by Chris Hechtl
The commander frowned thoughtfully, but then shook his head as he crossed his long arms. The first law of finding a pipeline was to monitor it, trace its contacts, but leave it alone unless it was absolutely necessary to interfere with. “No. Wait, what is the nature of the emails?”
“A few are emails he had in his backlog from before his arrest. Some are in answer to emails they sent him. Apparently, he received emails when they entered the star system. There is news tucked in there, stuff he picked up from the ansible mostly. From what I've seen, most of it is supposed to be public and is therefore unclassified. Only a few paragraphs detail the events in B-102c. Some send out condolences about those that were lost due to the A.I. attack. Only one or two mention what his orders were.”
“What is the tone of those emails?”
“Keep your head down and do your duty mostly,” the special agent answered after a second scan.
The commander nodded slowly. “Okay, copy all of them of course, scan them for subversion and other issues, but don't make any moves without my say so.”
The NCIS agent nodded, flicking his ears. “Aye aye, sir.”
The commander looked at him for a long moment and then left the compartment without another word. The agent shot the JAG a look of relief. She shrugged it off. “Back to work,” she muttered. After a moment, he nodded.
@
Both Ingrid and her husband Sven Sema received emails from Horatio. They were eager for any news and insight into what was going on; so after carefully screening the files, they opened them on a secure server. They each read their emails, then passed them over to their partner. When they were finished Ingrid, took off her reading glasses and stared up at the ceiling. “What is going on? Has everyone in the navy gone mad?”
“It seems that way. And unfortunately for Horatio, there is little we can do about it,” Sven said with a shake of his head.
“Damn it.”
“Don't I just know it. The government is going mad. There is so much fear and hand wringing it's not funny,” Sven said.
“Was it even safe to open these?” Ingrid asked, indicating the emails.
Sven snorted. “I'm betting ONI already knew about our contact. If they didn't, they do now, so it's too late to be worried about it. The question is, where do we go from here? I was serious about not doing much about it.”
“We can feed some of this to the media. If he sent it out to enough people, then it will have to leak eventually.”
“True.”
“I don't really see what we can do to stop Childress. But, maybe there is something we can do to help Horatio and put one over on Childress and his supporters,” Sven said slowly.
“Oh?”
“Let me make a few calls,” he said as he rose from his seat. He leaned over and gave his wife a kiss on the cheek and then went to work.
@
Ensign Tucker Jaroslaw got the emails from Admiral Logan when he was on shift so he didn't have the time to go through them. When he did find the time on shift, he sat back, stunned by the seesaw of emotions running through him. On the one hand, he was elated that the admiral had been promoted. But the report of the Xeno wraith attack on the station and the deaths hit him hard. As did the admiral's final email that stated he'd been ordered to transmit a message relieving Admiral Childress of command and had been since arrested.
He thought about it for a long moment before he shrugged. Most likely ONI had already read the email. They might be wondering what he was going to do. Well, that was simple, he needed to call someone, someone else who knew what was going on. Unfortunately, the transmission would be open, but that might be okay, he thought as he put the call through. If they were on the up and up and showed they had nothing to hide, then ONI would hopefully leave them alone he thought as Ensign Lee Weiss, his counterpart, took the call, but email only.
That made sense too since she was on a different planet at a different veterans’ hospital complex.
“Somehow, I knew you'd call,” Lee started the conversation off.
“Who else am I going to call?” Tucker typed. “You got the emails?”
“By now I think just about everyone but Alice has. I don't even need to guess which ones. Did you turn the news on? It just broke, the call from Admiral Irons I mean,” she typed back.
He waited a full minute. When she didn't say anything further, he typed out an impatient single worded demand. “And?”
“Turn the boob tube on and find out genius,” she typed back a few minutes later.
He scowled but turned the vid screen on and changed the channel to a news channel. He listened as the cycle went through the usual run of sports and local weather before the dominant system-wide story came back around once more. He frowned. “You still there?” Lee typed.
“Yeah,” he typed back. “Damn.”
“Yeah. You'll notice there hasn't been any shakeups at the Admiralty, nor are any expected,” Lee typed back.
He frowned. He could see the acid black humor in his fellow surgeon's missive. He didn't blame her.
He looked out the window for a moment, saw the starry night beyond, then to the vid screen, and then finally back to the email. His fingers flicked, then began to move as if on their own. “What sucks is, there is nothing we can do,” Tucker grumbled. “Not a gods-be-damned thing. I feel so helpless. I hate that feeling.”
“We could go public and support Admiral Logan, resign like the others,” Lee offered.
He frowned in confusion until the news report got around to the resignations going on at the navy. He grunted. “What good will that do?” Tucker demanded.
“Not much I suppose,” Lee replied. “It's not making an impact with Childress. What is stupid is that they are resigning but not relieving … never mind,” she finished.
He shook his head. He knew she had just skated on dangerous ground. “I don't think it will do much good.”
“I doubt it. Are you going to resign?”
“No. If we resigned, we'd be out in the cold. I suppose we've both got first-rate medical training so we'd land on our feet. Where is a big question. But we'd be in deep pucky with the navy. I think we just keep our heads down, do our jobs, and ride it out like everyone else.”
“Not everyone else is riding it out. Many are resigning Tucker,” Lee warned.
“I know that. I meant like everyone we know,” he pointed out. “You don't see any of the other transplants quitting, do you?”
“True. I know we've been through some rough times. Like when Admiral Irons was forced out of Pyrax. But Tucker, this feels different. It's …wrong.”
“I know. But Admiral Logan led us through that time period just fine.”
“He wasn't the object of this witch hunt. Why doesn't Childress resign? For the good of the navy? Just quit and let the rest of us follow orders? For that matter, why won't someone relieve him?”
“He's got too many of his own people around him. He's too stubborn to back down, and I dunno, I guess he thinks Irons is too far away to do anything about it. Remember what they taught us in officer's school?”
“Um …?”
“Never give an order you know won't be obeyed. He probably thinks Admiral Irons won't back it up.”
“Well, if he is thinking that, he's wrong. The admiral is a nice guy, but eventually, he's going to wonder what is going on here. Bek is his ace in the hole. We're just the first wave; there are supposed to be several teams following us to get them up to speed. Then they are supposed to be coming out of the nexus to help fight the war and rebuild the Federation.”
“I know all that,” Tucker replied testily. “What I think Childress and his supporters think is that it will all blow over somehow. We've all seen Irons cut people slack. He's been slow on promoting people too. That's changing slightly but not much.”
“He cut people slack because we were learning on the job and because he needed us.”
“And he needs Childress,” Tucker said.
<
br /> “Yeah, like a hole in his head.”
“Funny.”
“I think you are wrong on that, Tucker, I think Irons knows how many people are here in Bek, all the naval personnel, and they've been in uniform for ages. They don't have the excuse of learning on the job. He'll land on them—hard. How and when just remains the big questions of the day.”
“Yeah,” Tucker said. He checked the time and then grimaced. They were on different planets, five light seconds apart. The conversation had taken up most of his evening. “Look, I've got to get some shut eye, I've got a full shift tomorrow,” he said reluctantly.
“And I'm just getting off mine,” Lee replied. “When are you off duty again?”
“I've got the weekend coming up. You?”
“Same. But it's a two day,” she replied mournfully.
“I know, same here. So, we can't meet up and play tourist again. Maybe on a holiday weekend?”
“Not the next one, I am working a swap from our previous time off,” Lee replied.
“Crap,” he typed, checking the calendar. “Okay, well, keep me posted.
“Will do. Night.”
“Night.”
@
“It seems the medic conversation is finished for the time being. Nothing overt there, the female strayed once into starting to ask why someone won't relieve but then cut herself off,” the tech said in carefully neutral tones. “Would you like to read all that again, sir?” the ONI analyst said as he looked up.
“No, I can see it from here just fine,” Commander Jean Onslo said. The tech flinched in surprise. He hadn't noticed the Neochimp commander standing there, reading over his shoulder. “I don't read anything into it. They griped, but then left it at that. The usual chatter. Keep an eye on them though.”
“Yes, sir.”
“What about the Veraxin?”
“We're checking now. He's at the academy though.”
“Oh, I bet Admiral C'v'll just loves having him around.”
“He's an academy graduate, sir, not a mustang.”
“Doesn't matter. He's not from around here. He can't trust the Pyrax Academy.”
“Oh.”
“Let's see what the bug's been up to and how he reacts, shall we? I'm curious to see if he'll reach out to Admiral Zekowitz or someone else.”
“Yes, sir,” the tech replied dubiously.
@
Lieutenant V'l'r read the email once more as he went to his office. The Veraxin navigator turned teacher paused. He was supposed to grade his student's work before his next class, but the situation just bothered the hell out of him. His mission to teach at the Bek Academy had been more or less undermined from the moment Caroline had dropped him off. He was underutilized; he knew that. He was a navigator; he was supposed to teach hypernavigation and advanced hyperspace math, not basic math, and basic astrogation and the occasional off-the-books hypernavigation tutoring session.
It was a very frustrating experience for him, to know he could contribute more, but was barred from doing so.
The Bekian Navy, or at least the brass, seemed uninterested in preparing for starflight and the pirate war as they had been ordered to do. On top of that, he had some keys that were just not being used.
It was about time someone did something about the situation. But, they had, yet it hadn't worked out as planned obviously since Childress was still firmly in power. “What the hell does he expect me to do?”
On impulse, he navigated the halls to the engineering wing of the academy. From there he went to Admiral Zekowitz's office for help and advice but the senior officer was not around. He noted a suspicious janitor paying more attention to him and others coming and going rather than his job. He decided hastily that it was best to just go back to his small office and grade more papers.
@
Captain Clayton felt empty as he read the report and list of charges. He didn't like it, didn't like where it was leading. But he knew he was caught up in the works. Hell, not even caught up, he was a part of the works, a cog, a piece of the machinery designed to grind the admiral down, to tear him apart.
Which was unfair. Admiral Logan was a good man, a decent man. He didn't like some of the choices the man had made, but he was a fellow naval officer doing his part and following orders. Punishing someone for following orders … he grimaced as he knocked back his whiskey. That was as raw and painful as that shot, he thought as he slammed the glass down onto the table.
But, he bleakly thought, there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it except follow his own orders.
@
Some of the officers and enlisted on Ilmarinen who got Horatio's texts and emails considered what to do. Most were not certain; they didn't like being drawn into it and resented Horatio's assumption that they could do anything. Not that he'd asked for that. Quite the contrary, he'd told them to keep their heads down but pass on the information to others. Some weren't even willing to go to that distance for him.
They were certain NCIS and ONI were monitoring them. Many deleted the emails in the vain hope that they would be ignored or overlooked.
Despite that, there was a lot of talk in the mess among the crew about the events and among the junior officers in the wardroom. Captain Clayton was not there. “I know it's not so much a matter of sticking your neck out …,” Lieutenant V'r'x, the purser, buzzed.
“If they can do this to him … what about us? We're small potatoes, but he's got rank protecting him. They'll flush our careers in a heartbeat,” Ensign Fly by Night, the Delquir navigator, stated.
“Agreed. Best to lay low and stay the course. Follow the herd and hope someone does something soon,” Commander Gemma Simmons, the acting chief engineer said as she picked at her rubbery eggs.
“Yeah,” Commander Leo Fitz agreed dubiously with a nod. “Hopefully, someone does do something soon.”
@
Gemma shook her head when they were finally alone and could talk. “Does he realize anything he says can be used against him? Including these emails? He's put a lot of these people into hot water right alongside of him. Does he even care?” she demanded, pacing in the cabin.
“Probably. I think he does care and is trying to keep a lid on people. Not that they can do much,” Fitz replied with a shrug. “It's just more fuel for the fire I suppose.”
“Lovely,” Gemma drawled. “Fitz, I don't like this. I don't like what we're doing here,” she said softly as Fitz turned to eye her.
“I know. He's a good man. He's made mistakes, and I don't like how he's into some tech, but …” he grimaced and ran a hand through his hair. “It's not up to us Gemma. It's out of our hands. We need to have faith in our team and remember our duty. It isn't personal.”
“I know. It sure feels like it is.”
“We've been trained for this,” Fitz said as he copied the files to send to their real boss. “You know the feelings of guilt and betrayal are false. We did our job. Just focus on the next task. Break it down. Don't look at the man; look at what we need to do to finish our mission.”
“Yes,” Gemma replied, biting her lip slightly.
Fitz finished his email and passed on a copy of the texts, emails and the identity of the recipients as well as the discussion in the wardroom to their ONI handler. For the moment, he knew their cover was solid, but he hoped they'd be pulled out or given liberty soon.
Gemma wasn't the only one feeling like a traitor these days he thought.
Chapter 5
Lieutenant Commander Weaver Thistle did his best not to lash his tail, despite room to do so. The engineer turned unwilling logistics officer was stuck in an untenable situation. He'd read and reread Admiral Logan's emails over and over again. He'd also seen the news. Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do.
He couldn't help but be intensely frustrated by the arrest and general situation. None of what was happening was what was supposed to happen. Bek was not supposed to be the enemy, but it damn well
felt that way, more and more. His feelings of treason might trip his implant watchdog programming at any time too, something else that bothered him.
He was well aware that he was being monitored; most likely the powers that be had read the emails and let him see them just to see what he'd do. He'd taken them to his superior, Admiral Bolt. The white Neodog was his size, but he knew not to let the size fool him.
Instead of addressing the problem, Admiral Bolt had cut him off with fresh orders. He'd had the commander work on the docks after a mishap with some paperwork. It had been a snafu in his office, not even his fault, but he'd been lax in reviewing it coming in from the three-day weekend, or so the admiral had said. Admiral Bolt had landed on him and had an unusual punishment; he'd been forced to work the docks loading a ship for two days on the following weekend.
It had been an interesting experience he had to admit, and it had gotten him out of the office and away from some of the sour looks. It had also gotten him out of his head space since shifting cargo at his small size was dangerous.
It was also tiring, but he had picked a few things up, and he'd learned why things were needed in a certain order and timing.
First off, he was surprised by the size and design of the ship. She was the Toneger, a sublight roll-on roll-off cargo vessel, not a bulk freighter. That meant the cargo was mobile, either with wheels or grav emitters to float it on board. Her port stern had a massive lock that mated with the space station.
Drivers were used to bring the loads on board. They drove the load on and were directed to a specific deck by the supervisor and signs. They then took a taxi back to the port for the next load. He thought about how an A.I. would make the process so much simpler, but kept such comments to himself for the time being. He was there to learn, not to critique and make himself look like a know-it-all dumb ass.
He was impressed with some of the loading equipment. A few of the tractors used to move cargo pallets on and off the ship had a cab with a seat and steering wheel that rotated. It allowed the tractor to remain behind the load to pack it in tight. Space was at a premium on a ship he knew.
