He paused and looked at me.
“We’ll be going to an awards ceremony at nine. I understand you have a suit definition for Sci-Fi Dress?” I nodded. “Close enough. Wear those, although if you can match ours, all the better. Ribbons are fine.”
“I’ll need a scan of yours. If any of your officers are already in Dress uniform, I can scan those.”
“Admiral Hallington is in the outer office, you can use his to scan.”
“Thank you sir.”
“This afternoon at four, there’ll be a civilian reception on the Orbital station. Everyone from your ships is invited. It’ll be followed by a state dinner. Dress uniforms. You can expect a late night. Have you checked your emails this morning?”
The change in topic caught me by surprise.
“Ah, no. I took the opportunity for a good night’s sleep. I didn’t get that far on the ride over.”
“Check them now. You should have one from Marshall Bigglesworth. Throw it to the wall.”
I pulled my pad from its hip pouch. Sure enough, there was such an email. I threw it to the wall as requested.
“Vice Admiral Hunter. You and your people are invited to London for a reception at the Palace. We’re inviting all the major players in the Midgard war to attend, save those on blockade duty in Midgard itself. Please reply with your acceptance of this invitation, and a probable ETA. Bigglesworth out.”
“Sir…”
“Call me Darius, Jon. You’re wanting to know when you can leave?” I nodded. “We’ll all be leaving at oh seven hundred tomorrow. In fact, I wanted to ask you a favour. We don’t have a fast enough Command ship. Can I hitch a ride with you? I have a Battlecruiser which can follow after to bring me, Admiral Hallington, and my staff, home.”
I grinned at him.
“No problem. I’ve flag accommodation onboard you can both use. Your staff can stay on the Battlecruiser. I had a modification done to my Carrier, so we can actually dock your ship underneath. As long as that doesn’t offend her captain.”
He laughed.
“You never cease to amaze me Jon. Done and done. You better send off a reply now, you won’t get much chance from now on.”
I did the math on how long the trip to London would take from here. The direct route was Kansas, Washington, London, so not a long trip. Roughly twenty one hours in total. So we should get there about four, the morning after leaving. I did a quick vid accepting the invitation, and giving the ETA for us, and the American contingent.
“Now,” Darius said when I was done, “if you’ll excuse me, I need to dress. Admiral Hallington is outside, he’ll show you to the ceremony.”
He rose, offered his hand again, and we shook.
I walked out into the outer office. Admiral Hallington was waiting with his arm outstretched. We shook. He didn’t look a lot better than Darius did.
“Nice to see you again sir, and thank you for your actions the other day.”
I chuckled to myself over the role reversal which suddenly occurred to me.
“Call me Jon.”
“Chet. I understand you want to scan my Dress uniform?”
“Yes please.”
He stood still while I scanned an image. Once I had it, I motioned him to a seat, and sat myself, while I made up the suit definition, removed his insignia and medals, and added my own. I stood again, and shifted into American Dress.
“It’s amazing how you do that.”
I chuckled, and he joined in.
“You should be using these too.”
“It’s been proposed already. Neither Admiral Jedburgh nor I would have suffered as badly as we did, had we been wearing them. Both Greer and Young have been pressing for them, but the wheels grind slowly at times. Having lost one Admiral, and almost lost two more, in a single engagement, and it being preventable, is making a powerful argument. Had the entire crew of the Yorktown been wearing them, the casualty list would have been a lot shorter. Anyway, what’s done is done, and we’ll be moving heaven and Dallas to get them now. Let’s be moving. It won’t hurt to be early, and will save our aides fussing over getting us there on time.”
“When should the ceremony be finished by, Chet?”
“Ten thirty at the latest.”
“Good.”
He chuckled, and set me off again.
I pinged Annabelle to assemble everyone in the Rec Room at eleven.
Chet rose, and we both limped out, Jane following.
Twelve
Alison was waiting with several Commanders, in a room off the meeting room the ceremony was to be held in. She was wearing Hunter Dress.
We settled into extremely comfortable chairs to wait. There was already the sounds of people moving in the next room.
“Sir,” she said to me, “we need to fix your salute.”
“What’s wrong with my salute?”
“What right with it, you mean.”
She had a point. I’d never been taught. She spent the next five minutes teaching me, and bullied me for the next ten in practicing. Chet and one of the Commanders found the whole thing funny. The other Commander obviously couldn’t figure out why an Admiral wouldn’t know how to do something as basic as saluting. Fortunately, it was using my right arm, as the left one still wouldn’t function too well above shoulder height. Another reason for getting a checkup while I was here.
“Now,” said Alison, when she thought I had it, “you’ll stand to the left of Admiral Jedburgh, and as he recites the citation, Commander Wantanbe will pass you the medal.”
“He’ll what?” I interrupted.
“He’ll pass you the medal.”
“Why?”
She sighed.
“Get a grip Jon, will you. You’re presenting the medals as the commander of the campaign.”
There was an immediate frown from the one Commander, and wider grins from Chet and the other.
“It’s so hard to get respectful help these days,” I said to Chet.
The two of them laughed, and the other frowned even more.
“Focus,” said Alison. “Commander Wantanbe will hand you the medal. When the recipient is at attention in front of you, you’ll hand them the medal, shake hands with your right hand, and then answer their salute. There will be no hugs.”
Chet lost it.
A lieutenant poked his head around a door and announced, “They’re almost ready for you sirs,” before vanishing again.
Chet made an effort to bring his face under control.
At precisely nine, we walked into the ceremony room. As soon as we were in place at the front, Admiral Jedburgh entered, and took his place at the speaker’s lectern. Alison jogged me with an elbow from the side that hid her from the officers facing us, and I stepped forward to stand on Jedburgh’s left. The frown Commander took his place next and slightly behind me, with a table of small boxes next to him. Alison was behind me, the only person in the room not in American Dress.
“We are gathered here,” said Jedburgh, “to honour those whose actions in the past few weeks have brought honour to themselves, and the American Space Force. As the commander of our forces in the Midgard system, and for the last few days of the war, Admiral Hunter will be making the awards.”
He read out a long list of names, all of whom had been awarded medals posthumously.
Then he started in on the living. Time and faces blurred, as I handed out medals, shook hands, and saluted. Some were promoted at the same time. Greer came before me, followed by Miriam. I could see she was making as much effort to keep her face neutral as I was, while she took several medals from me, shook my hand, and we saluted. The blur continued with higher ranks.
Finally, the flow of officers stopped. Four boxes remained.
“Vice Admiral Hunter,” said Admiral Jedburgh. “Front and center please.”
Oh hell. Not again. This isn’t right. I moved to stand in front of him, and braced to attention. He talked past me.
“This admittedly young man, came to
us as a pilot, and quickly showed our pilots how it’s done. We let him go, before we realized we had a relentless foe on our doorstep who refused to communicate. He went on to be the strategic and tactical mind behind a multi-sector battle fleet. And at the last, his quick thinking saved many of us from a sudden and unexpected death.” He could see me looking extremely uncomfortable with this, but he was the only person who could. “This man can’t see what his actions meant for us in the final battle. He gave an incredible sounding order, which was followed immediately by Commanders who trusted his judgement, influencing Captains who didn’t know him, and so successful was his order, that Yorktown and the ships with her, all survived certain destruction. He couldn’t see what we could, when his final missile salvo jumped to our side, and destroyed the last six Missile Cruisers, seconds before they fired towards an already badly damaged Lexington. He ordered the impossible, and it was done. He did the impossible, and the day was saved. Yet he’s so humble, he can’t see past putting Yorktown and her fleet in harm’s way, through his suggestion of tactics we adopted. Was it his fault we were in harm’s way?”
“HELL NO SIR!” said the entire room, as if they were on a parade ground.
“Where do we live?”
“IN HARMS WAY!”
“Was he responsible for victory that day?”
“SIR YES SIR!”
It took a huge effort at that point, for me to not cry where I stood, and I was dangerously close to collapsing, hyper aware of my bruises. All I could do was lock my suit, so I couldn’t move. A room full of officers were behaving like troops on a parade ground, and I just couldn’t wrap my head around it. My left temple began to throb. I upped my pain medication.
Finally, Admiral Jedburgh looked directly at me.
“Vice Admiral Hunter. You are awarded a silver star for the final battle of the Miami jump point, a Distinguished Service Cross for the missiles which destroyed the final six Missile Cruisers, and the Medal of Honour for leadership, tactical and strategic brilliance on the battlefield, while at risk of your own life. Normally a Medal of Honour is awarded by the President of the American Sector, but it was considered in this case to be more important the award be made now, in the aftermath of a war just won, while the recipient is still a member of the American Space Force. Congratulations Admiral Hunter.”
Commander Wantanbe passed him the medal boxes, I unlocked my suit arms, he passed them to me, we shook hands, and saluted each other. The room went crazy behind us.
“Attention to Orders,” bellowed Commander Wantanbe.
The room reluctantly quieted.
“There are two last items of business today. Vice Admiral Hunter, you are hereby promoted to the rank of Admiral, effective immediately, and retired from service with the American Space Force, effective at oh seven hundred tomorrow. Congratulations Admiral.”
I just about passed out on the spot. Only my locked suit held me up.
Commander Wantanbe passed him the last box, he gave it to me, and we shook and saluted once more.
“This ceremony is at an end. Dismissed. See you all at the celebration this afternoon.”
The mass of officers began to file out. I released the suit lock, and made an effort to stay on my feet.
Darius led me back into the room we’d come out of, and sat me down in a chair. He wore a huge grin on his face, as did Chet and Alison.
“You’re out of uniform Admiral,” he said, when we were all comfortable.
I shook my head, still having a hard time believing what had just happened. I opened each box, and removed the medals and insignia. I scanned the insignia, and added them to my American uniforms. Next I scanned each medal ribbon and added them to all my uniforms, reordering them from high to low merit. I added Hunter four star insignia to my Hunter epaulettes. Finally, I changed my American Dress to show the new additions.
“Congratulations sir,” said Chet. We shook.
Alison pulled me out of my chair and hugged me. The Admirals smiled. She finally released me, and I sank back into the chair. A lieutenant offered me a ginger ale, and then offered drinks to the Admirals and Alison after me. He even offered a drink to Jane, standing quietly out of the way. I drank without really tasting anything. Except for my bruises, I was numb.
“Jon,” said Darius, “you’re officially off duty now until the celebration at four. We’ll see you there.”
They left me sitting there with Alison. I told her what I wanted to do next, and pinged George to be ready.
Thirteen
Precisely at eleven, Alison, Jane, and I, me now in Hunter Dress uniform, strode into the Rec Room on Deck Two of BigMother.
The room went crazy, and I was hugged by all the women, and hand shaken by all the men.
When things started to calm down, I looked at Alison.
“You pinged Annabelle during the ceremony, didn’t you?”
“Of course,” she laughed.
I shook my head in wonder, and moved to stand against the main wall. Alison moved to my side. I nodded to George, and he also moved to my side.
“Attention to Orders,” bellowed Alison.
At least she tried to bellow, but she didn’t really have a parade ground voice.
The room came to attention.
“Dress uniforms please,” I said.
The room shifted as suits changed.
“As your name is called,” said Alison, “come front and center please.”
A mutter went around the room, and was quickly silenced.
“George is going to pulse you new uniforms,” I said. “Please update both your normal wear and Dress, and display your new Dress uniform. Hunter Security is instituting new ranks and insignia. Epaulettes will now indicate which service branch you belong to, by colour. Green is ground based ranks. Grey is fleet. Blue is fighter. Insignia are now standardized, although rank names will vary between branches. Some of these ranks vary from other services, and several are unique to Hunter. George will pulse you the full list after this ceremony. Regardless of the insignia you wear, you will please display your rank at all times on your PC profiles. At times, some of them will cause confusion outside of Hunter, but if you’re displaying them publically, this can hopefully be minimized.”
I watched as they all received their pulse, and changed to the new uniform.
I nodded to Alison.
“Specialist’s Aline Takai, Agatha Merritt, and Alana Henquist.”
Aline, Agatha, and Alana came forward, now wearing the insignia of a Corporal.
“There’s no rank of Specialist within Hunter Security,” I said, “hence the rank of Corporal, those who were a Specialist are now wearing. Corporal’s Takai, Merritt, and Henquist, you are promoted to the rank of Sergeant. Congratulation’s.”
They tried to shake hands formerly, but couldn’t stop themselves hugging me as well. George sent them new uniforms, and they shifted into them. The room applauded as they went back to their places.
“Sergeant Abigail Weaver,” said Alison.
She braced to attention in front of me.
“Sergeant Weaver, you are promoted to the rank of Senior Sergeant. Congratulations.”
We shook and hugged, and she returned to her place.
“Flight Officers Jones, Taylor and Williams.”
The three of them looked very surprised as they came forward, and braced to attention.
“Flight Officers, you are promoted to Flight Lieutenant. Congratulations. In addition, you are each assigned to fly brand new Excalibur Privateers, which should be delivered this evening. The ship names and AI’s, match your call signs.”
They looked elated as they shook my hand, changed their uniforms, and moved back. I could understand why. Once they left British Fleet to be mercenaries, they’d lost any expectation of promotion. It’s not that promotion didn’t happen in mercenary units, but small units didn’t have much need for rank. And they all wanted to fly Excalibur’s.
Alison opened her mouth to say the next
name, but I beat her to it.
“Lieutenant Alison Vogane,” I said.
Looking surprised, she braced in front of me, wearing green epaulettes.
“There’s no rank of Captain within Hunter Security. A captain is considered a title, and not a rank. Therefore Lieutenant, you are promoted to the rank of Major. Congratulations.”
George pulsed her the new uniforms as we shook, and then hugged. There was a stir around the room when she activated them.
“You will notice Alison and I both have red epaulettes. Red is my command colour, and will be worn only by myself, and my staff. Alison took on the role of my aide the other day, and is now confirmed in that role.” I looked at Annabelle. “This won’t preclude her team duties when required.”
She smiled and nodded. Alison had been the team’s administrator and medic, before joining me.
I nodded to Alison, and she stepped back to her place beside me.
“Lieutenant’s Peck,” she announced.
Amanda and Aleesha braced before me.
“Lieutenants, you are also promoted to Major. Congratulations.”
They both hugged me at the same time. They stepped back beaming.
“Flight Lieutenant Brown.”
He braced in front of me, and gave me a quivering salute.
“Flight Lieutenant, you are promoted to the rank of Squadron Leader. Congratulations. You are also assigned to a new Excalibur.”
He shook my hand, gave me another quivering salute, which I returned this time without the quiver, and returned to stand with his squadron mates.
“Eric Neilson.”
Eric was shocked to be called forward. He’d been standing towards the back with John Slice, quietly enjoying the show.
He came forward and braced.
“Eric. You dropped unexpectedly into a warzone, and were almost killed after you bailed out. Most civilians, even military trained ones, would be expected to seek a safe place for the duration, after such an experience. Not only did you not hide, you were there when you were needed, putting your life on the line with everyone else. No-one asked you, you didn’t volunteer, you weren’t drafted, or conscripted, but you were simply there. Such duty to friends and sector demand recognition. Eric Neilson, you are offered a commission in Hunter Security with the rank of Flight Lieutenant. Do you accept?”
Hunter Legacy 5 Hail the Hero Page 7
