Honor from Ashes (Honor and Duty Book 3)

by Amanda S Green

  “I understand the good Master Gunnery Sergeant finally spoke with you about naming an XO,” she began and grinned when Ashlyn shot a look over her shoulder in the direction of the hatch. It wouldn’t surprise her at all if Ash had a little discussion with Talbot when they were done there.

  “That’s correct, Ma’am. I won’t ask how you know. I have a feeling a certain member of my command informed you.”

  “Only under duress, I assure you. I asked and did not leave him an opportunity to refuse to answer.”

  For a moment, Ashlyn stared at her, eyes narrowed. Then she nodded once. Tremayne knew it wouldn’t get Talbot off the hook, not completely but it had to be enough. Ashlyn wouldn’t hold it against the man for answering honestly when a superior officer asked a direct question.

  “Have you made any decisions?”

  “Actually, I’d like your opinion on one possible candidate, Ma’am.”

  Now it was Tremayne’s turn to be surprised. That had been the last thing she had expected. Instead of saying so, she nodded, signaling for Ash to continue.

  “I would actually like to discuss the position with Major Laboe. He’s a former Devil Dog. Although I’ve never served with him before, I’ve reviewed his record and his evals from not only his time in the DDs but also his other commanding officers. I’ve also talked with those who have served with him in Second Fleet. I think he would be a good fit with not only me but the rest of the battalion as well.”

  Tremayne leaned forward, elbows on the desktop, her fingers steepled. Of everyone she had considered Ashlyn wanting to discuss with her, her own Marine CO never even made the list. Part of her wanted to deny permission. She not only respected Laboe but she liked him as well. He had been one of the best Marine commanders she had served with. Not only did he understand his duties as the Marine CO, he respected his Naval counterparts and demanded his Marines do the same. He also had the Devil Dog mentality still, years after being transferred to other duty stations. That meant he made sure the Marines with Second Fleet were prepared for almost anything that might happen.

  Much as she would hate to lose him as her Marine CO, she also knew she could not stand in his way if he wanted the transfer. Professionally, it would be a step up for him. She had known very few Marines during the course of her career who did not want to be Devil Dogs. Those who had served with FirstDivSecBat and then been transferred to other assignments would do everything they could to get back to the Devil Dogs. The Corps, with very few exceptions, had gotten its best officers from the ranks of the Devil Dogs. To be asked to return to the battalion, especially in the position of XO to the battalion commander, was a career move few would turn down.

  “Ash, I had expected any number of names but that one,” she said. She waved off any comment Ashlyn might have and continued. “And I will be honest, I wish I could tell you no. Laboe is an asset to Second Fleet that I don’t want to lose. However, I will not stand in his way and I will be the first to congratulate him should he decide to accept your offer. My only qualification for you asking him is that, if he accepts, you assume command of the Marines assigned to Second for the duration of the mission. He can help transition to his second-in-command but I want them under your leadership and his until we conclude the mission.”

  “I understand your concerns, Ma’am, and agree.” Now Ashlyn grinned. “I figured you’d say that.”

  Tremayne shook her head and smiled. She had no doubt Ashlyn had anticipated her response. She was too good of an officer not to have. But that didn’t mean Tremayne would let her think she figured everything out.

  Even if she had.

  “There is another qualification I have to insist on.”

  “And that is?” Suspicion colored Ashlyn’s voice.

  “Let me ask you this in return, Ash.” Now she leaned back, relaxed and enjoying what she was about to do.

  “Ma’am – Miranda, I know that look on your face.”

  Tremayne’s grin widened. This was going to be fun.

  “We have both been in situations where a battle has resulted in CIC or the bridge or both being taken off-line. We have also seen that it takes time to transfer command to the next senior Naval officer in the chain of command.”

  “And?” Ashlyn narrowed her eyes before glancing over her shoulder, as if trying to determine if she could escape the office before Tremayne sprang her trap, whatever it might be.

  “Let’s just say that some of the upcoming sims might include you having to step in, at least for a short while, until command can be transferred.”

  “Miranda.”

  “No, Ash. I’m not kidding. In fact, I am very serious.” Once again, she lifted a hand to keep Ashlyn from speaking. “I am not proposing you take over command of the ship, much less the Fleet, for any length of time. For one thing, I don’t plan to let us get in the situation where it would be necessary. However, I also believe in planning for the unexpected. If something happens and the normal command of the Phoenix is taken out of commission, I want you prepared to step in until the next senior CO can assume command of the Fleet. The chances of it actually happening are very slim because it means that not only have I been taken out of action, but so has Captain Montgomery as well as Captain Vilhjalmsson.”

  Ashlyn frowned. Tremayne waited, giving her time to consider what had been said. Tremayne knew what she proposed did not align with how many in the Navy thought. To them, the Marines were onboard merely as passengers and, in the case of emergency, Damage Control extra hands. Those who thought that way did not want to admit to themselves or anyone else that the Marines went through much the same training as their Navy counterparts, especially the officers. While Marines would never command most ship classes in the Navy, they already commanded some of the smaller vessels and light attack craft. All Tremayne was asking was that Ashlyn do what she would not hesitate to do if they were talking about a smaller craft.

  “I have only one question,” the young woman finally said. “Have you cleared this with my superiors?”

  Well, at least she hadn’t said “no” outright.

  “I have. Both your mother and General Okafor agree that it is a good idea and General Okafor is going to talk with FleetCom about making this sort of training standard.”

  Ashlyn drew a deep breath and let it out. “I guess I don’t have a choice.”

  “No, you don’t.” The grin was gone. “Now, I haven’t pushed before now but I’ve known you too long not to realize something’s bothering you, Ash. What is it?”

  Ashlyn blew out a breath and got to her feet. Tremayne watched as she walked to the viewscreen. For several long moments, the younger woman stared at it, much as she would stare out a window. When she turned, there could be no mistaking the fact she had something on her mind. “You know me too well, Miranda.”

  “And I know you’re worried about something more than the little bombshell I just dropped on you. What is it?”

  “You mean other than the fact I still wake up in the middle of the night, wondering if JAG telling me they no longer needed my testimony was only a ploy to get me off-planet long enough for them to release Sorkowski and the others? Or how about the nightmares of being back at the penal colony on Tarsus? Then there’s that damned sim that keeps replaying in my head with Jake being a potential casualty of war?” she asked with a humorless laugh.

  “What sim?” She got to her feet and moved to stand next to Ashlyn. Worried, she reached out and touched Ash’s arm, waiting until the young woman looked at her. “Ash?”

  “Before the Devil Dogs’ last mission, we were running some pretty standard sims – at least they were supposed to be. I had set up the sims, with input from Talbot and Adamson, and they had been approved by not only my mother but General Okafor as well. At first, there were no problems. The last sim we ran was not one I devised or authorized. Neither had anyone further up the chain of command. Long story short, someone changed the sim to recreate that last mission before my court martial and did so wit
hout notifying me. If that wasn’t bad enough, the sim ended with that bastard adding Jake in.”

  Dear God, no wonder Ashlyn still had nightmares about it. Anyone would. That last mission had been bad enough. Ashlyn had lost members of her team. Civilians had been killed but not because of anything the Marines had done. Ash had not known then that they had been set up. Nor had any of them expected the courts martial that would follow and the two years in the Tarsus penal colony. The fact Ash hadn’t killed whoever was responsible spoke volumes for her self-control Tremayne wasn’t sure she’d have been able to stop herself.

  “Ash, we’ve talked about this before.” Well they had discussed everything but the sim. Now she understood Ashlyn’s attitude when it came to unscheduled sims she had not set up personally. “You should also know that the JAG will not betray you. Those who did are no longer wearing a uniform. They no longer have the right to practice law and, at least one of them, will soon be sitting in a cell just as you and the others did.

  “As for the rest of it, I understand your doubts. You’d not be human if you didn’t have them. But they are unfounded. The fact you are here, back in uniform and with the promotion you deserved long ago – not to mention the fact you are now in command of the Devil Dogs – ought to tell you that.”

  “I know, Miranda, just as I know you think I’m being unreasonable for blaming myself for what happened to my people. You’re probably right. But that doesn’t change any of it. However, I promise it won’t interfere with me doing my duty. The nightmares aren’t as frequent and knowing we are finally taking the battle to the enemy helps.”

  “It does.” For a moment, Tremayne stared out the viewport. As she turned back to her desk, Captain Montgomery commed to let her know Major Laboe had arrived. “Laboe’s here. Let’s see what he has to say. I’ll let you start off and we will play it by ear from there.”

  “Sounds good,” Ashlyn said and then grinned. “Want to place a bet on what he says?”

  Before Tremayne could reply, the air was split with the shrieking of red alert. As Tremayne activated her comm, demanding a report, Ashlyn sprinted out of the office. Trusting her to coordinate with Laboe, Tremayne listened as reports began pouring in. As she did, she ordered Montgomery to send someone for her ‘suit. Better to be prepared than regret it later.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “STATUS?” ANTON DORESCU DEMANDED as he strode into the ready room.

  The moment he entered, the six men seated around the table quickly climbed to their feet and braced to attention. He held them there, his gaze going from one to another. As he did, he made no attempt to hide his displeasure. If that weren’t enough to warn them he was out for blood, his scowl and brusque demand for a report should have – as he’d intended. They were about to enter a critical point in their mission and he would not let anything distract him from their goal. If that meant culling a few officers – and advisors – he would do so without hesitation.

  “We are at the launch coordinates, Sir,” the slender, dark skinned man sitting just to the right of the head of the table said when Dorescu’s gaze settled on him. When Dorescu continued to look at him, he swallowed hard before continuing. “CIC reports that our preliminary probes confirm the information provided by our advisor. Location of all enemy assets appear unchanged.”

  Hearing the disapproval in the tactical officer’s voice at the mention of the Midlothian officer, Dorescu bit back his own growl of disgust. He had quickly tired of the man and all the demands he placed on the crew. They were Callusian, the best warriors in any of the nearby sectors. Who was this Midlothian to tell them what they could and could not do? His people were not warriors. They were, at best, merchants who flipped sides the moment the tide of battle turned. Worse, they were not men enough to do so openly. They liked hiding in the shadows, thinking they were so much smarter than everyone else. Well, he would soon prove to at least Hughes how wrong they were.

  The thought of what he wanted to do to the Midlothian brought a slight smile to Dorescu’s lips. When the time came, he would not have to get his own hands dirty, unless he wanted to, of course. He had informed his senior officers about the true nature of Hughes’ presence onboard Anubis. Their attitudes mirrored his. They would use the man as long as necessary and then they would do away with him. If a few of them wanted to have some fun with the man, all the better. It would teach him how foolish he had been to accept this mission. His eventual death would serve notice on his superiors that the Callusians were not to be underestimated. They would take what they wanted from the Midlothians and then deal with them as there would soon deal with Fuercon and its allies. The thought of enslaving the pampered Midlothians made putting up with their agent almost palatable.

  “Good.” He waved for the others to take their seats. “And what of our reinforcements? Have we any contact from them yet?”

  “No, Sir,” a small, compact man answered from down the table. Dorescu watched as he hunched his shoulders. Coward. Lukovic’s ability to tap into almost any comms system without being detected was the only reason Dorescu put up with him. “They may be running dark in order to prevent the enemy from intercepting any comms traffic from them.”

  “True.” Not that it helped him just then. He needed to know where they were before he instituted the next phase of their mission. Of course, he wouldn’t put it past that bastard Zhukov to hold his ships back until Dorescu’s taskforce engaged the enemy. It would be just like Volkov to swoop in at the end of the battle and then demand a share of not only the glory of defeating the Fuerconese but an equal share of any plunder Dorescu’s people secured.

  “Whether Captain Zhukov and his ships are here or not, we will proceed as ordered.” He rested his forearms on the tabletop and studied the holo display of the target system. “I want a running record from now until the end of the mission. Make sure it covers not only our attack and the enemy’s response but anything Zhukov and his people do when and if they arrive in time to take part in the mission.”

  “Understood, Captain,” Lukovic replied.

  “Make sure each of your departments know their assignments and are ready to proceed. Current time to commencement of attack is twenty hours. May the gods grant us a victory and all the rewards of true warriors,” Dorescu said and watched as all but his executive officer left the ready room.

  “Captain, the crew is growing restless with the restrictions that have been placed on them. They do not understand that it is not by your order but by that of our advisor. When they learn we aren’t here to actually take the planet but simply to show them that we can, they will want more. You know that and you know what that means,” Kovacz said seriously once they were alone.

  “I know. But no worries, the problem will be dealt with.” For a moment, Dorescu said nothing more. Then, he nodded and looked at his executive officer, the closest thing he had to a friend onboard. “We may not actually take the planet, but there are still bounties for us to grab while here.”

  “Sir?”

  “Think, Pyotyr, think.” Now he did smile, a predatory, evil smile. “We will be going against their ships, ships we will damage and destroy because they will not be expecting an attack here, in what is essentially their home space. They have not faced our taskforce and the improved weaponry our friends have supplied us. That means there will be survivors we can pick up and use as we see fit. I promise you we will get the rewards we deserve, especially since we were denied so much our last mission.”

  “And Hughes?”

  “Pyotyr, in battle, no one is safe,” Dorescu said simply as he leaned back, a satisfied look on his face.

  Kovacz mirrored his smile. Dorescu motioned for him to leave. He had preparations to make, preparations he did not care to share with anyone, even his executive officer.

  Especially not his executive officer, one how reached that position when his predecessor met with an unfortunate accident during a training exercise. Since Dorescu assumed the captaincy in much the same way, h
e had no intention of making it easy for Kovacz to follow in his footsteps. He planned to live long enough to see the war successfully ended. With his accounts filled, he would gladly turn the Anubis over to his first officer. Until then, he would not turn his back on anyone.

  * * *

  Evan Moreau stood in the shadows, watching as last stragglers of the day left the pub. A slight smile touched her lips as the door opened once again and two men stepped outside. Kael Paulus staggered a little, batting at his companion’s hand as the second man reached out to steady him. Not surprising. Paulus had a love for good wine and young men, something she shared with him. Unlike her, he overindulged and now that tendency benefitted her instead of him.

  But he was secondary to the man with him. Moreau recognized him. She had first seen him a week earlier when he disembarked from the Midlothian diplomatic shuttle. Any question she might have had that he might be Watchman’s “cleaner” had been put to rest when Paulus arrived. His fear had radiated from him until the newcomer said something. Then Paulus bobbed his head up and down before leading him to a waiting air car. A moment later, they sped away and Moreau emerged from the area where she had been working, committing everything she had witnessed to memory.

  That had been the easy part. Harder had been discovering who the man was. She could not use any of her usual contacts at the embassy for fear they might say something to Paulus. She needed him to believe she had left the planet. The newcomer would not believe it, at least not at first. But she doubted he would look as hard for her if he had no reason to think Paulus knew where she might be.