Eagle (Jacob Hull)

by Debenham, Kindal

  “Don’t get cocky, Sir. We’re not quite done with you yet.” Leon grinned and entered commands for his forces, and the projection for their battle showed a second wave of cruisers rushing in at the Eagle, their railguns blazing.

  “I certainly hope you aren’t.” Jacob bared his teeth in a grin. The Eagle unleashed a full volley of missiles into the face of the incoming ships. Explosions cascaded across them, and two of them tumbled out of formation, their internal structures broken. “I would expect better from an officer of the Celostian Navy.”

  Leon grumbled under his breath. Isaac merely raised an eyebrow and pressed a button flat. “Good.”

  Three cruisers riftjumped from the edge of the battle, reappearing at point blank range with the crippled flagship. All three opened fire, pouring railgun shells and missiles into the battered dreadnaught. For a moment, it seemed the Eagle had weathered the barrage without problems. Then plasma fountained from half a dozen gaping holes, and the ship tore itself to pieces with secondary explosions.

  Jacob shook his head as Leon and Isaac’s remaining ships swept the now-leaderless fragments of his force from space. He forced himself to smile. “Well done, Captain Nivrosky, Captain Bellworth.”

  Leon returned his smile with more than a hint of triumph, while Isaac merely remained impassive and cold. Both men had been more than happy to join him in the main briefing room for some simulation training, and it was clear Jacob had made a very good choice on which of his commanders could challenge him. Out of the previous four sessions, Jacob had only been able to win twice.

  Isaac tapped a button to reverse the recording of the fight, and Jacob winced when his flagship took the missile barrage that wiped away its DE sail rigs.

  “You’re still leaving the Eagle too exposed, Sir. It may be a dreadnaught and heavily armored, but not every Oduran is going to charge you head on. Especially not after Kryshaen.”

  Leon nodded, his triumph fading. “He’s right, Jacob. That sort of head to head contact was probably something we won’t be able to repeat. Any commander worth their salt will avoid it now they know what sort of ship you’ve built.”

  “Just like you two did.” Jacob fell silent a moment.

  For the past two battles, Leon and Isaac had consistently worked to spread out their forces, using superior maneuverability to sweep out and around the Eagle’s firepower and heavy forward armor. Once they’d worked around behind the lumbering ship, the DE sails had become easy targets—leaving Jacob to frantically try to defend a lamed warship. “So if we can’t count on a direct firing run, what can we count on?”

  Isaac shrugged. “The Odurans will try to outflank you and avoid your guns. You need to find a way to force them into range.”

  “Easier said than done.” Jacob gestured to the image. “You both saw through my attempts to lure you in, and I’m sure they will too.”

  “You’re right, of course, but there has to be some way.” Leon stroked his chin pensively, then pointed up at the hologram. “What if you create a following force, stationed just behind the Eagle? That way if they try to turn into the dreadnaught’s wake, they expose themselves for a firing run on their DE sails.”

  Jacob considered it for a moment, starting to see the edges of a new idea. “And if they cut things too close, we can push them into range for the Eagle’s railguns. Maybe we can try to…” He glanced up when Al-shira entered the briefing room with a determined look on her face. “Captain, what can I do for y—”

  “We got a message drone from Tiredel today.” Al-shira’s face was locked in a grim expression. She nodded to Leon and Isaac before handing Jacob her personal reader. “The Oathbound are reporting San Marcos militia ships are jumping in and out of the system. They aren’t harassing convoys or intercepting freighters yet, but some of them are clearly engaged in scouting activities.”

  Jacob felt a burst of alarm run through him. “Any word from von Clarence or the Maxwells?”

  Al-shira shook her head. “Nothing.”

  Leon frowned. “He might have chosen to send a drone straight through to Celostia, but the High Seat would probably have reported back to us by now if he’d heard anything.”

  Jacob thought though his frustratingly limited options again and bit off a curse. “We’ll have to hope we’ll hear more from them soon. For the time being, we need to increase Navy presence at Tiredel. Perhaps Admiral Siddiqui…” He looked over at Al-shira. “Do we have any news from her? Has she been able to get anything back from her scouts?”

  Al-shira answered without hesitation. “She has reported all of the Oduran routes are being covered. There’s no sign of a major Oduran offensive, but she has managed to intercept several raiding parties. She’s managed to either deter or destroy them.”

  “I always knew I liked that admiral.” Isaac’s smile was hard. “At the very least the Indies know how to fight. Maybe we could have them teach lessons to the Feds?” Leon snorted and raised his eyes to the ceiling, as if imploring for help.

  Jacob had allowed himself a smile at the remark; at least some good news had arrived. Then he looked at Al-shira again. Her face was still grim; there was more bad news she hadn’t delivered yet.

  “What else is there?”

  She gestured to the reader in his hand. “Admiral Borgens made a speech yesterday. In it, he cites a few sources of danger to the stability of the Union.”

  Dread filled Jacob. He tabbed to Al-shira’s summary and started to read. It wasn’t long before had to stop, because he had the sudden urge to throw the device at the nearest wall. “You have got to be kidding me. Right now he feels he needs to attack me.”

  Al-shira remained silent. That sign alone told Jacob the worst was yet to come, but she just gestured to the reader again.

  Jacob went back to reading a few moments more, and he growled. “He’s attacking Carmichael and his goons? Now? The only thing this can possibly do is stir them up even more than they already are. With von Clarence still on the planet, this could be a disaster.”

  Leon walked over and Jacob handed him the reader. As Leon read the summary, Jacob looked back to Al-shira. “What are our options if the San Marcos group takes von Clarence hostage?”

  “Not good.” Al-shira shook her head. “Short of an all-out offensive, we don’t have any real chance to do anything. Besides, if we attack, or if Borgens has managed to stir the separatists into a frenzy, they might just kill von Clarence, along with all the rest of the people with him.”

  Face pale, Leon handed the reader back to Al-shira. “He must not know, Jacob. Borgens is devoted to von Clarence—the man served under him during the Insurrections, and von Clarence saved his life—and I don’t think he’d knowingly put the man in danger, no matter what his goal might be.”

  “You mean whatever ambitions he and Mirov have once one of them is made High Admiral.” Jacob tried not to growl the words, but he had a strong suspicion he was failing. “I wonder if they’ve realized if they don’t stop doing things like this, we won’t have a Navy left to need a High Admiral?”

  Al-shira shrugged. “If we could always depend on having reasonable people opposing us, our job would be quite a bit easier, Sir.” She glanced down at the reader again, her expression now shifting to a more calculating state. “Of course, this may give us another opportunity we didn’t have before.”

  Jacob gave her a curious look. “Is that so?”

  She nodded. “Absolutely. Mind if I show you something?” Jacob gestured for her to go ahead, and she continued. “You remember at this point where he is talking about a need for better coordination and direction from the leadership in the Navy?”

  “It was a little hard to forget, since he leaned so hard on the vacant position of High Admiral.” Jacob grimaced. “It was a bit more subtle than his attacks on the disloyal populace of the Frontier at least but still probably meant as a barb for me.”

  “Well, this barb can hook either one of you.” Al-shira grinned. “Admiral Borgens is also a membe
r of the current Navy leadership, after all. He has to stand accused of same inaction and disorganization if someone else starts to step in and coordinate things and he resists.”

  Understanding dawned. “Which means if I make a public request for the Admiralty Board to meet, he has to come. No delays or excuses to put things off like before.”

  Al-shira looked smug. “At the very least, he’d look pretty hypocritical. That wouldn’t do a whole lot of good for his political agenda, or Mirov’s. If he comes, I’m betting the others will decide to show up too. Siddiqui won’t want our policies dominated by Federalists, Mirov won’t want to look like he’s too uninvolved, and Yeseti wouldn’t risk being left out. He’s given you the perfect opening to badger them all into meeting with you again.”

  Jacob smiled. “How kind of Admiral Borgens. I’ll have to thank him properly once he gets here.” He chuckled to himself. “Any suggestions on the wording?”

  An annoyed look was his first answer. Then Al-shira spoke. “Just make it blunt enough, and he’ll have to come. The idiot’s already boxed himself in.”

  Isaac snorted loudly. “Blunt? I think Admiral Hull will be able to do that very well.”

  “Thanks, Captain Bellworth.” Jacob sighed, and then he looked back at the projection of the simulation. “Thank you, Captain Al-shira. I appreciate your help. I’ll discuss this more with you later.”

  Al-shira saluted. “Don’t let me keep you, Ironsides.” The nickname brought Jacob’s head up, and he saw her eyes were bright with silent laughter as she waited for his response. “After all, we all know what happens when something gets in your way.”

  He snorted and raised his hand to return the salute. “Thank you, Naomi.” Jacob watched as she strode out, obviously quite pleased with herself. It could have been worse, as nicknames went, but she would never let him live it down—and by the looks of them, neither Isaac nor Leon intended to let him off easy either. Shaking his head, he turned back to simulation and wondered how long it would take before the next catastrophe landed on his desk.

  Three weeks after the Eagle had arrived at New Vermont, Jacob waited in the corridor led to the shuttle bays. He had no company; the other members of the Admiralty Board had requested privacy when they arrived, and as their host, Jacob had been more than happy to grant their request. After all, he was about to ask quite a bit more of them than he had before, and he didn’t want to get off on the wrong foot with any of them.

  At the very least, the flagship was going to be much more presentable this time. The ship had taken plenty of damage during the fight at Kryshaen; the missile barrage that had struck it would have ripped any lesser ship apart. Unfortunately for the Odurans, the majority of the damage had been absorbed by internal armor, storage compartments, and buffer rooms specifically designed for that purpose. Engineers from the shipyards had already managed to repair most of the damage, and Turley had already given Jacob an estimate that the ship would be able to leave the yard in another two days.

  While Jacob waited for the other admirals to arrive, he took a moment to examine the bulkhead just outside the shuttle bay. There had been damage there—at least, one of the reports had indicated a piece of fragmented missile had penetrated the hull nearby and lodged in the wall. The engineering staff had already been busy in the area, carefully sealing the breaches in the compartments and repairing the equipment behind the bulkhead. Shuttle Bay Three was a VIP entrance, after all, and the last thing an engineer wanted was to have to explain why an admiral had been sucked out into space.

  Admirals Yeseti and Mirov had been the first to arrive, coming together on the same ship. The two senior officers of the Navy were thick as thieves, and both had allowed Jacob to escort them to their temporary quarters with a stony, dignified silence. Admiral Yeseti had glanced at him repeatedly with a kind of vicious glee in her eyes; she had something unpleasant planned for him, an impression reinforced by the presence of Captain Anthony Kenning among the rest of Mirov’s staff.

  In sharp contrast, Admiral Siddiqui had been considerably friendly. She’d been fresh from her efforts among the militia on the border, and her good mood might have had something to do with the fact that early warnings from the new reconnaissance program had allowed her to catch an Oduran raiding party in Adamson and decimate it, while militia captains had managed to score several victories against opportunistic pirates from Telos. Siddiqui had described those achievements with a wide smile, which Jacob felt was a good sign of things to come.

  Last of all, Admiral Borgens had finally finished dragging his feet and was about to arrive. It was obvious the man held some measure of resentment at being summoned from his comfortable post in orbit around Celostia. He realized Jacob had trapped him into attending, and Borgens’ glower during his acceptance message suggested Jacob hadn’t managed to win a friend by arranging things this way. Fortunately, Jacob had other ideas about how to secure his cooperation, but those plans didn’t help him look forward to Borgens’ unpleasant arrival, even if Jacob had the responsibility to personally welcome him.

  As the shuttle swung into the bay and the compartment pressurized, Jacob ran over what he intended to say in his mind. The moment was critical; without the support of the Admiralty Board, no amount of public pressure or common sense was going to stir the Lower Seats to do their duty. He had to persuade these officers, or the situation would only continue to worsen.

  Admiral Borgens strode out of the shuttle with all the haughtiness of a corporate executive. He looked around the shuttle bay until his gaze fell on Jacob, and for a moment Jacob thought the older officer would snarl at him. Instead, Admiral Borgens crossed the deck to him, glancing at the member of Jacob’s security detail who was hovering nearby. “Good afternoon, Admiral Hull.”

  “Admiral Borgens, welcome aboard the Eagle. Was your journey agreeable?”

  Borgens snorted. “As agreeable as one might expect.” He looked around the shuttle bay. “Strange. I would have expected to see more damage given your recent adventures.”

  The tone of Borgens’ voice made the comment far more scornful than it would have been otherwise, but Jacob ignored it. He couldn’t afford to let his temper rule his response this time, even if he had been up to exchanging taunts with his fellow admiral. “The engineers at New Vermont have done excellent work. The damage was not quite as bad to begin with, given our upgraded protection, but they’ve still done a damn good job, as my chief engineer would say.” Jacob gestured for Borgens to accompany him. “This way, Admiral.”

  If Borgens gave any sign of disapproval at Jacob’s language, he didn’t show it. Instead, he assumed a thoughtful expression. “All that aside, I do wish you and your ship a quick recovery. I would much rather have you watching over the mess near the border than convalescing here in New Vermont.”

  Jacob couldn’t keep a wry tone from his voice. “Which mess this time, Admiral? We seem to have too many of them these days.”

  Borgens’ expression didn’t give any sign of humor. “San Marcos. That hotspot of rebellion needs to be watched carefully.” He eyed Jacob warily. “I was encouraged when you moved your forces out to Tiredel to keep an eye on them, but I do wish you had stayed there.”

  Jacob allowed himself a grin. “I’m sure the Odurans at Kryshaen shared that opinion, Admiral Borgens, but I can’t always accommodate everyone.”

  The remark did not improve Borgens’ mood. His tone grew more condescending than before. “I wonder if the refugees at Tiredel share that opinion as well? After all, it was their kin you were slaughtering, wasn’t it? I imagine they might have some difficulty on whether or not they are supposed to cheer your triumphant return.”

  With some effort, Jacob restrained his temper. It was an opening to steer the conversation the way he wanted it to go, and he had to take it, regardless of how frustrating the man’s behavior could appear. “The Oathbound seemed to be doing rather well, though I assume they are missing the Maxwells. Nathaniel Maxwell in particular seems to have ta
ken them under his wing.”

  Jacob expected another barbed reply from the other officer, but Borgens remained quiet for a moment or two. When he spoke again, his voice was much less blatantly disrespectful. “The Maxwells were involved in their asylum, I knew that much. Otherwise I doubt the Odurans would ever have been permitted to settle among us. I did not know they had left Tiredel, however.”

  Jacob hesitated. “He left with Mr. von Clarence on his mission to San Marcos. I believe Nathaniel and at least two of his brothers were aboard, along with some of the rest of the von Clarence family.”

  Borgens hissed as if he had been struck. “Surely you’re joking.” When Jacob did not respond, Borgens grew flushed. “The Carmichael separatists are some of the most dangerous threats to the Union, and von Clarence led a prime group of hostages right into their midst? What could he have been thinking?” Then his attention refocused on Jacob. “And you were aware of this? How could you have let this happen? Do you know what you might have started if anything goes wrong while they are there? Perhaps if you were not so focused on your little assault on the League, we could have stopped this disaster.”

  Jacob felt a flare of anger run through him, and despite his best diplomatic efforts, his words grew hard. “My decision was made for my own reasons, Admiral Borgens, and von Clarence did not inform me of his intentions before my task force left. It is asking a little much for me to have to be psychic in order to perform my duties correctly.”

  “A little foresight and wisdom is not something unusual in a military leader, Admiral Hull.” Borgens’ voice dropped into a threatening tone, and his face was tight with anger. “If you knew they were in the area at all, you should have been concerned. Those separatists could have killed them by now, and it would have been your responsibility. You should have held off on your attack until Carmichael and his ilk were dealt with.”