****
“Man, it’s starting to feel like we’re never getting off this ship,” the tank gunner said to his loader as they entered the crowded mess.
“I’ll say.” The loader pulled up a seat at a table surrounded by other ground troops. “The more time I spend getting cross-trained on the anti-ship missile battery, the more I start to wonder if this isn’t some desperate recruitment drive for the navy.”
Giving a non-committal grunt as answer, the gunner grabbed a chair from a nearby table and started to pull it over when suddenly it froze in place. He looked back to see a shuttle pilot had arrested the chair’s motion by clamping his boot down on the frame.
“That’s taken,” the shuttle pilot said firmly.
The gunner eyed up the smaller man for a moment then made a show of leaning over the chair, waving his hand through the empty space above the seat.
“That’s funny since I don’t see anyone, so my best guess is your friend ain’t here, and there’s not enough chairs for people who ain’t here.”
The shuttle pilot didn’t relent.
“The owner of that chair,” he said firmly, “is Flight Sergeant Andrew Tarek, and we save a seat for him because he’s in the brig.”
“Pretty sure we don’t,” the gunner responded coldly, waving away his loader who was starting to say something. “But I tell you what, I’ll try to take it, and you see if you can stop me.”
The gunner braced to give the chair a fierce pull, but in that same moment, a hand landed on his shoulder. The tanker had been in enough bar scraps to know that turning to face the owner of that hand usually meant putting your jaw right into their first swing.
Intending to get in the first shot, he led his turn with the knuckles of his right fist. This was no half-drunk haymaker either, it was the fast and direct boxer’s strike of someone who had their hand-to-hand cert.
For all that, the owner of the hand on his shoulder had flowed out of its trajectory like so much water, moving the bare minimum distance to avoid the impact. The gunner stood frozen, his fist still outstretched as the hair of his intended victim settled back into place. It wasn’t the evasion that left him stunned, but the recognition of whom he’d just attacked. Lieutenant Kyra Rease. The Luperca.
All eyes were on him, including the Lieutenant’s, and hers were as cold as the void outside.
“His name is Andrew Tarek, and he’s in the brig because he broke ranks and regs to pull thirty percent of the men in this room out of the last posting. His name is Andrew Tarek…” With a snap of her boot she kicked the chair out of the gunner’s hand and sent is sliding back into place. “…and we save a seat for him.”
At this moment, the supervising officer for the mess finally broke through the crowd.
“Alright that’s enough bad behaviour for now. I appreciate you discharging the situation, Lieutenant, but you shouldn’t be encouraging this. The quarter deck doesn’t want any special privileges for someone who committed insubordination, so I think we can both say we approve of what Tarek did, but not the way he did it.”
“That’s the difference between you and me,” Rease said, turning her eyes to meet the young officer’s. “I know sometimes there’s only one way to do a thing. Let this one slide, Warrant Officer, or I will make it so much bigger than it is right now.”
“You know I can’t do that, Lieutenant. You shouldn’t even be in the enlisted mess, and we both have a responsibility to…”
Rease was already turning back to face the onlookers which happened to be everyone who’d been in the mess as well as anyone close enough to get to it when their colleagues pinged them.
“His name is Andrew Tarek,” she called out, her voice drowning out the supervising officer’s, “and we save a seat for him.” She paused then raised her voice even louder. “Let me hear you all say it, his name is Andrew Tarek—”
“—and we save a seat for him!” The enlisted called back.
“On your feet!” Rease demanded of them, now in a parade shout. “His name is Andrew
Tarek—”
The soldiers stood, turning to face her in various approximations of the attention stance, they called back even louder “—and we save a seat for him!”
“He’s not here. Who will give their space at the table for him?”
“I will!”
“When he returns, who will buy his first drink?”
“I will!”
Rease let her voice drop to just enough for them to notice the change. “He saved hundreds among us, who would face death to save him?”
Some might have thought the last a bit extreme, but by now they were all too caught up in the momentum of the group, no one wanted to be the odd one out so they responded as one.
“I will!”
The Luperca waited several moments until the quiet had settled heavily on the room.
“His name is Andrew Tarek,” she said in a normal voice. “And we save a seat for him.”
And no one argued the point, not even the SO. Rease gave him a pat on the shoulder as she left the room.
****
“Lieutenant Smart,” the CAG said as Kelly entered his office. “Good to see you up and about.”
“Thank you, sir,” she replied as she came to stand at attention before his desk.
“Be seated, make your request.”
As she took the guest chair, Jenson gave her his full attention, locking his computer and pointedly pushing the keyboard away. She’d made jokes about this man, but suddenly finding herself his soul focus was frightening. His gaze was intense, calculating, and utterly dispassionate. Kelly felt her mouth go dry, her body taking this moment to call to her attention every half-healed injury and the tightness she still felt in her chest when she tried to breathe too deeply.
He already knew what she was going to ask – it was like he’d pried open her mind, checked the variables, and done the math. What she was about to ask was a betrayal of trust to begin with, and she’d made it worse by coming straight to him instead of airing her grievance with her squadron leader. He said nothing, but somehow Kelly read the warning: Once these words are out of your mouth, Lieutenant, you can never take them back.
Kelly licked her lips. “I want to transfer to another squadron, ideally on another ship.”
His face registered no change. “Because of what happened during Operation Catchphrase?”
“No sir, because of what didn’t happen. If I may be candid?”
Jenson did not answer right away, his eyes searched hers as more equations took place.
“Candid but respectful, Lieutenant,” he said finally. “If you find yourself making anything that could be interpreted as an accusation against a superior officer, I will be obligated to treat it as such. Whatever the outcome, investigations usually stain all parties involved. Especially if they are against superior officers who carry political connections.”
“Thank you, sir.” In her head Kelly quickly rearranged the laundry list of complaints she had into something more diplomatic. “Acknowledging that it is not my place to question the individual leading style of my commander, I am aware of certain differences between the combat style of the 109th and that of other squadrons.”
“Go on.”
“I strongly feel I would be of more use to the Constellation in a less… conservative unit.”
The CAG’s penetrating gaze did not waver. “Are you proud of the actions that led to the crippling of your spacecraft, Lieutenant?”
That was almost a disabling blow, but it was nothing Kelly hadn’t hit herself with a hundred times. “No sir, but if I may qualify?”
He gestured for her to continue, perhaps something approaching a smile touching the corners of his eyes.
“I didn’t know what I was doing, and I acted out of desperation. In that moment, I would have paid any cost to save the CNS Tartarus and the souls aboard, but I lacked the training, experience and direction to…” Kelly fumbled to a halt searching for a word to
convey a tumult of feelings and frustration.
“To make a difference?”
“Yes sir.”
The CAG stood, and Kelly immediately followed suit.
“Lieutenant, I’m going to turn this around and be candid with you. By virtue of your rank and position, it is not necessary for you to take anything I say further. Do you understand?”
“Yes sir, I will be discreet.”
“I have in my charge a particular squadron who lack any warrior instinct. They did not come here to kill Maulers or win battles, they came here be very, very careful.
“Normally a squadron that exhibited this kind of behaviour would be dispersed into more aggressive units or filed into logistics. However, this squadron is led by a very well connected member of the Peerage whose whims carry more weight than they ought to for his rank and experience.
“As it stands, a true soldier is starting to emerge amongst what is quickly becoming the least successful squadron in the Constellation. It is my hope that she will bring out the fighting spirit in her colleagues before many more lives are lost. Do you understand what I’m talking about Lieutenant?”
Kelly bit back her anger at his self-serving politics. “Yes sir.”
“This is an entirely unreasonable request for me to make of you,” the CAG said. “Fortunately, once again by virtue of your rank and position, I do not need to request anything. For your benefit, I will forget that you came here today.”
“Yes sir.”
“However, I’m also going to roster you with Lieutenant Collins from Cold Sabre Squadron for a number of one-on-one training sessions surrounding aggressive combat manoeuvres. Collins is one of the best attack pilots in the battlegroup.” This time there was definitely a smile in the CAG’s eyes. “It is my hope that he will also teach you the correct way to engage capital vessels.”
****
Lieutenant Rease did not feel particularly intimidated by her own Deep Shit Committee, no matter how hard the Captain or Lieutenant Commander Richter glared down at her. Despite that fact that, between them and Acting Major Yelsin, they could bring significant executive power to bear, the reality was only the latter was in her branch of the armed forces, and it would be considered terribly bad form for two Navy officers to seriously prosecute anyone from the Army.
Plus, Rease knew she was right.
“So what exactly were you doing in the enlisted mess, Lieutenant Rease?” Lieutenant Commander Richter finally asked.
As commander of the ship’s small marine complement, he was nearest to Rease’s own branch and, not coincidentally, also responsible for the ship’s Supervising Officers.
“Preventing a fight, sir,” Rease said, standing at what she called ‘easy attention’. Exactly formal enough to prevent any sort of rebuke, but without any trace of discomfort or overstressing of the spine and shoulders.
“And how did you happen to know one was about to occur, at that very moment?”
“Because I have spent enough time among army troopers in confined spaces that I can sense an issue bubbling beneath the surface. Likewise, I can guess when and where the issue is going to crack that surface in spectacular fashion.”
Richter’s hard brow rose sceptically. “And how exactly do you imagine you defused the situation?”
“I prevented a Supervising Officer from bringing a mess full of Army Regulars down on his head.”
“Is there a reason you doubted the SO’s ability to handle the situation; especially when he would have done so according to the Captain’s policy regarding the veneration of an insubordinate officer?”
“I know an indefensible position when I see one. If he had attempted to maintain ship policy with the enlisted, as he did with me, he would have come out of that room on a stretcher.”
Richter raised his voice warningly. “Unlikely. Anyone who raised a finger against him would find themselves joining the storied Flight Sergeant Tarek in detention.”
If the marine was hoping to intimidate Rease he did not succeed; easy attention prevailed.
“Sir, you would not have been arresting a single person for striking an officer, you would have been deploying your marine contingent to supress a riot or mutiny. The disruption to this ship would have been far greater than one unused chair in the enlisted mess.”
“I don’t recall asking your opinion!” Richter snapped in the tone and volume marines otherwise reserved for aggressive room breaches.
“Commander Richter, Major Yelsin,” the Captain’s voice was quiet, but his confidence brooked no argument. “Thank you for your time. You’re dismissed.”
“Sir…” Richter looked like he was going to protest, but one sharp look from the Captain and he finished by simply repeating, “Sir.”
The marine and the Acting Major left, leaving only Rease and the Captain. The ship’s CO allowed the silence to drag out far beyond what was comfortable before finally speaking.
“Lieutenant, perhaps it is not clear to you that Tarek’s incarceration was for his personal development and safety. It is not out of a particular sense of insult we take towards people with initiative.”
There was no question, so Rease did not say anything. It was one thing to push her luck with the marine detachment commander, quite another to disrespect the man who, in the weird world of the Navy, was considered to be the ship.
“Lieutenant Commander Richter has spent a long time telling me that the dissent among the enlisted was within controllable levels. Understandably, his assessment appears to overlook the extraordinary circumstance of having almost a thousand embarked troops aboard.
“This means the radical action you took in discharging the situation represents a thoughtful and considered approach to a dangerous situation, rather than a wilful act of insubordination.”
The Lieutenant inclined her head.
“Unfortunately, this revelation puts me in the position of having to release the young Flight Sergeant into an environment that will give him entirely the wrong ideas. I am taking a significant risk with his life in order to preserve discipline on this ship.”
“Yes Captain,” Rease said, wondering why ‘the ship’ felt the need to explain himself to her. Then out of a sudden flash of boldness she added, “May I offer a perspective from one of the extraordinary number of embarked ground troops?”
He did not answer right away. As before he allowed the gap to grow past what was polite, or even reasonable before he finally said, “You may.”
Silence is his weapon, the Lieutenant realised, he had simultaneously invited her to speak and made it quite clear that she shouldn’t have asked in the first place.
But she was committed, so she bulled ahead. “You can’t stop Tarek from being a hero, but heroes are a powerful symbol for the rank and file. Let him be what he is and keep the focus on what he did, so it doesn’t rest on the people who told him not to do it.”
“I thought along similar lines,” the Captain paused and again allowed the seconds to drag by to disquieting length. “Do you believe that Flight Sergeant Tarek was correct to disobey orders?”
This was a question Rease had been considering since she left Box Grid. It was not enough to know he was morally correct. She knew if push came to shove he would have to be legally correct. She wasn’t a fan of the tangled world of military law, but she had what some might call ‘practical experience’ with it and had learnt to navigate it in the way that divers navigate reef sharks: through the gaps.
“I believe the probable loss of the heavy lifter and her crew was an acceptable risk to bring back a significant volume of men and machinery, irrespective of who the pilot was. I won’t try to cite specific regulations because they will be different between Navy and Army…” This neatly covered the fact she didn’t know specifics in either case. “…but there are guidelines surrounding risk and the recovery of equipment and personnel which can only be overridden by a Major or higher.
“By refusing to commit to the rescue he had been previously order
ed to carry out, the lifter commander went beyond his authority. If the craft officer was acting in dereliction of duty, then Flight Sergeant Tarek was correct not to follow him.”
“An interesting view,” said the Captain. “However, you realise it represents a significant allegation against Lieutenant Walters?”
“I do, Captain. And I’m prepared to lodge it as such, but as I come from a service branch that lacks the decorum of the Navy, I generally avoid posting formal charges.”
It was a diplomatic way of pointing out that the ground forces didn’t travel around in ships heavy with paperwork and senior officers and, therefore, had to solve disputes ‘in the field’ and sometimes ‘in the old way’.
“Very well, I think we’re done here. Tarek will be released tomorrow morning on probation for his good and faithful service during a special operation to Box Grid. Officially any celebration of a prisoner’s release is, of course, banned. Unofficially there are empty supply rooms in Block F on Deck 2 and the Block Officer is a man with reason to welcome the Flight Sergeant’s release.
“I am content not to correct this oversight provided any celebration is responsible and, to put it in your terms, keeps the focus on what he did so it doesn’t rest on the people who told him not to do it.”
Rease worked hard to keep the smile off her face. “Thank you, Captain.”
“However, I maintain significant concerns about the future of the man in question. My hope is that, on this ship, Tarek has a few friends willing to keep him from going out in a blaze of glory as a result of his new-found adoration.”
Rease met his eye. “He has at least one, sir.”
“Then carry on, Lieutenant.”
****
Constellation Carrier CNS Arcadia
Battlegroup Olympian
Grimball Local Sector, Bryson System
23 April 2315
The following morning, Tarek was up early, continuing to explore his powers and work on Draft 7.5. His incarceration was a pretty low energy experience, so he’d found getting up early and going to bed late had become a natural rhythm.
Threshold of Victory Page 14
