Stephanie sighed. “It was one of the few things your father never understood about me. He wanted to know how I ‘cheated Vegas.’ It never occurred to him that I simply played the odds.”
Charlotte looked at her mother and returned to an earlier topic. “If you aspire to be the next head of the Fleet, I can’t very well think I’m holding you back.”
“Charlotte, if I’d kept on working like I had been, there was too much risk. Once, John Gilly cautioned me that I was overworking. I pointed out that I wasn’t the one who fell asleep in meetings -- he was.
“Then, a few years ago, I was sitting in one of the investigation committee meetings and I noticed everyone was looking at me strangely. I asked what the problem was, and there was some hemming and hawing before one of Russians laughed. ‘You were snoring, Admiral!’ He thought it was a great joke.
“I went to a surgeon and got the snoring problem fixed, and then limited myself to working twelve hour days, five days a week. A few years ago I adjusted that and started working six days a week, ten hours a day.” Stephanie smiled. “Honestly, I count the time I spend with you as work -- for the purposes of making sure I get enough rest. It isn’t work, and I wouldn’t have traded that time for anything. In fact, I hated anything that took me away from you too much.
“Lately, you’re more self-sufficient. But I’ve let you set the pace for that.”
“There are times I’m grateful for the space; there are other times the world terrifies me, and I’m no different than any of my peers: I want to run to my mommy and be cuddled and told that I’m safe and protected.”
“Adults, the smart ones anyway, envy that. We’re supposed to be the masters of all that we survey, able to deal with anything. The truth is, there were times I was so afraid I could hardly think straight. It’s the one thing that no friend will ever be able to provide me: a refuge in a storm. As long as Dick was there, I could pretend well enough to fool everybody but him.”
Stephanie gave a weak laugh. “Fortunately, the challenges over the last few years haven’t been as large.”
“Don’t ever give up, Mom!”
Stephanie Kinsella looked at her daughter and smiled. “Sweetheart, I don’t give up.”
She reached down and picked up a set of ear buds and plugged them into her ears. Charlotte was treated then to her mother snapping her fingers and swaying her body and bobbing her head to unheard music.
“What’s that?” Charlotte asked. Stephanie held out one of the earpieces.
“It’s a song my grandfather liked called ‘Surfing Safari’.”
Charlotte held her thumb up. Stephanie grinned -- but kept on dancing.
* * *
Stephanie stood as just one of a bevy of be-medaled admirals, as they awaited the word that the Federation Council had finished their meeting on who would lead the Fleet for the next four years. Castleman stood smugly in the middle of a cluster of sycophants, the focus of their admiration. It was almost enough to make Stephanie puke.
Next to her, Charlie Rampling coughed, then put her hand to her mouth. It was a very quick, subtle gesture. She mimed vomiting. So! It wasn’t just Stephanie! Stephanie settled down again. It was likely going to be a long wait... the Council been deliberating about a half hour now, and the consensus was that they’d be an hour or two, even though there were only two names on the list that the Fleet submitted for consideration.
So she was surprised when seconds later when the door to the Council chamber opened and one of those that Stephanie privately thought of as “court eunuchs” appeared. “Ladies, gentlemen and officers. The Council has completed their deliberations. If you would, please stand before them.”
He moved out of the way and spread the double doors wide. Stephanie could tell from the surprised glances that people weren’t expecting things to go so fast. Worse, Castleman was almost preening.
The large group filed into the Council chambers, with the members of the Council standing before their high-backed chairs. There had to have been a signal, but Stephanie didn’t see it. The council sat as one. Then the Federation President spoke. “You may be seated.”
Everyone had sought out chairs and now there was a rustle of movement as everyone sat down.
The man who had once been the Premier of China stood. “The Council has reached a decision. Further, we prepared a statement that I will read first.”
“I wish to thank all of you for your unselfish service to the Federation. It is the work of you and your fellow members of the Fleet Aloft, Port and Marine arms that we are what we are today. Thank you!”
It was amusing, Stephanie thought. Some started to applaud, but then realized it was they who were being applauded and applauding themselves would be too much.
The President’s face remained Chinese-bland.
“Now, however, we must turn to why we are here today.” He gestured at Vice Admiral Gerard, the French Port admiral from New Cairo who had been nominated to replace Admiral Castleman.
“Admiral Gerard is an outstanding manager and an able administrator. He has streamlined procedures and introduced significant changes in organization that will improve the Port arm henceforth.
“Unfortunately, we need leaders in command of the Fleet, not managers or administrators, no matter how competent. I’m sorry, Admiral, but those who serve in the Port arm are at less risk than those of Fleet Aloft -- the trade-off for personal security is a career limitation past vice admiral.”
The man bowed formally and spoke softly. “Thank you for your consideration, Mr. President, members of the Council.”
The President turned his gaze on Admiral Castleman. “Early on the Fleet was blessed with many capable leaders -- and too few slots for them to fill. The decision was taken that officers would fill slots for rather shorter periods than we would otherwise desire for them.
“Many people, including myself, were concerned about the morale of senior officers who were assigned such posts, but the result has been very satisfactory. Moreover, as time has passed, opportunities have expanded and we are better able to assign people into positions for longer periods.
“As you are all undoubtedly aware, the Federation Senate created a committee at the behest of the Council to see if there were any adjustments we could make that would improve the Federation Charter.
“Perhaps the most contentious was the concept of term limits. Politicians abhor such limits; we want to serve forever.”
There was polite laughter.
“The fact was that we had Fleet Aloft as an example of what people on relatively short terms could do, in spite of what seems at first a severe limitation.
“At this point, we’ve had nearly sufficient votes of Federation sovereignties to amend the charter, adding term limits for Federation offices. We expect sufficient votes will have been received in the next thirty to sixty days and then it will be official.
“We asked Fleet Aloft for comment on proposals for formalized limits on appointments. To briefly sum those up is simple: Fleet Aloft desires no limits on duty appointments. That simply cannot be allowed, gentleman and ladies. We are sorry, but if we are going to be limited, so are you.
“Thus, Admiral Castleman, your name was also rejected for consideration. You have had your turn, twice. You have had a long, distinguished career and have presided over the Fleet as an able steward.”
Stephanie had no desire for the Federation President to look at her the way he was looking at the rising choler in Admiral Castleman’s face. Still Castleman had the good sense to contain his vocal expression of his disappointment.
“We stand by our recommendations, sir.”
The President ignored him. “We considered going back to the Fleet for a new list, an expanded list, of candidates for Chief, Fleet Operations. Then it was pointed out that there was a particular officer who has as much experience aloft as anyone. An officer who has done more for the Fleet, the Federation and for that matter, the human race, than any other.”
; Castleman’s face went from beet red to pale white in an instant. He glanced Stephanie’s way in stunned surprise. Maybe, Stephanie thought, it was shock. His expression really looked like someone seeing a large hairy spider crawling up his leg... sheer horror.
“The Council, once we realized what we had, took only a few seconds to unanimously confirm Vice Admiral Stephanie Kinsella as the next Chief, Fleet Operations.”
Stephanie ignored the surprise on Charlie’s face and stepped forward, and stood in front of the council table before turning to face her fellow officers.
“Not quite twelve years ago a very prosaic VW Beetle settled onto the surface of the moon, opening the way for human exploration of the solar system -- and if I do say so myself, for rather speedy trips around the planets.
“Not quite seven months later another prosaic vehicle put the pedal to the metal and made a rather short, but extremely fast, trip to Saturn. That allowed us to build ships that could not only travel between the planets of our solar system expeditiously, but out to the nearby stars. Eighteen months later, the first manned starship returned to Earth with news of a planet that could, with a little work, be made habitable for humanity.
“It has been a wild ride ever since.
“Since then, we’ve started sixteen off world sovereignties around other stars, as well as a couple of sovereignties that have formed in our solar system. We went from building a ship every couple of years, to where we are today: the Federation Council has approved our latest budget proposal that will add two ships a year to our inventory.
“The human race, and with it, the Federation and its Fleet stand on the brink of truly great and momentous things. We’ve had to overcome obstacles -- serious obstacles. Our triumphs have had their tragedies -- and we should never forget our fallen, who have given their lives for what we have today.”
The Federation President stood and led the applause.
Stephanie resumed her position in the crowd, ignoring the glares from a few of the other admirals.
“This is improper, Mr. President,” Admiral Castleman said, speaking loudly.
“Admiral Castleman, you assumed office in the aftermath of the plague that killed your able predecessor. You did a fine job in the wake of the catastrophe at Erfurt. Do you really want to leave your job whining about not having been allowed to handpick your successor?”
Stephanie kept her face impassive. Castleman had hated her from the beginning and he’d spent years trying to sidetrack her.
“The Fleet feels we know who is qualified and who is not.”
The President of the Federation’s face went totally bland. “And you think Admiral Kinsella is unqualified?”
“She is not the best qualified.”
“Admiral Castleman, perhaps we were wrong about our judgment of your capabilities and perhaps your career has benefited from extraordinary good luck.”
Stephanie kept her face impassive. She was watching a man trash his career in its waning days. It wasn’t a pretty thing.
The President continued on, overriding what Admiral Castleman had been about to say.
“In your culture, Admiral, your government believed in the civilian control of its military. The Federation adheres to the same concept. You are, sir, dismissed.”
Stephanie mentally winced. He had come close to becoming relieved. At this point in his career, he was already on track to go down in history as the worst ingrate, ever. Sure enough, Admiral Castleman’s aide grabbed his arm and started whispering in his ear.
The man shook off his aide and started to open his mouth. Fortunately, he noticed that he no longer had the support of his admirals. Some of them might have been personally loyal to Castleman, but none were willing to advance the notion that the woman who had noticed the utility of Benko-Chang wasn’t competent. And that paled before the woman who’d built the first starship, the woman who’d brought back the first interstellar expedition, the woman who’d created the Federation, the woman who’d brought home the news of the plague and who’d dealt with Erfurt.
Nope, going against that current was a sure loser -- and admirals had, over the years, honed their understanding of what constituted professional suicide.
Admiral Castleman glanced around the room and realized he was bereft of support.
“I agree that Admiral Kinsella’s record is unrivaled in the Fleet. I’m not sure of her temperament to lead the Fleet at this juncture.” He was, Stephanie was sure, able to read the shock of the others at that statement.
Someone started clapping, facing Stephanie. The others joined in.
Again Castleman’s faced turned red. It was one thing to be rebuked by a civilian -- it was something else entirely when it’s your peers.
Charlie had been silent throughout, but finally turned to Stephanie. “I hope I wasn’t that stupid,” she whispered.
“You were bereaved, Charlie. No matter what anyone says about how well I handled Dick’s death -- we all go a little crazy when a loved one dies.”
“I’m sorry, Steph. I really am.”
“I know; I never thought any less of you, no matter what you said, Charlie.” Stephanie nodded in the direction of Admiral Castleman who was being hustled out by his aide. “I’m betting that man dies bitter and disillusioned; one who thinks I was ‘out to get him.’”
“Some people think they and their job are indistinguishable.”
“And they’re wrong. That’s why we’ve added term limits, Charlie. A person should not be his job and the job shouldn’t be the person. People have to define themselves in their own, unique ways. You want to check out with a solid body of your life’s work... not that you were the one and only Sultan of Swat.”
Charlie nodded. There was a small stir and Charlotte came in and went to her mother. She hugged Stephanie and grinned. “I cut a class,” she said impishly.
“As a former professor, I’m honor bound to punish you for that,” Steph told her daughter. “Tonight you will make dinner!”
“No problem!”
“And wash the dishes!”
Her daughter stuck her tongue out and Stephanie hugged her extra hard.
Charlie laughed. “Now that’s what I call a ‘body of work!’”
Rescue Branch (Kinsella Universe) Page 41
