leaned back, a wry smile crossing his face. “No pressure, of course.”

  “Right.” Jacob stood up. He began to pace behind his desk, though he kept the speed of his walk to a measured stroll. “You had asked if I had any other ideas. There is something you need to be aware of.”

  Smithson raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

  Jacob nodded. “Part of the problem, High Seat, is in the long run, we have little hope of keeping up with the Odurans. Even with our technological advantage, they’ll be able to overwhelm us with numbers at some point. An all-out assault by the enemy will be too much for us to fend off.”

  Smithson watched him carefully. “I thought your much vaunted victory would prevent that result.”

  Jacob raised an eyebrow. “We managed to delay them, but only for so long. Realistically, they can replace anything we destroy, and they can pay a far heavier price to wear us down. To win, we will need to do more than win a battle. We need to win the war.”

  The High Seat’s expression grew grave. “I assume you have a plan, then. I would hate to think all of the effort behind your offensive was only a desperate ploy to delay the inevitable.”

  The statement made Jacob laugh before he caught himself. “Desperate? That depends on who you ask. I still think victory is possible, even if it won’t be easy.” He reached over and tapped the controls to change the projection. It showed the border, an almost constant image that haunted Jacob’s dreams as a result of his obsessive study. “When I was going over possible strategies in how to counter the Odurans, my mind went back to our fights in Reefhome. I trust you were briefed on that situation?”

  Smithson eyed Jacob thoughtfully. “I remember something of it. High Admiral Nivrosky seemed particularly impressed with your results, but I was rather occupied with the fallout from the Rigannin campaign.”

  “Understandable.” Jacob made a dismissive gesture. “At Reefhome, we were facing an overwhelming force commanded by a pirate who wasn’t planning on giving us enough time or opportunity to wear him down. Our only chance depended on catching the attac
k force by surprise, so we tried to control when and where the enemy would show up so we could ambush them.”

  The High Seat’s expression had taken on a speculative air. “A wise decision, but rather difficult to achieve, I would assume.”

  “True.” Jacob smiled. “At the time, though, we were desperate enough to make the attempt anyway. We used disinformation to provoke the strike when we were ready, and we took them by surprise. As a result, we managed to destroy the pirates and defend the station—though it was rather close.” He paused. “The same thing might work here. We’ve hit the Odurans once; if we can maneuver them into another major defeat when they attack, then they might be persuaded to make peace.”

  Smithson looked at the image of the border for a moment, and then jumped in his seat, as if startled. Wild-eyed, he looked from the projection, to Jacob, and then back. “You want them to attack us. Your strike at Kryshaen wasn’t just meant to force a delay. You wanted to provoke a reaction.”

  Jacob nodded. “An overreaction, actually. I want them to commit too many forces to the assault, so the defeat breaks the back of their military. If they come at us when we are ready for them—when we have the scouts to warn us of their target, and the fleet to hit them when they do—we can inflict enough casualties they’ll panic. After that, the talks can start about how to stop this whole mess.”

  The High Seat considered the plan for a moment more, and his expression shifted from one of alarm to one of cool calculation. He examined the border carefully, measuring the distance between the small patch of blue stars and the overwhelming mass of red, Oduran territory. When he spoke, his voice was calm. “Where are you going to bait them to strike?”

  Taking the calm question as a sign the High Seat was not about to reflexively reject the plan, Jacob leaned forward to tap at the controls. He began to label the stars in the image and to display the various routes the Odurans would use to attack each one. “There are at least three major areas the Odurans might use to establish a foothold on our side of the Frontier. The first one—and the most dangerous to us—is Tiredel.” The star blazed a bright green, and Jacob continued in a grim tone. “The population there would be an easy target for the Odurans, they have too much raw material lying around the Odurans could use, and there aren’t nearly enough defenses in place. If the Odurans strike there, it will be a nightmare. Luckily, our strike at Kryshaen has made that a far less likely possibility.”

  “If they don’t hit Tiredel, they will probably head for Erad.” It was another star some distance away along the border, in the vicinity of where Rigannin had been. “When Rigannin was destroyed, the Odurans managed to remove a lot of our local support bases in this area, and they hit Erad just as hard. It was only through the efforts of High Admiral Nivrosky the population was returned to their world at all, and, like Tiredel, they are still struggling to rebuild their home. There would be plenty of material for the Odurans to loot, a low number of defenses, and a history of successful attacks, most recently when they destroyed Rigannin and captured half of Erad’s population. It is too vulnerable for them to ignore.”

  When Smithson nodded in understanding, Jacob highlighted a third star, some distance from Tiredel in the opposite direction as Erad. “The third option is New Manassas.” He paused. “The system itself is a major shipbuilding center, though the focus is on civilian craft rather than military ones. About a third of our merchantmen along the Frontier are built in New Manasses, and the Odurans could easily shift that capability to produce new warships of their own designs. The system is a little more difficult to get to, given the Odurans would have to pass through the anomaly at Manassas Fords, but the prize would be more than worth it, especially since the only defenses at New Manassas consist of militia. Losing that system would be a major blow to our trade, and they could easily launch raids all along our interior from that system.”

  Smithson considered those three stars for a moment, his expression serious. “So if any of these systems fall to an Oduran assault…”

  “Any one of these systems would be the hole in our defenses that would spell doom for us.” Jacob confirmed that fact without hesitation. “Once they have a foothold, they will be three times as hard to push back, and their already overwhelming numbers will only get worse when they’ve reduced our industrial output or captured a significant amount of our population. We have to keep them from taking any one of these systems—which is why we need to use one of them as bait. The Odurans would see a trap if we tried to lure them to a system of lesser value.”

  “I see.” Smithson examined the situation a few moments longer, and then he turned to Jacob. “Might I ask which system you are planning on using?”

  Jacob hesitated, and then spoke carefully. “I have to remind you, sir, this information is going to need to be completely secret. This will not work if the Odurans have the slightest clue about what we are trying to do.” When Smithson gestured for him to continue, Jacob tapped a control. The New Manassas system was suddenly surrounded in a bright orange glow. “New Manassas would be the largest prize to risk losing, but the unique astrography in the area would be perfect for an ambush. If we can lure them there, the anomaly at the Fords will make it so their fleet can be trapped and destroyed without ever seeing any of our infrastructure.”

  Smithson’s gaze returned to the projection. “And how do you plan on setting the lure?”

  “We’ll leak intelligence to the Odurans about our deployments would make New Manasses look light on defense while Tiredel and Erad are reinforced.” Jacob gestured to the projection. “They might buy it since New Manasses is farther back from our border while Tiredel and Erad are both much more exposed.” Then he paused. “We also might be able to tempt them by starting a rumor high government officials are located or visiting the area. Odurans always enjoy targeting our leaders.”

  The High Seat’s jaw worked for a moment. When he spoke, his words held no enthusiasm. “Setting that aside for one moment, there are two billion people who live in New Manassas, Admiral. This plan would expose them to quite a bit of danger.”

  Jacob’s temper flared, but he managed to keep it under control. “No, High Seat. The people who have neglected the defenses of the Union have exposed them to the danger. By treating the Navy as some kind of political pawn, they’ve made us vulnerable. What I am doing is going to trap the Odurans and cut their offensive capability short, so none of the areas I just mentioned would be at risk any longer, because we’ll be at peace.”

  Smithson looked back at Jacob, his expression troubled. “I understand your frustration, Jacob, but are you sure this plan will work?”

  Jacob held the High Seat’s gaze for a few more moments, and then sighed. “I am sure it is our best option, sir. If we don’t manage to do this, the Odurans could hit anywhere and begin the process of cutting the Navy to pieces. It could happen tomorrow, despite all my efforts.” He brought his head up and met the High Seat’s stare. “Our options are limited, and I don’t like most of them, but this one has the best chance of working. We have to do this, sir. We’ve been left no other choice.”

  Smithson remained silent. Then he stood and nodded. “Very well. When the time comes, you will have my support.” He glanced at the image again. “I do note, however, you will need the support of your fellow admirals in this matter. New Manassas actually lies in Admiral Mirov’s zone of responsibility, and Admiral Yeseti is in charge of all Intelligence activities. Besides, to create an ambush large enough to stop most of the Oduran military, you would need more than just your command.”

  “Yes, Sir. I know.” Jacob grimaced. “Something tells me baiting the Odurans will be easier than accomplishing that objective, but I have already started on it. And Sir…” Jacob trailed off for a moment, and then turned his attention back to the High Seat. “Thank you for standing by me so far.”

  Smithson grinned. “Not a problem at all, Admiral Hull. You’ve managed to throw a wrench into so many plans at this point I am half-afraid
you will end up making a mess of my own schemes. It has been absolutely delightful to see the effect on my colleagues in the other branches of the Judiciary—in fact, I suspect they’ve started to exercise more regularly just to keep Admiral Ironsides from giving them a heart attack out of pure rage.”

  Jacob blinked. “Admiral who, Sir?”

  Smithson’s grin widened. “Oh, you hadn’t heard, Admiral? Apparently your exploits have earned you a new moniker.” He waved at the Eagle in a gesture that seemed to encompass the whole ship. “Your new armor design has won the admiration of the people at least, and some reporter or other compared them to some of the old Earth naval designs. The nickname ‘ironsides’ is already well-entrenched here in New Vermont, and I will assume it will continue spreading.”

  Then the High Seat leaned in, looking absurdly amused. “Of course, you’re the one who has helped institute those modifications, and the design bears some resemblance to your personality, shall we say? Battle-ready, stubborn, and possibly destined to save the Union?” Smithson chuckled. “It was only natural for you to gain the nickname yourself.”

  Jacob forced a smile, despite the acute discomfort he felt. “Well, I suppose it may help with morale, Sir.”

  “It has certainly helped mine!” Smithson chuckled again, and he headed for the hatch. “May you succeed in your efforts, Admiral Hull, and I am sure you will find all the benefits to morale you’ll need. Farewell.”

  Jacob watched him go, and then turned back to the projection. Was it possible to lure them into one last stroke, a battle to end the war at last? Or was he just fooling himself into thinking there was still hope? He shook away his doubts and started back toward his desk. There was too much to be done to stand around worrying, and he was not about to let the Odurans catch him unprepared.

  Chapter Twelve

  The Eagle twisted in place, under fire from all sides by enemy cruisers. Missiles had blown apart the dreadnaught’s DE sails, and Jacob cursed when a plasma lance sliced through a bank of railgun turrets. Entering commands for the rest of his forces, he sent a squadron of destroyers swinging through space after the attackers, and made a wordless noise of satisfaction as the smaller ships hammered one enemy cruiser to pieces at close range.