Badger

by Kindal Debenham

  Realization dawned on her face, and Isaac whistled. Jacob glanced at the Gunnery officer, who was studying the simulation with more interest this time. “That can’t have been easy, Jacob. He was setting you up to fail, and hard. Didn’t he tell you about any of this?”

  Not trusting his voice any further, Jacob shook his head. Isaac grunted and walked over to the simulation controls. He started the battle moving with a touch and watched as the ships moved through the commands Jacob had entered previously. Before the battle had reached a tipping point, Isaac spoke again. “So my ships. When you stuck them in there, what happened?”

  The question broke through the maelstrom of rage building inside Jacob. He forced his hands to unclench. “I started winning. For the first time, actually. Every other run was a defeat.”

  Isaac nodded with satisfaction. In the simulation, the Odurans were being driven away from the convoy; their attempt to destroy the Celostian flagship had ended in disaster for once, and it looked like they would be in full retreat soon enough. “I wonder if the good old High Admiral would like to see some of those results. It might give him a little something to think about.” The Gunnery officer glanced back at Jacob and grinned. “Might lead to an interesting conversation at the very least.”

  Jacob jerked his head in a nod. “You’re right about that, Isaac.” Then he gave his friends a forced smile. “For now, I think I’ve let you two slack off enough. Get back to your work, and maybe that will get us to the High Admiral sooner than we think.”

  Isaac chuckled and tossed a casual salute before he headed for the door. Laurie moved as if to join him before pausing beside Jacob. She spoke quickly, and with a low voice. “Don’t do anything stupid, Hull. The Admiral does what he does for a reason. Remember that.”

  Then she, too, saluted and followed her husband, leaving Jacob alone with the simulation. He watched the holographic ships whirl and explode, and wondered what great reason the High Admiral could have had for assigning him an impossible task—and how in the world he was going to ask the question calmly once he met Nivrosky again.

  Jacob was still brooding over the situation when another knock sounded at his door. He looked up to find Al-shira standing there, a reader in her hand. Putting aside his dark thoughts, Jacob forced a smile. “Commander Al-shira. What brings you here?”

  Al-shira entered the small office and saluted, a gesture he returned. She tapped the reader in her hands. “I know I’ve already sent Isaac down to bother you, but a new batch of messages from Central Command came in after he left. I thought you would want to look over them.”

  Jacob nodded, and she held the reader out to him. “Thank you, Commander.” He entered his command code, and messages began to pop up on the screen. “All right. Mostly standard stuff. A few changes in message handling protocol.” He frowned slightly. “Telosians are gearing up for something big. Maybe the Oduran League has convinced them to come along for the most recent crusade against us?”

  Al-shira nodded. “Maybe. Or they could have heard you were here and decided to get revenge for Admiral Dianton.” Jacob snorted. The Telosians had been outraged by his actions, but even they wouldn’t have set aside their clan differences for long enough to only come after him. Perhaps they had sided with the League out of dislike for him and a desire for protection, but an all-out assault against a well defended territory was not their style. He clicked to the next message and grimaced.

  He looked up and caught Al-shira watching him. She raised a questioning eyebrow, and he reluctantly tapped the reader. “More reports on the debates back in Celostia. Apparently my appearance in the court martial has given quite a few of the Representatives something to speak about. I had hoped they would have forgotten about it by now.”

  She grinned at him. “What’s this? The great Jacob Hull regrets his boldness? Perish the thought!” Al-shira shook her head. “Sorry, Captain, but the fact is they’ll be talking about you for a while. You attacked the Federalists and the Independents in practically the same breath, and neither party will forget you did it.” Her grin turned predatory as she tilted her head. “And don’t think you can downplay it to me. I came straight from there, and the Lower Seats were still mentioning you when I left, let alone the Representatives.”

  The disgruntled feeling in his stomach intensified slightly. “You don’t think they’ll push for me to be recalled, do you? So far the project’s been going very well, but if I’m replaced everything could get tangled up in whatever plans the new guy has.”

  Al-shira sighed and rolled her eyes. “Such concern for your career! No, captain, they aren’t going to recall you. You’re another talking point they can parrot as long as you are out here on the Frontier, and the government has made sure your objective here isn’t the focal point of the news right now. They’ll debate you and beat the voters over the head with their rhetoric about how dangerous you are as long as you’re here, safe and nonthreatening.” She grimaced. “What you should really worry about is how they’ll react to these destroyers rolling out of the yards and into active service under your command.”

  Jacob blinked. “You really think Admiral Nivrosky will give me command of the squadron again? Even after what happened…” His words trailed off as guilt assailed him. Al-shira watched for a moment, and then reached out to lay a hand on his shoulder.

  “Yes, I do. Alan Nivrosky might not be the friendliest man in the universe, but he knows a good officer when he sees one. The longer he has you on the sidelines, the worse off the entire Navy is, and the instant we have this squadron together, he’ll want to use you.” Al-shira turned and threw up her hands. “Which is, of course, when the House and the Council will be clamoring for your dismissal, but you have High Seat Smithson’s ear somehow too, so you’ll have to do something suitably heroic before they try to court martial you for stepping on a fly.”

  “Heroic, huh?” Jacob smirked and started to tab through the remainder of the announcements. There was little else that caught his attention, other than the occasional mention of Reefhome or himself. “And how am I supposed to manage that? Set off for Telos or the League on my own and come back with a golden fleece or something? You’re kind of setting mission parameters a bit high for me, Commander.”

  “I remain confident you will surpass them anyway, captain.” She turned back and gave him a smile. “After all, that’s what Captain Jacob Hull has always done, hasn’t he sir?”

  Jacob chuckled and picked up the reader again, selecting the next set of documents. “Yes, ma’am, as ordered. Wouldn’t want to get punched, after all.” Al-shira laughed as well, and he decided yet again he liked the sound. It had been a good day so far, and he hoped it would continue that way for a while yet.

  An hour later, Jacob was inspecting one of the railgun decks on the Beagle. He had only taken a few moments to admire the work done to restore the deck to a functional state when his communication stub chirped at him. Jacob blinked, drawing his head back to stare at the nub for a moment. Slightly embarrassed, Jacob nodded in approval to the various workers who were standing nearby, unobtrusively watching his inspection of their work. “Good job, everyone. If you will all excuse me.”

  Jacob stepped away and activated the nub. “Captain Hull speaking.”

  Isaac’s voice came through the link. “Jacob, we’ve got another incoming ship. It’s a passenger boat, and it claims to be filled with Celostian crews for the squadron. They’re headed for docking hatch Beta Four as we speak.”

  The words brought a frown to Jacob’s face. “You’re not pulling my leg, are you Isaac? We aren’t even close to operational yet, and nobody back home seemed to think much of us anyway.”

  “Oh come on, Jacob, would I joke about something like this?” Jacob let a moment of silence answer the question for him, and he could almost see Isaac flush bright red in chagrin. “Okay, okay, so I would, but this time I’m not. I swear.”

  “Isaac, I promise you, if you are messing with me, I’m going to bust you bac
k down to ensign and give the Beagle’s guns to someone else.” He made sure the appropriate level of threat entered his voice, and the resulting change in Isaac’s tone showed him it had been effective.

  “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. I thought you should know before they arrived. Or I guess Laurie actually made the suggestion, but I listened.”

  Jacob smiled at the petulant sound in Isaac’s voice. “I guess you should get some credit for that at least, Lieutenant Bellworth. Did Laurie say who was onboard?”

  “They apparently didn’t give up many details, but from the passenger report we should have at least enough people to crew all four destroyers. Maybe somebody has managed to convince the brass back home you’re serious about these things.”

  “I’ll have somebody to thank once we’re done here. Thanks for the heads up, Isaac. Jacob out.” He closed the communication link and turned to the nearest worker. “Mr. Allanis, is it? Could you give me directions to docking hatch Beta Four? I believe I have some friends to greet.”

  Beta Four was one of the larger hatches, meant to accommodate the bulk transports the workers used to change shifts aboard the repair facilities. Jacob wondered why the Navy had chosen to disembark the crewmen here rather than at Reefhome—especially since the actual berthing space likely fell far short of the requirements for four full destroyers worth of crew—but he decided to question the wisdom of his superiors another day. Preferably a day when his ships had left the docks and he no longer felt at risk of being left on the sidelines forever.

  The transport glided in to toward the docking hatch, and as Jacob watched its approach he received another sudden shock. It was not a passenger liner reserved for Naval personnel; the ship itself was one of the transports the Navy used for troop transport between major bases. They were rarely, if ever, used to move crews between duty assignments unless the situation was extremely bad, or if an emergency transfer of ship’s crews had abruptly become necessary. Jacob wondered which it was in this case.

  As the transport linked up with the docking hatch, the transfer tube connected to the hatch lined up with the airlock on the ship and extended. A moment later the onboard computer systems signaled a confirmed lock, and the tube pressurized. Jacob waited, and a few moments later the new crews began to file their way through the tube. The hatch opened, and groups of crewmen and petty officers crowded out into the welcoming area by the handful, each group muttering between themselves. None seemed to notice him, for the moment, and he took the opportunity to survey them undetected as they continued to arrive.

  To his surprise, the crews were remarkably argumentative. Jacob had expected either a crowd of enthusiastic young crewmen, full of naiveté, or embittered crewmen having been banished to this post for transgressions they now regretted. The last thing he had expected to see was a crew actively glaring at one another, exchanging biting insults, and generally acting as if an election year had snuck up on the Union without Jacob remembering it. It was disturbing enough to worry Jacob about the quality of his crews. He was frowning over the situation when he caught sight of an officer making his way through the crowds of crewmen.

  The moment he saw Leon Nivrosky walking through the huddles of other uniforms, Jacob started to smile. Leon hadn’t seen him yet, but the determined look on his face told Jacob all he needed to know about who had argued Central Command into providing crews for the ships under his command. He started forward, intending to greet his friend and welcome him to the Station, when two more officers left the hatch close behind Leon, and surprise and dread combined to make Jacob feel gut punched.

  Commander Kenning had a sour look on his face, as if he had been sentenced to patrol duty for the rest of the decade. His glare actually convinced some of the crew to shy away from him, and he looked ready to bite the heads off a fistful of nails. Jacob felt a sudden spike of anger drive itself home in his heart the instant he saw the man. The memory of how Kenning had tried manipulate him was too fresh for him to ignore it, and he spent a bitter, spiteful moment wondering if it would in any way be appropriate to discharge him right then and there. It took an effort and a personal, mental rebuke about keeping his own prejudices out of the way to stop himself.

  In sharp contrast was Commander Flint. The pure, unrivaled melancholy was tempered with the type of regret Jacob had only before seen on very old men, and the officer’s shoulders seemed to bow beneath an unseen burden roughly the size and shape of a planet. The prospect of having both of those officers in close proximity for the foreseeable future did little to brighten Jacob’s day, but he schooled his features to professional neutrality and continued to advance.

  The muttering continued as the crewmen filled the room. Suddenly one of the petty officers caught the shoulder of the crewman standing next to him and pointed at Jacob as he drew close. The murmur of disagreement in that cluster came to a sudden silence, and all five enlisted crewmen turned to salute him. Jacob answered their salutes and walked forward, aware they were staring at him.

  He’d thought it was odd with the first group, but then another crewman noticed, and another, until a wave of silence spread over the gathered crew. Jacob found himself responding to salute after salute, trying to forge his way ahead as the new crew members paid their respects. By the time he made it to Leon, Kenning and Flint had already joined the man, and all three commanders snapped to attention when he drew near.

  Jacob returned the salute, feeling the eerie silence continue to spread. Along with the curious quiet grew the itching feeling that came with being watched. He ignored it and nodded to his new subordinates. “Commander Nivrosky, Commander Kenning, Commander Flint. Welcome to Reefhome.”

  Leon nodded and stuck out a hand. “Thank you, sir. Glad to be here.” As Jacob shook Leon’s hand, he couldn’t help but notice the other two officers were somewhat less excited, but he focused instead on the small packet Leon passed to him.

  “Our orders, sir.”

  The silence grew more intense, if that was possible. Jacob drew the small reader out of the packet and tapped in his command code to retrieve the message. He read it out loud for the benefit of those listening in around them.

  “For Captain Jacob Hull, commanding officer of newly reactivated Destroyer Squadron 43. The crew and officers below listed are to be assigned at your discretion to the units under your command. They will join with the personnel of your staff to train and prepare for the recommissioning of the following vessels: Beagle, Feist, Setter, and Wolfhound.” So far, the orders weren’t surprising, though Jacob began to wonder where the fourth commander was if these were all the crew Central Command intended to send him. Unless Al-shira was the fourth. Suddenly the future looked to be much more interesting.

  He pushed those thoughts aside and continued. “You are to expedite the reconstruction of your vessels as much as possible without compromising the integrity of the ships.” Those words made him pause, and it took effort to avoid a frown. Though couched in perfectly diplomatic language, it sounded very much like Central Command was now telling him to get the lead out and finish his job. It was a somewhat pleasant change from the low expectations they had entertained for him and his squadron, but Jacob suddenly wanted to know what had prodded the normally slow bureaucracy in the Central Command to want units back in the field so quickly.

  Their reasons became only marginally clearer as he read on. “As of now, all fleet personnel are to remain neutral in the debate over the Banks Asylum. While freedom of choice exists in the Navy, the High Seat has specifically requested all command level officers to avoid making statements that would appear to lend support to one side or another. All personnel are, as always, permitted to vote their conscience at the time of the referendum.”

  “As soon as the ships of Squadron 43 are active, they are to proceed with all haste to the staging area around Tiredel. Pending the resolution adopted by the Celostian Union through the referendum, your ships will act in tandem with the rest of the task force there to enforce the will o
f the people.” Jacob paused, trying to reconcile those orders with the previous attempts to delay his progress. Hoping his frustration and confusion were not as obvious to everyone else as they felt to him, Jacob forged ahead. “Your efforts in the defense of our homes, and more especially in this time of emergency, are appreciated by those who have come to rely on you. We trust you will do your duty as officers and servicemen of the Celostian Navy and that the freedom of our forefathers will not be lost on your watch.”

  “Sincerely, Alan Nivrosky, Captain General of the Union and High Admiral of the Celostian Navy.”

  Jacob felt rooted to the spot as he read those last words, and he could feel the crew around him holding their breath. Quietly, he deactivated the reader and cleared its memory banks, then folded it back inside the packet which had brought it to his hands. Even Commander Kenning seemed to regard him with a measure of uncertainty. Flint stared off into space, as if absorbed in his own thoughts.

  Leon, however, had not moved his eyes from him. Jacob met his friend’s gaze, saw the determination in that stare once more, and nodded. It was just like old times again.

  Smiling inwardly, Jacob turned to look out across the assembled crew. He raised his voice so even those at the far edges of the crowd could hear him, though the quiet that had spread over the men and women of the Navy made it easier than it could have been. “Well, you heard the orders. Let’s get to it!” With a gesture, he summoned the unfortunate lieutenant from the sidelines who’d been burdened with the berthing assignments. “Lieutenant Trant has your berthing instructions and initial duty rosters. Those will change as we settle in and get to know each other. Berths are going to be tight; Reefhome’s built for work, not comfort, so you’ll get used to cuddling. Now get your gear stowed and report for you work assignments. Dismissed!”