Stand Against The Storm (The Maxwell Saga Book 4)

by Peter Grant

  “I’m grateful to you, Ma’am. I hope he gets it.”

  “It’s extraordinarily difficult to earn that award, for good reason, but under the circumstances I think he stands a good chance. At the very least he should get the Star in Gold – which brings me to your situation. You know that Major Emory and Lieutenant-Colonel Battista nominated you for that award, right?”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  “You won’t be getting it, but I think you’ll be more than happy with what we do for you instead. There are three reasons. First, a Gold- or Valor-level award is very hard to justify, deliberately so, and relatively few of those nominated for one actually receive it. In order to maximize the chance of Gunnery Sergeant Kinnear receiving one, I felt it best not to submit a second nomination at that level for the same operation. Second, I can approve awards up to Silver level locally, without having to refer them to the Board of Admiralty. Finally, the Fleet has multiple ways to reward performance. For example, instead of a medal at the appropriate level, it might confer a lesser medal plus a promotion or seniority award. You follow me?”

  “Yes, Ma’am.” Steve had been momentarily disappointed to hear that his nomination wouldn’t be going any further, but now he was intrigued. This sounded very promising.

  “Commodore Wu has plans for you, and alternate forms of recognition will make it easier for him to put them into effect. Speaking of the Commodore,” and she glanced at a red light flickering on her desk, “I expect this will be him.” She pressed her intercom button. “Yes, Flags?”

  “Commodore Wu and the Eksalansari are here, Ma’am.”

  “Thank you. Bring them in, please.”

  Steve came to his feet as the Admiral rose, and turned to face the door. The Eksalansari came in first, wearing a civilian suit, followed by the Commodore, the Flag-Lieutenant and a photographer bearing a sophisticated camera and an assistant bearing stand-mounted lights. They moved to one side and began to set up their equipment as Steve shook hands with the new arrivals.

  “The Eksalansari is here as the Sultan’s official representative,” Vice-Admiral Perparim informed him. “He’s discussing closer ties with us from a military perspective, and he’ll be presenting the Marines who served on Eskishi with a Karabak unit award, and some individual Marines with various grades of Karabak’s Military Star, at a parade tomorrow. Normally you’d have been honored there as well – and you’ll share in the unit award, of course, as you were attached to the Marines for part of the period in question – but as I said, we need to preserve your anonymity; hence this private award ceremony.”

  “I see. Thank you, Ma’am.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. Wait until you find out what we have in store for you,” she said with a smile. “Got everything, Flags?”

  “Right here, Ma’am.” Lieutenant McShea lifted a thick folder in her hand. “Senior Lieutenant, would you stand here, please?” She indicated a spot in range of the lights that the photographer’s assistant had just switched on. Steve complied as the Admiral moved to face him.

  “Attention to orders!” Everyone braced as the Flag-Lieutenant handed her a parchment citation. “On behalf of the Board of Admiralty of the Lancastrian Commonwealth Fleet, I, Vice-Admiral Dafina Perparim, in my capacity as Flag Officer in Command of the Cassius Sector of the said Fleet, take pleasure in awarding the Lancastrian Star in Silver to Steven Maxwell, Senior Lieutenant, Spacer Corps, for conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity in action while on detached service from LCS Cybele on the planet Eskishi between June 19th and July 12th, 2050, Galactic Standard Calendar.”

  She went on to describe in officialese the rescue of the Eksalansari, the fight with the rebels the same night and the release of Major Emory and the hostages from the spaceport, and the rescue of the remaining hostages aboard the cargo shuttle. She concluded, “Senior Lieutenant Maxwell's actions are in keeping with the finest traditions of military heroism and reflect great credit upon himself, the Spacer Corps, and the Lancastrian Commonwealth Fleet.”

  She handed the parchment back to her Flag-Lieutenant as the Commodore and Eksalansari applauded, and took from her a black box containing a small bronze rosette. “You already have the Star in Silver,” she noted, “so you’ll wear this emblem on its ribbon to indicate a second award.” She pinned it in place, then shook Steve’s hand. “Congratulations, Senior Lieutenant.”

  “Thank you, Ma’am.”

  “Hold that thought. We’re far from finished yet. You’ll be notified administratively in due course that your Combat Injury Medal has been upgraded to Gold, to reflect your third wound in combat during the rescue of the hostages from the spaceport. You’ll also receive additional combat stars for your Space and Planetary Combat Badges.”

  “Thank you, Ma’am,” he said again. That would make a total of four stars on his Space Combat Badge. One more, and he’d trade in all the small silver ones for a single larger gold star. The Fleet didn’t feel it necessary to issue additional stars once you reached a count of five or more. His Planetary Combat Badge would now bear three stars.

  “Flags?” The Admiral took another parchment sheet from her aide and turned back to him. “Attention to orders! Senior Lieutenant Steven Maxwell, Spacer Corps, Lancastrian Commonwealth Fleet, repeatedly exhibited exceptional professionalism, outstanding qualities of leadership and great personal courage under combat conditions while on detached service from LCS Cybele on the planet Eskishi between June 19th and July 12th, 2050, Galactic Standard Calendar. During that period he had sufficient time in grade and in service to be eligible for promotion. Therefore I, Vice-Admiral Dafina Perparim, in my capacity as Flag Officer in Command of the Cassius Sector of the said Commonwealth, take pleasure in awarding Senior Lieutenant Maxwell an immediate combat promotion to the rank of Lieutenant-Commander. This promotion shall be backdated to July 11th 2850, the date on which he most recently distinguished himself.”

  Returning the parchment to her Flag-Lieutenant, the Admiral removed Steve’s epaulettes bearing the three bars of a Senior Lieutenant and replaced them with new ones bearing the single ringed planet of Lieutenant-Commander’s rank. Steve stood rigidly at attention as she did so, his mind racing. He knew this had speeded up his advancement by anywhere between six months and a year. He had become eligible for promotion after completing three years as a Senior Lieutenant, and he was aware Commander Doibro had recommended him for it – the first two steps in the process. However, Lieutenant-Commander was not just a step up. It was the lowest rank in the Senior Officer bracket, for which candidates first had to be approved by a competitive Selection Board in the normal course of events, then wait for an appointment requiring or justifying the rank before their promotion could take effect. A combat promotion bypassed that process, cutting through all the red tape.

  As the Admiral re-fastened his epaulette straps, she smiled up at him. “I told you the Fleet has multiple ways to reward good performance. I hope a second Star in Silver plus a combat promotion will serve instead of the Star in Gold for which you were originally recommended.”

  “Oh, yes, Ma’am!” He couldn’t hold back a huge grin. He’d much rather have the higher rank than a more senior medal, particularly given Commodore Wu’s promise of early command responsibilities. Promotion would make that more feasible in the short term.

  “We aren’t finished yet,” she told him archly. “Eksalansari, if you’d care to take over?”

  “Thank you, Admiral.” The young man stepped forward. “Lieutenant-Commander Maxwell, Governor Sirhan and I reported your accomplishments to my father and nominated you for one of our military awards. However, the Sultan pointed out that by rescuing first his youngest son and then his beloved cousin, Governor Sirhan’s wife, you had twice rendered personal service to Karabak’s Royal Family.

  “The Order of Mehmet is named for the Sultan who founded it a century ago. Membership is restricted to those who have rendered outstanding personal service to the Crown and Royal Family, of such a nature that it t
ranscends mere monetary reward. It can have a maximum of twenty-four members, although there are only nineteen at present. Admission is in the sole gift of the Sultan. I’m here as my father’s representative to confer upon you membership in the Order of Mehmet, with all its associated rights and privileges, duties and responsibilities.”

  Steve opened his mouth to speak, but the prince forestalled him by adding, “You’re the first non-Karabak citizen ever to be admitted to the Order. Its duties and obligations have therefore been modified in your case, waiving the customary oath of loyalty to the Sultan and to Karabak, and subordinating all others to the precedence of your Commonwealth citizenship and existing oath of service to the Lancastrian Commonwealth Fleet.”

  “Th – thank you, Eksalansari,” Steve managed to say.

  The prince handed him the folded sash of the Order, made of white silk edged with heavy gold braid with the badge of the Order in the center panel, intended to be draped from his right shoulder to his left hip when wearing civilian clothes. Next he presented Steve with a box containing full-size and miniature copies of a medal to be worn in uniform. It was a jeweled representation of the badge of the Order, an elaborate gold wreath surmounted by a cross, each narrow blue-and-gold enameled arm ending in two points. A red and gold royal crown occupied the center of the cross, and the medal was suspended from a white and gold ribbon in the same pattern as the sash.

  Steve signed two copies of a certificate conferring membership of the Order upon him, signifying that he had accepted it. As he did so, the prince added, “Among other things, membership of the Order guarantees immediate access to the Sultan and any of his Ministers of State at any time for any reason.”

  Steve fumbled for words, but couldn’t find any. He eventually settled for another “Thank you, Eksalansari,” as he accepted his copy of the certificate.

  “The poor man’s overwhelmed,” Commodore Wu grinned as the prince stepped back. “There’s one last shock to your system, Commander. May I, please, Admiral?”

  “Be my guest, Commodore.”

  “Thank you.” Wu took a sheet of paper from an inner pocket and unfolded it. “Attention to orders! Upon detachment from LCS Cybele, Senior Lieutenant Maxwell – that should now read Lieutenant-Commander Maxwell, of course – is to report to Commodore Wu Zhongzhi of the Bureau of Intelligence for further assignment.” He folded the document. “You’ll need to see Administration to take care of the formalities associated with your promotion. Meet me at noon at the Flag Officers dining facility. Over lunch we’ll discuss what happens next.”

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  The photographer had been unobtrusively taking pictures in the background all through the presentations. Now he and his assistant gathered their equipment and slipped out as Vice-Admiral Perparim said, “I’ll have copies of the official photographs sent to you. We won’t publicize this to the news media because, as I said earlier, you’ll need a certain level of anonymity in your work for BuIntel.”

  “I understand, Ma’am.”

  “Commodore, you and the Eksalansari will stay to discuss the arrangements we’ve been making. Lieutenant-Commander Maxwell, my Flag-Lieutenant will escort you to Admin to take care of your paperwork.”

  “Aye aye, Ma’am.”

  As she closed the door to the Admiral’s office, McShea handed him the folder she’d been carrying. “Congratulations, Sir. Here are your copies of the citations and orders.”

  “Thanks.” Steve shook his head as he accepted it. “I can still hardly believe everything that’s happened.” He glanced down at the sash and medals of the Royal Order of Mehmet in his hands. “Am I allowed to wear this with Fleet uniform?”

  “The Sector Admiral has already asked the Board of Admiralty for approval, Sir. She doesn’t foresee any difficulty, seeing that you’ve been decorated and promoted by the Fleet for the same incident.” She bent and picked up a large box from the floor behind her desk. Opening it, she took out a uniform cap. “I took the liberty of looking up your hat size and ordering a new cap for you, Sir, since your promotion requires it.” She indicated the single row of leaves embroidered around the peak, traditionally referred to as ‘scrambled eggs’. It was the prerogative of Spacer Corps senior officers – Lieutenant-Commanders, Commanders and Captains – in silver, and in gold for Majors, Lieutenant-Colonels and Colonels of the Marine Corps.

  Steve grinned. “That was very thoughtful of you, thanks. If I may, I’ll leave all this here while we beard the Admin lions in their den.”

  McShea giggled. “That’s a very good way to put it!” She accepted his things and locked them in a capacious drawer. “This way, please, Sir.”

  ~ ~ ~

  The Flag Officers dining facility proved to be a small and very exclusive restaurant on the top floor of the Sector HQ building. A small anteroom was surrounded by six private alcoves of different sizes, available to resident and visiting Flag Officers and their guests by prior appointment. Commodore Wu had reserved the smallest for himself and Steve. They ordered from the menu, then sat back to wait for the food to arrive.

  “Well, did I keep my promise?” Wu demanded, smiling.

  “You certainly did, Sir! I’d hoped for good news, but nowhere near as much as this.”

  “Let me tell you what’s been happening while you’ve been shuttling back and forth to Eskishi.” Wu sipped at his glass of water. “I spent a week on Karabak. Thanks to a personal introduction to him by the Eksalansari, plus a letter from Governor Sirhan, plus the news of your activities and the good work of the Marines on Eskishi, the Sultan was in a very receptive mood. He’s agreed to allow the Fleet to base vessels at Karabak and its colonies for anti-piracy operations in due course, and Karabak’s Space Navy will take part in them. That’ll mean first upgrading their training and equipment, of course. They’re par for the course as far as a minor power goes, but nowhere near the standards of a major service like ours. We’re going to send training missions to Karabak, and we’ll probably sell them better equipment at ‘friendly’ prices. They’ll send troops and ships to Cassius for extended training and exercises with our forces. Some officers and senior NCO’s will be invited to attend advanced courses.

  “The Eksalansari will be part of that. His father agreed with his suggestion that it’ll be good for Karabak’s Royal Family to be seen to be fully supportive of this project. He’s busy ironing out the details with the Sector Admiral on behalf of the Sultan. By the time we’re ready to mount our first joint combat operations a few years from now, he should have received extensive training with our Marine Corps. He’ll probably be a Captain by then. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if he ends up assigned to your ship – at least, I think that’s what he has in mind.”

  “I’m glad to hear that, Sir, because it implies I’ll be involved.”

  “Oh, you certainly will be! Your award from the Sultan is part of that. It’ll help ensure you get the attention and assistance of every Karabak Department of State, because if they don’t do their utmost they’ll know you have right of access to their ultimate boss to complain about them. BuIntel will take full advantage of that when the time comes. However, that’s still a few years ahead. Let’s discuss your more immediate future. Have you ever heard rumors about so-called ‘Black Ships’ during your Fleet service?”

  “A few, Sir. They’re said to be Fleet ships carrying out secret missions. Some of the stories were pretty wild, but no-one ever seems to have actually seen any of them.”

  “Those who have don’t talk about it if they know what’s good for them! They comprise what’s become known informally as the Black Squadron, although it’s rather larger than the usual Fleet squadron of eight ships. It operates under BuIntel’s umbrella.”

  “What sort of ships does it operate, Sir?”

  “I can’t go into details about either the vessels or their missions. Security is paramount. Everything’s tightly compartmentalized, so much so that one Black Ship will seldom know what another is doing. Let�
�s just say, anything that for whatever reason can’t be accomplished by the regular Fleet or in more conventional ways is the Black Squadron’s business. In order to preserve secrecy it has to remain what Winston Churchill called ‘a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma’. That’s simply the nature of our work. I’ve just taken over as the Squadron’s second-in-command, after a couple of months’ delay thanks to the Eskishi crisis.”

  Steve sat up eagerly. “You said ‘our’ work, Sir. I hope that means what it sounds like?”

  “It does. Among the ships in the Black Squadron are a number of courier boats of the type used by interplanetary express shipping services. Along with military communications frigates, to which they’re basically identical in all but name, they’re the fastest ships in the settled galaxy. You’re going to command one of them.”

  Steve couldn’t hold back a beaming smile of delight. “That’s great news, Sir! What’s my ship’s name?”

  “She’ll use various names for public consumption, changing them as often as necessary along with her registration papers and transponder code. However, her name on the Fleet’s books will be LCS Pickle. Recognize it?”

  “Yes, Sir. That’s the Royal Navy schooner that brought to England the news of the Battle of Trafalgar and Admiral Nelson’s death, way back before the Space Age.”

  “That’s right. It’s a very historic name for a communications vessel. We keep it on our books and rotate it from vessel to vessel as required. The latest Pickle is the seventeenth to bear that name with us. We’ve dry-leased her from an express courier outfit using a front company, so that to all intents and purposes it looks like a straightforward commercial charter. She’s currently being refitted for her work with us. She’ll be ready by mid-November, after which you’ll take command, work her up and commence operations. When your two-year commission is over we’ll remove our equipment and hand her back. A year or two later, the next Pickle will be leased from a different supplier in the name of a different front company on a different planet. That’s one of the ways we make it difficult for anyone to associate a particular vessel with our activities.”