by Chris Hechtl
“That … could add a bit to your claim that it is not a legitimate order,” Admiral Draken said slowly as he considered the situation from all angles.
“Of course it does!” the human admiral said with a wave of his hand. “We'll sell it as we see fit. The navy will fall in line. We'll shake the patron trees until they do.”
Admiral Draken grimaced. “Telling them to take it raw could spark additional problems.”
“Then we'll land on them too.”
“I'm talking about a potential civil war within our own navy. We've got our people in some key positions, but they can't be everywhere. Some are sharpening their own knives …”
Omar smiled darkly. “All the more reason to proceed by setting an example. A nasty one to make them all think twice before they jump into this.”
@
Admiral Draken swiveled his neck from side to side, then cracked it. He sat in his office, considering the future and if he had one—more importantly, if Omar had one. It was up to him to decide if he wanted to follow Admiral Irons orders or take Childress down, no matter what he had said to Omar. Undoubtedly, he'd go down one way or another in the aftermath, once the dust cleared.
He closed his eyes as he gamed the scenario out. He might get a year or so, maybe two. The more they were tied to the ansible and B-102c star system, the less likely he would be able to hang onto power. Eventually, Irons would want to put his own people in place to command things. That was one reason he'd gone along with Omar in the first place. But he'd thought they'd skirt the rules, draw things out. The ansible had changed things however.
And then there was Childress’ shipyards and Omar's behind-the-scenes supporters. They might appreciate him taking down Omar if it let them regroup, but not likely. Reba wouldn't like it at all, no matter how pragmatic she was about the situation. Eventually she'd come for his head. He shivered. Besides, Omar and some of the retired officers had stuff on him. Nothing really nuclear but enough to make him very uncomfortable and force him to resign.
No, he was not happy about staying the course, but it seemed the only path ahead for him. He inhaled and then exhaled slowly as that decision was made and then passed on the order to JAG, effectively countersigning Omar's bid for survival. He wasn't certain which way the elf would jump, but he was certain he'd find out soon enough.
@
Admiral Shren was not happy to be put in the unenviable position he was in. He could feel the strain to do the right thing, but there were countervailing issues to be considered. He owed his position to Omar Childress for instance. Omar wasn't one of his patrons. Admiral Open Eyes had been one of them, but the retired T'clock admiral was also a supporter of Childress. Childress had also sat on two of his promotion boards and was using that as additional leverage. “There is going to be hell to pay over this,” the elf murmured as he read the full orders issued by Admiral Irons. They were legitimate he knew; they had his ID tag and everything. The only thing that was irregular was the means by which they were transferred to the navy.
Which might be Omar's one and only leg to stand on he knew as he issued orders to proceed with the investigation. He didn't like setting an example with Admiral Logan, but he had to start somewhere.
@
Rear Admiral Melvin Zekowitz had heard the broadcast like everyone else, but nothing had come of it. He'd gone home and gone to bed, wondering what was going to happen.
In the morning after his first cup of coffee, workout, and shower, curiosity got the better of him and he used his implants to get a download from the media while he made his breakfast.
As he slathered butter on an English muffin, he paused as he got the full story of the arrival of Ilmarinen and the broadcast. His nerveless fingers dropped the butter knife as he stared in total shock at what had just occurred. The entire star system was up in arms, and Childress had not been relieved or had resigned. It was worse than he'd thought. If Childress had been willing to step down, he would have done so. And if Draken had been willing to relieve him, he'd be gone. No, this was far, far worse than he'd expected.
He groaned softly to himself, head in his hands. “Damn it, that just made things worse. Irons you stupid …,” he stopped himself with a sigh and shook his head.
Things just went from bad to worse he knew. Potentially very worse for him personally if Childress went headhunting. Considering the man's position and how vindictive the son of a bitch was, that was a very real and distinct possibility. The best thing for him to do was to keep his mouth shut and head down he knew. Get into a hole and stay there as he'd warned Horatio to do from day one.
He considered resigning to save his own ass but refused. Instead, he decided to stay the course; he could always do so later or even retire if he was given the option. Hopefully, it would all blow over, though he didn't have much faith in that. If it didn't and if he was still around, well, maybe he could do some quiet work to help if he was willing to stick his neck out he thought.
“And if wishes were fishes …,” he muttered to himself as he got ready for his day at the academy. “This is going to suck,” he drawled, knowing everyone was going to be after him for answers he couldn't give because he either didn't have them or didn't want to answer them.
@
“Great. Now he's done it,” Admiral Toronto muttered as he received fresh orders from Central Command. He was to proceed with the arrest and follow it up with a full investigation. It seemed that Admiral Childress wasn't going anywhere and was beyond pissed. Not only that, but he was out for blood and Horatio was squarely in his cross-hairs.
“Better you than me I suppose Admiral Logan,” he said dryly as he began to issue the orders. Commander Dauplin had made the initial arrest, but Commander Lockyear was already pressuring him to be in on the investigation. She had Dauplin by time in grade.
He decided to get rid of the entire kit and caboodle all at once. Ilmarinen was an active crime scene, and she needed to go to the inner system anyway. They might as well all do it aboard her. Besides, his investigation teams had concluded there were no signs of Xenos or nanites infection on board.
He sat down at his desk in his room, making the chair squeak under his primate weight as he began to peck at the keyboard to issue the orders that were required.
@
Ilmarinen's crew were dismayed to find their ship boarded by a joint NCIS, ONI, and JAG investigation team from the orbital fortresses. Along for the ride, were a couple ships' police to thicken things up in the brig.
The NCIS team was led by Special Agent George Ahuja, a speckled Indian Neodog. He was joined by human Commander Valentine Lockyear, the command fortress's resident JAG. Both of them had been detached to handle the investigation as had Commander Sargento Dauplin, the JAG who had made the initial arrest.
“What a snake pit we're in,” Agent Ahuja murmured. His position had given him a long history and working relationship with Valentine.
Valentine for her part grunted.
“How do you want to play this?” he finally asked. He wasn't even certain of how the arrest had been played. His people would most likely need to read the admiral his rights all over again just to be sure.
“By the book. We do everything by the book. Follow protocol, secure the computer records, and then do the interviews. The ship is an active crime scene. Keep everything on the up and up—kid gloves.”
“Lovely,” the Neodog replied dryly.
“Hey, you and I didn't ask for this, but we're stuck with it.”
“Yeah, I know, caught in the middle.”
“This isn't our first witch hunt. The difference is, this is for much higher stakes. But we won't see anything happen for years most likely, if at all.”
The Neodog nodded glumly. He'd been a naive pup a long time ago, and he'd interfered in a witch hunt. It was why he'd been assigned to the back of beyond. This case might be his ticket home. At the least, it was time away from the command fortress at the jump po
int.
“I'm hoping not at all personally. I don't want to get caught up in the middle.”
“We're already there. But hopefully both sides will see us doing our jobs as professionals and leave us alone,” Valentine replied as they moved through the corridors of the ship behind the temporary XO to their assigned quarters. That was one good thing about the ship running on a skeleton crew; there was plenty of space to go around. She didn't even get an argument about them having office space and a place to do interviews.
They were met in their assigned office by Captain Clayton and the Neogorilla master-at-arms. “I'm not thrilled about any of this. How are you going to play it?” he asked bluntly.
“As professionals, sir,” the commander replied as she slowly put her gear down. She saw the Neodog put his own gear on a desk across from hers. “We'll try to make this as painless as possible for you and your crew. The sooner we get through this, the better for all concerned. As long as they all cooperate and don't play games, we'll play nice and get out of your hair, sir.”
“Good. I'll pass the word,” the captain said quietly.
“We'll need access to your ship's computers, log, all your files really,” the NCIS agent said, indicating a Veraxin computer tech with him and then Agent Tau Sito.
The captain glanced at the Veraxin and Asian agent and then gave a short choppy nod to their boss. “Okay. I'll arrange it with the acting XO.”
“We'll need to set up an interview schedule. I've got a short list, but obviously, this came at us cold.”
“Start with me, now,” the captain replied. He was nervous and wanted to get it over with. Hearing their questions would also give him a sense of the direction of the investigation.
Agent Ahuja noted all of that with his understanding of human body language, sense of smell, keen eyes and ears, and his training. He nodded once. “Okay, that works.”
“We need to keep the prisoner in the brig though.” The group turned their polite attention to the JAG. “We can sweep his quarters for evidence since he won't need them anymore and then go from there,” Valentine said, directing her order to Agent Ahuja and the Neogorilla master-at-arms at the door.
The captain wanted to object; an officer under arrest was normally confined to quarters, not the brig. But he wasn't going to stick his neck out for Horatio after what the other man had opened him up to. “Do it,” the captain replied with a grimace and nod to the ship's top cop.
“Aye aye, sir,” the Neogorilla said as he departed.
“Okay, so, where do we begin?” the captain asked. “I've been in a few investigations but nothing like this.”
Valentine smiled politely. “Well, sir, I understand the compartment next door is going to be our interview space.” She indicated the wardroom. The captain didn't protest. “Let's just let the techs set up the recording equipment and then we'll go from there, shall we?” Valentine replied soothingly.
“Recording equipment?” the captain asked carefully.
“Everything is going to be according to protocol, including interviews. We're not leaving any I's undotted, no T's uncrossed.”
“I see,” the captain replied slowly. He nodded, setting himself. “Okay, let's get this done.”
“Most likely we'll need to do follow-up interviews as we process the evidence and information. I hope you are aware of that, Captain,” the commander stated.
“I do. As long as you are aware that my crew have duties to perform. We're shorthanded, so you'll need to work around that.”
“I think we can work that out. as long as they are aware that they are not to talk to each other about the case,” she warned.
He nodded.
@
Horatio was surprised when the Neogorilla master-at-arms knocked on his door and then entered his cell. He was even more surprised and a bit displeased when he was ordered to stand and then handscanned.
When he turned to ask a question, the master-at-arms shook his head. “No talking,” he growled.
Horatio grimaced but remained silent.
When the ape was finished, the master-at-arms issued him an orange jump suit and then locked an ID band around his right wrist. Horatio's implants scanned it and noted an RF tag inside the band. “This will identify you and keep you out of certain areas and confined to the brig. Don't try to take it off. If you do, it will set off the alarm, and there will be hell to pay,” the Neogorilla warned him.
“I won't. You do realize we're all in deep pucky, right?” Horatio asked quietly.
“Sir, that could be construed as a threat. Please don't make this worse than it already is. I strongly urge you to remain silent. Remember, anything can and will be used against you,” the ape said.
“Right,” Horatio drawled as he settled himself in.
“And just remember, we're just doing our duty.”
“No, you aren't. I am. If you were, I wouldn't be here,” Horatio said as he settled on the rack.
The ape looked at him for a long moment and then bit his lip. After a moment, his nostrils dilated, and he turned away to go about his business.
Chapter 2
President K'k'R'll, the Veraxin President of the Bekian Republic and governor of the Bek A component of the binary star system, read the report of the broadcast and then swiveled an eyestalk to his chief of staff. “Any activity on the naval brass front?” he asked carefully.
“Nothing at all, sir,” L'r'kk, his chief of staff replied.
“Yes, something told me you would have informed me if there had been any changes,” the president said dryly. He turned to vid screens of the major media outlets covering the event. Some had talking heads spinning the event this way or that into a Terran pretzel while others showed a video of people cheering or protesting; he wasn't certain which.
“Yes, sir. There haven’t been any changes in leadership. There has been a lot of activity, none of it I'd consider good,” L'r'kk stated. Twelve hours had passed since the announcement had hit the star system like a lightning bolt.
“So, obviously Childress isn't backing down and going away quietly,” the president sighed.
“No. That'd make it too easy.”
The Veraxin signaled first-degree disgust as his lobster claws rested on either side of his blotter. “Lovely.”
“The fun thing is, we're caught in the middle of what is turning into a potential civil war. And we're the side without the guns and ships,” Nibs, the Neocat Vice President and Governor of the Bek B component, stated from her seat on the couch as she sipped her morning drink. The cabinet was still on its way in for the emergency meeting, but she'd been right next door when the news of the broadcast had come in. She'd been initially cheered like everyone else, but the sobering news of no changes in the naval administration had ended that. She'd cleared her schedule right off and had decided to drop in on her bug counterpart for breakfast to plan their next move.
“Frack,” the president buzzed. “Who would ever want this damn job? I should have my head examined.”
“We do that daily, sir,” his chief of staff joked.
The president swiveled all of his eyes to him. “Maybe we should do it twice a day. Or better yet, have Childress committed.”
“I wish,” his chief of staff growled softly, indicating first-degree agreement.
Nibs nodded. “Me too. So, where do we go from here? And what about the navy?”
“Unfortunately, the ball is in the admiral's court or at least in the hands of his supporters. He's got too many powerful patrons on the civilian side too. I'm wondering if they'll stay the course behind him, knowing it will inevitably mean a break with the Federation and a confrontation with us and Irons, or if they'll desert him to save their own exoskeletons,” the president said thoughtfully.
“I think a lot of people including Childress are wondering that right now. Or at least, they are if they are smart.”
“Smart, I'm not sure if that qualifies for Admiral Childress. Cunning, yes. A mouthpiece
for others, maybe. We'll see.”
“The cabinet will be here in another hour, sir. Until then …,” the chief of staff said reluctantly.
“Yes, I suppose we can get some other work done. Damage control?”
“We don't even know where to start,” Nibs said with an ear flick. “I'm going to have to go back to Bek B to keep a lid on things there. I know if it is crazy here, it'll be even worse there. Childress is not someone we're fans of.”
“I know. I think we'll have to wait until the cabinet is assembled, but I want your opinion now. Where do you stand?” President K'kR'll asked her directly.
Her ears flicked. “Where else? Behind the victor,” she said simply as she crossed her legs.
“Yeah, I thought as much. Ever the politician,” the president replied.
She wiggled her whiskers at him. “And you?”
“Do you even have to ask?” he asked. She snorted in reply.
@
Mrs. Reba Childress, head of Childress shipyard industries, shook her head as she finished reading the latest report. It was the reason for the hastily-arranged conference she knew. “Now my bumbling son has well and truly done it,” she sighed as she put the tablet down with the report of the broadcast. “Do we know what Omar is going to do?”
“He's your son. You don't know?” Jules Fabian, head of Fabian CNC fabricators asked very carefully. He and others like him had thrown in behind Childress to keep the status quo and their own piece of the pie. Now that was even more threatened and he didn't like it. Not that he could voice such misgivings out loud.
“He's not taking my calls,” she replied in a suffering tone of voice. Her people had tried all night to get her son to respond to her. Short of taking out an ad in the media, they were being ignored. That was not sitting well with her.
“Oh, um … then no.”
“I thought not.”
“I assume you'll keep trying?” Jules asked carefully. She shot him a withering look for even daring to ask such a stupid question. He put his hands up in defense. “You can turn down the voltage, Reba; I was just asking.”
