Heads nodded around the table. “About time,” the Chief Gunner growled.
“That is, they could if we had both the repair teams and crews to run them,” Jones said, pouring cold water on the growing enthusiasm, “as it is, every slip in the yard either has a battleship in it, or one of our active duty warships recently returned from Easy Haven with a repair team on it. In short: while we could get them up and running if we had the people and facilities, right now we’re tapped.”
“That doesn’t sound good,” I said neutrally.
“Frankly, even the salvage teams seem problematic from a strictly Command Staff and planning view. Although,” he raised a hand when Spalding looked like he was about to explode, “as Engineering has explained, and is completely understandable, we would really rather have the new engineering recruits tearing into or tearing up ships that will never return to service as a training exercise than turning them lose on new or already active ships as their first assignment.”
“Like I said: training and cross-training are key for a well rounded Engineering Department. We keep the fleet running,” Spalding said with a shrug
“And we’re the ones that build and rebuild it. Don’t forget it,” Manager Baldwin said.
Spalding turned his mouth open, no doubt with a withering retort, but I’d had enough of their nonsense.
Fortunately for his career, Rick Jones beat me to the punch.
“None of which is here or there,” the Ensign said forcefully, “what is germane is that the ten warships will be waiting until we are able to get work parties and crews on them. Meanwhile, from 3rd Reclamation the 25th Amalgamated destroyed or captured 48 cruisers and 103 destroyers. Of those warships, except for a few tech samples from their most advanced warships we, the Multi-Sector Patrol Fleet, only retrieved those warships that were ultimately deemed repairable.”
“We decided to leave those with severe or potentially crippling damage behind in Easy Haven,” Spalding interjected. “Just the stuff that had no chance of jumping out there on its own merit and would be costly, time-wise, to repair.”
“Correct,” Jones cut back in, “in total, of the 48 Cruisers and 103 Destroyers, we only brought back with us some 20 Cruisers and 53 Destroyers.”
There were thumps on the table signaling approval for this number.
“By the Sweet Saint, it felt like more,” Captain Laurent swore.
“First time using an entirely new, untested system built by aliens, rigged by our engineers while facing two squadrons of the wall that could destroy everything we had left at that time put together,” Captain Hammer said dismissively. “I’m sure we’ll do better mentally next time.”
There were a few laughs around the table at that.
Lisa Steiner cleared her throat. “I’m not sure if it’s my place to be the one to suggest this or not, but it occurs to me we might not need to wait until we are able to service them here,” she said, clearing her throat and then added, “the Destroyers and maybe a few of the Cruisers, I mean.”
“Interesting,” I said. I could see where she was going with this but since it was her idea in the first place I decided to let her carry it to the finish line and see what she did with it. After all, if she was going to become my Chief of staff I was going to need to have a better feel for how she’d do as a more active part of these sorts of meetings. “Go on?” I pressed.
“Yes, Sir,” she said, and feeling my eyes and the attention of everyone else in the room settle on her the tips of her ears turned pink. She took a deep breath, “As I was saying, or about to: not only are there additional fleet repair facilities in Tracto, there are additional factories and repair slips outside of MSP control—and not only in Tracto but also at Omicron and throughout the entire Border Alliance are the facilities and the warm bodies to crew those warships. I mean, if getting those lighter warships into service is a priority,” she finished in a rush.
There was a pregnant silence, and both of my ship captains looked at each other while my engineering teams looked like they’d just tasted something sour.
“An interesting suggestion, Lieutenant,” I told the petite former com-tech and, even though I’d been waiting for her to say it, I still had to suppress the sudden urge to keep everything for myself. Forcing down the childish urge to declare ‘Mine mine, it's all mine and I won’t share!’ I looked around the room and asked, “Any comments on Miss Steiner’s bold proposal?”
Captain Laurent finally took the bull by the horns. “While it pains me to see any of our warships go, it would improve relations with our allies,” he finally muttered, “and it’s the gods' honest truth that we can’t crew them ourselves...at least not right now.”
“Now if that isn’t the most unappealing reason the Sweet Saint gave a man for giving away his own warships like they were party favors...that has to take the cake!” Spalding cried.
“Please, let’s remember that we would never have won the first battle, let alone the third against the Reclamation Fleet, if it weren’t for our…steadfast allies,” Hammer almost choked on ‘steadfast,’ but for the rest of it she seemed impassioned as she glowered at the Chief Engineer. “And I don’t think it shows a very professional demeanor for us to act so uncharitably and entitled towards them that stood by us when we fought the enemy. I’m not talking about the Sector Guard that turned on us, or Praxis that ran and hid, but those ones that stood with us to save this Sector. Even if we don’t agree to give them anything but our thanks, it’s talk like this…” she glared at the old Engineer, “that’s simply unacceptable.”
“Now then,” Spalding said hastily, “I didn’t say I was against replacing losses or helpin' a fellow out with an extra warship here or there,” he backtracked as rapidly as he could. “I just don’t want us so eager to help them out that we forget all about us and give away the whole blasted store is all.”
Chief Lesner snorted. Loudly.
“Well it is, I tell you! I’ve seen it happen before during the Great Bust of 39, after the pirate base raid, not to mention when we traded those droid motherships over to the droids back before the Reclamation Campaign. And let me tell you-” Spalding declared throwing his hands wide.
“I hardly think we need to-” started Hammer.
“Hey now, Spalding, you were the one who traded battleships for motherships with those Droids so I don’t want to hear any more about that little transaction,” I said firmly. “And as for the Great Bust of Whatever, I honestly couldn’t care. None of that has any bearing on what we do going forward. Now I’m not entirely sure I like the idea of handing over any Destroyers—much less Cruisers—to anyone, even our allies,” I hesitated, “you know what? Make it that I definitely don’t like it. But as both Steiner and Hammer, not to mention Laurent, have all pointed out: we owe them. I’ll repeat that. We. Owe. Them. And I’m not someone who willingly stays in anyone’s debt.”
“Well isn’t this just wonderful?” Spalding said, chewing furiously on his lower lip. “We’ll probably have to give up those XR-422’s on account of they’re the only ones those Sundered clowns can fit into without retrofitting—and don’t even get me started on what we’ll have to fork over to the droids!”
“And as long as we’re handing out warships,” I continued doggedly in the face of Spalding’s belligerent bellyaching, “we might as well not be stingy about it.”
“I say we only hand over the ones we don’t want to fix up ourselves!” Spalding declared, folding his arms across his chest. “Those ones that need a refit or with repair lists a mile long.”
“I don’t want to hand our allies a bunch of lemons,” I said sternly and then added, “not that I’ve made any final decision yet.” Although now that the subject had been brought up in front of my command team, I was leaning that way. People had died in a war I dragged them into—a war that many of them would not have participated in at all if I hadn’t personally requested their support. The more I thought about it, the only conclusion I could come to was the
very least I could do was replace their ship losses and then some.
To be fair, it’s not like I hadn’t thought about it before. But that was always back when I didn’t know if the jump would be successful, or exactly how many hulls we would have, or if we would even have to leave Easy Haven at all. Then afterwards I’d been buried under paperwork…
Well, all of that was nothing more than a big steaming pile of excuses.
“Alright then,” Leonora Hammer said, “let’s take a few moments to look through what we’ve got available.”
“Since most Sundered’s losses were Corvettes and all we have are Destroyers, we’re going to have to replace them with those. But for the droids...” there was a pregnant pause.
“Just give them whatever’s fair,” Spalding grunted, muttering something under his breath that sounded like ‘automated idjits’ or something like that.
“I’m not sure that’s going to be a…popular move, Commander,” Ensign Jones said tactfully.
“The crew is just as liable to riot as they are to understand us handing warships over to the machine menace,” the Chief Gunner said dourly.
“You saying they didn’t pull their weight with those droid marines and Penetrator-class landers, Chief Gunner?” Spalding demanded, glaring at the Chief.
“I said the crew might not stand for it, not that I thought the blasted droids hadn’t fought, Commander,” the Warrant said back angrily.
“Well it sure sounded like it, and as for the crew you won’t have any trouble from Engineering or I’ll put them in the hurt locker and spin them around so hard they’ll be begging for mercy and have no time for anti-droid conspiracies,” Spalding declared flatly. “I have my people under control—of course I can’t speak for Gunnery.”
“Anything an engineer can do, a gunner can do twice as fast,” Lesner shot back.
“You mean half as good, and that's when they don’t just break it outright. ‘Oh, you wanted that pump line unhooked, sir,’ well don’t worry, we might have sheered it—and the coupling it attaches to—straight off the gun mount but at least it’s clear of the machine, right? Bunch of ham-handed grease monkeys,” Spalding snorted.
“Clear of the machine?! Clearly you haven’t worked a day on the deck in your life if you’re calling our babies ‘machines’,” the Chief shot back. “Probably why you can’t recognize it when a genuine machine threat gets our lads stirred up. You’re too busy trying to defrag your hand scanner to notice the lower decks are starting to get up in arms about the whole droid business.”
“There’s not a man what served with the Admiral that would turn against him,” Spalding declared stoutly.
“Oh? And who said they’d actually served with him? I’m talking about all those new sprouts from the Border Worlds. They’re here in entire job lots thanks to our recruiting drive, and the old hands are starting to get light on the ground,” said the Chief, pounding the table. “I’m tellin' you: something needs to be done and handing warships over to the droids might be the right thing to do for our allies but if it’s not handled right it’s the wrong thing to do for this Fleet.”
“What’s this about crew?” I asked, leaning forward intently. The last time there had been rumbling I’d almost been killed when the Tracto-an’s turned. The last thing I needed was trouble with the civilized half of our fleet, “I’ve had reports that some of our people have had trouble with us dealing with our droid reinforcements, but I was told it was under control?”
“Sir,” Lesner said, his jaw bunching as he looked at me, “it is under control. The boys and girls might not like the droids, but as long as they’re dying out there instead of us they can deal with an Admiral smart enough to outmaneuver the machines. But handing over warships, even if the droids have earned it, might be a road too far for some people. I just don’t know.”
“Some people?” I asked, my ears perking up. ‘Some people’ sounded to this particularly persecuted royal like code for 'ring leaders,' “give me names.”
“Just some of our more vocal anti-machinist spacers. I’ve got my deck chiefs and their petty officers sitting on them but it’s not like being anti-machine is a crime,” Chief Gunner shrugged.
I drummed my fingers on the table, sensing from his slightly evasive answer that I probably wouldn’t be able to find the identities of these agitators from Lesner without crossing the Gun Chief’s bottom line. Which, while not something I was against in principle, wasn’t something I was eager to do without more than just ‘rumors’ and ‘anti-machinist rhetoric.'
Still, it never hurt to be overly cautious.
“Well I’m certainly not going to let a few angry deck hands dictate Fleet policy to me,” I said flatly, “that said, there’s no need to tell the lower decks exactly where everything is going and deliberately agitate the situation ourselves. Since both the Omicron and the Sundered will need more warships shipped out there under our new initiative, we’ll just say we’re sending warships to them...and possibly a few of our other Border Allies. That should quiet the rumors, and if it doesn’t we’ll know we have a leak or deliberate agitators and we'll be ready to take the appropriate steps.”
“That might work,” Lesner allowed, “until they see the droids floating around in their new warships.”
“Which we can say they captured themselves and, being the grasping machines that they are, never turned over to our control, suspecting us of exactly what our lower decks desire: that we wouldn’t give them so much as a single ship. I don’t know, we can make up a party line,” I shrugged.
“And if they show up exact ship and IFF matches and demand answers?” Captain Hammer asked.
My eyes slitted and I could feel my face turn hard. “I am not in the habit of caving to demands,” I said flatly and then smiled, deliberately relaxing my face. “But your concerns are noted and, just to be on the safe side, I’ll be ordering increased ship patrols and we’ll double the guard on all critical ship areas. Just to be safe. As you’ve all noted, even if this is nothing more than a little agitation we’ve lost far too many of our original hands and replaced them with new blood. I’d like to think that the majority of those who’ve only been with us through this last campaign will side with us if anything goes down, but with our sudden plethora of battleships we’re going to need to increase our recruiting drive massively. That means even more untested hands. This move will at least keep all these greenhorns from doing something stupid that might damage their own ships.”
“Placing a rotating guard on all critical systems will be a large manpower drain on our Lancers, Sir,” pointed out Laurent.
“My heart bleeds for our soon-to-be-sleep-deprived Tracto-ans,” I said uncaringly. Yes, they’d proven willing to fight for me in the Reclamation Campaign, but that still didn’t excuse their standing by while Nikomedes tried to take off my head. A little suffering on their end in order to ensure I slept better was a price I was willing for them to pay. That said I couldn’t seem too heartless or those barbaric lunk heads might think I didn’t like them anymore.
Hmmm. As I took a moment to think more deeply about it, an idea occurred to me.
“Since we’ve already integrated a number of Marines into our ranks and I’ve been hearing good things about these Cold Space Commandos or whatever they’re called from Akantha, I think we’ll help lighten the load by mixing one team of Lancers with one of Marines or Commandos,” I said.
“I’ll draw up the orders and see they’re ready for your signature,” Ensign Jones nodded.
“Thank you, but no. I think I’ll have Lieutenant Steiner prepare the orders for my signature. I have a more important task for you. We’ll speak after the meeting,” I informed the Ensign.
“Of course, Sir,” said Steiner while Jones nodded.
“Alright, well, if there’s nothing else? I think we’ll break for lunch,” I declared. The current state of our repair efforts and nebulous worries about anti-machinst agitators was more than enough for the moment.
> “Aye aye, Admiral,” said Spalding, happily getting up.
There were murmurs of agreement around the table as the other officers and senior crew stood up and stretched.
“Excellent,” I said.
It was definitely past time I spoke with my security team. I hoped winning the battle against the Imperials hadn’t made me far too complacent, and that if it had there was still time to rectify the situation.
The Chief was concerned, and nothing more than that—but I was a Montagne. We had a nose for this sort of thing and my instincts were telling me to head these agitators off at the pass before they had the chance to become something bigger.
I’d come too far to lose my Fleet to a handful of angry agitators. Sure, it might be nothing, but that was something I would make sure of before turning my attentions elsewhere.
Chapter 24: Man Not Machine
“Why won’t the Admiral just see reason?” demanded a senior petty officer, a new import from the Border Alliance, as we’re all the chief’s in this impromptu little meeting in the bowels of one of Environmental’s down checked air processing tanks, “there’s no dealing with their kind!”
“The monkey men are bad enough if you ask me but at least they’re flesh and blood. If you cut them they don’t bleed red—just black oil,” spat a junior Petty Officer that had to be almost sixty years old.
“Maybe he’s lost his nerve,” suggested a big hulking brute of a senior chief from the Gun Deck.
Several heads nodded.
“I disagree,” Malcolm Sagittarius interjected firmly, “clearly the man’s got balls of solid duralloy when it comes to combat. It’s just that the Vice Admiral’s all but blind when it comes to the metal heads. Remember when the entire Sector Fleet was barreling down on us back at Easy Haven. He stood and he held until we jumped out even placing the Flagship between the rest of us and their turbo-lasers, those are not the actions of a coward. Only someone dangerously misguided when it comes to the machines.”
Admiral's Nemesis (A Spineward Sectors Novel: Book 11) Page 17
