by Chris Hechtl
“We did notice a few things. There aren't nearly enough water dwellers,” Horatio said. “I was right about there not being enough for the other ships,” he said with a shake of his head. “From what I've heard, it's not going to get better, just worse. There are just too many draws on a limited manpower pool.”
“I know. I'm not sure what to do about it at this point,” Admiral Subert said, looking away.
“I know BuPers needs to step up recruiting, sir. We know of only the two populations, Agnosta and Epsilon Triangula. We need to step up education and recruiting at both,” Horatio mused thoughtfully.
The rear admiral glanced at him and then shook his head. “Not your problem, Horatio, it's Strongbirth's and whoever else's at this point. I imagine someone in BuPers and public affairs are dealing with it. Focus on your own duties and responsibilities, Commodore,” Admiral Subert said flatly.
“Yes, sir,” Horatio said instantly. So much for that he thought.
“And I'd appreciate it if you didn't go over my head to your buddy. You know the one,” Subert said eyeing him with moderate severity. “I don't like that,” he said with a firm put-down in his tone of voice.
Horatio kept his face professionally schooled along dispassionate lines. “Yes, sir.”
“Moving on then. I think we can hit two more replicators and reload the keys before I have to be back to the annex.”
“Yes, sir,” the commodore said. He tapped the lighter pilot's shoulder. “You heard the admiral. Two more stops then back to the barn,” he said.
The Neocat pilot glanced over his shoulder and then flicked her ears. “Aye aye, sirs,” she said as she turned back to look out the window in front of her.
Horatio sat back into his seat. He glanced at the admiral out of the corner of his eye. The admiral had a tablet in his lap and seemed engaged in it. After a moment, he closed his eyes and pulled up his mail box. His hands rose slightly, and he used them to tap at a virtual keyboard.
Admiral Subert glanced at his fellow passenger, noted his preoccupation, and then nodded once before he returned to his own work.
Chapter 8
Old friends, acquaintances, and even a few of his junior officers did their best to plan a party to see Horatio off. Horatio talked to some of his other old friends over the ansible. Matilda let slip about a planned party. He quietly scuttled the plan for the party once he picked up on it.
Commander Teague was relieved by the scuttled plan, but she still felt a bit guilty about being let off the hook. She'd been under pressure from Doctor Thornby, Matilda, and others to organize the party even though she had been at the POW base going over the interviews and restructuring the questions in order to draw out more material. She didn't want or need the social distraction. ONI was still catching heat over not having a full grasp of the Horathian situation.
Plus, she was supposed to get intel out of the prisoners and databases for the Eastern Front … and on top of that Captain Shelby Logan's mission to Tau. It just didn't seem fair that all those projects were coming up all at once. If the powers that be would just space them out, give her people a little breathing room to work …
She shook her head. If wishes were fishes, she reminded herself. “If wishes were fishes, we'd all be fed,” she murmured.
“Ma'am?” Lieutenant Clink asked, cocking his holographic avatar head at her.
“Never mind. Did you organize the database on who's been to Tau or mentioned information about that sector?”
“Aye aye, ma'am. And Pi for good measure. It is just a matter of time before someone puts a request in.”
“Good. We're going on second- and third-hand accounts of course. We'll have to stress that in the reports. They'll bitch about the qualifiers, but we don't have up-to-date intel. They never understand that.”
“No, ma'am, they don't.” Clink said. He took his monocle off and pretended to wash it with a handkerchief.
She shook her head, ignoring his mannerism. “The Eastern Front is still the priority of course. But see what we can do for follow-up questions. We've got their databases. Do we have an accurate map of Tau and Pi?”
“No, ma'am. The ships we captured weren't set-up to go to either sector.”
“Damn,” the commander murmured. “Damn. Okay.” She settled herself. “We'll have to make do with the civilian material we've got and fill in the blanks the best we can.”
“Yes, ma'am.”
“Okay, so that leaves us with …”
~<><{<^>}><>~
The recommendation of counseling for Admiral Zekowitz was flagged for review to Admiral Subert, BuPers, Commander Fox, Admiral Irons, and Admiral Sienkov. Admiral Sienkov wasn't available since he was in transit so the alert was passed over to Admiral Subert as system commander a second time.
Admiral Subert read the report as well as a text message inquiring about it from Lieutenant Strongbirth over at BuPers. He was not happy about the slap to an officer, especially a senior one. He immediately called Doctor Taylor in on the carpet. The doctor's staff did their best to adjust his schedule as he went to the admiral.
Doctor Taylor wasn't certain what it was all about. He had a scheduled meeting with Commander Fox, but obviously, the admiral took precedence. Hopefully, the man didn't have a hangnail again or indigestion. He'd been tempted to swing by his office and pick up his medical bag, but the order had to report had been “as soon as possible.” Which coming from an admiral meant right this damn minute.
“Sir?” the doctor said. “You have a problem?” he asked as he entered the office. “I um, we might need to take this over to medical, sir.”
He flinched when the hatch behind him shut. “I have a problem. The problem is you,” the admiral said coldly, eyeing the doctor. “Get over here, Lieutenant,” he said, pointing to a spot in front of him.
“Sir,” Roman said, coming over to the desk. He caught enough of the admiral's vital signs and demeanor to know he was in trouble. He came to parade rest.
The admiral took a long moment to study him. Finally, he grunted. “You've had an interesting time,” he said.
“Sir?”
“I've cut you a lot of slack. I've wanted you to take over here. Clearly, I was wrong about that. This latest mess you just threw into my face proved it,” he said, picking up a tablet, waving it, and then dropping it back onto the desk in front of him.
“Um …?”
“You tagged Admiral Zekowitz with several psychological conditions and recommended counseling,” the admiral said, finally cluing the doctor in. He stood and paced, clearly incensed by the act. “What the hell gives you the gall to destroy a man's career? What did he do, piss you off?” he demanded, pacing.
“Sir …”
“Silence!” the admiral barked. He rounded on the doctor with a glare, making him come to attention and gulp. He studied his prey for a moment then continued to pace before he stood before the long window behind his desk. “Damn it, Lieutenant, you've put me, Admiral Irons, and a hell of a lot of other people in an incredible fix. Not only politically, but in other ways as well. It's put the entire navy in a fix.” He stared out into the void for a long moment. “Now we've got to clean it up,” he said. He turned and took a seat once more. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
“Sir, I … can't. I can't breach doctor patient confidentiality,” Doctor Taylor said.
“I've got the file,” the admiral said waving a hand. “By now everyone has it. Hell, the media might,” he snarled, flicking his finger to hit the tablet so it slid across the desk. It got to the edge, teetered, and then fell to the floor. It bounced on the carpet and landed on the doctor's feet.
“Admiral Zekowitz hasn't been informed yet, but I can imagine his reaction. Obviously, you are unfit to continue as his doctor. You are going to be replaced,” the admiral snarled.
“Obviously Commander Fox will be involved if she isn't already. This has been kicked around in the system for the better part of a week. It damn well better not
get to the media or there will be hell to pay,” Admiral Subert growled.
“I'm sorry, sir. I don't know what to say. He is …,” the doctor flinched at the cold venom in the admiral's expression as he tried to lay out a defense. Instead he changed tactics. “I'm sorry I disappointed you, sir,” he said simply, preparing himself mentally to take his lumps for doing his duty. Sometimes life wasn't fair he thought.
“You did that when you made the notation in the man's record. Such things stick and can be damaging to a career. We're going to purge it. He's going to get a more senior officer, clearly someone with more experience.”
The doctor flinched again. “Sir, the file …”
“Silence. It is going to be gone because I say it will be. Because we're having this conversation to explain to you what shouldn't have had to been explained in the first place! My gods in space man, you don't have the common sense of baby ducks! Or are you just politically tone deaf?” The admiral snarled, voice rising before he got control of himself. “The reason you are done with him and others is because the system said you flagged him so he had to be reviewed to see if he was unfit for command. That sort of thing sticks.”
“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir,” Doctor Taylor said stiffly. “I was trying to do my duty.”
The admiral forced himself to take a step back. Clearly the doctor believed that. That told him there was some legitimacy to the problem Roman was drawing attention to. He wasn't certain how much, but since Admiral Zekowitz was one of the last officers to get implants and had dragged his feet … he forced himself to relax. Finally, he was certain he had enough control of himself to continue. “I know that,” he said in a gentler tone of voice that surprised even him. “That is the only reason this is a verbal reprimand and not a formal one. Next time be more careful, Roman.”
The doctor nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Dismissed.”
~<><{<^>}><>~
“Roman should have known better,” Admiral Subert said as he scowled at the void outside the window. His chief of staff didn't say anything as he took a seat across from the flag officer. “He should have. He's from our time; you'd think … but no. And damn it …,” the admiral cursed slightly. He shook his head, obviously still grappling with the problem and its implications.
Saul shook his own head. Admiral Subert wasn't ready to let Roman off the hook even after the medical report had been deleted by Commander Fox. And Commander Fox had a few pointed remarks about the admiral jumping his chain of command. The chief of staff had intercepted them before they'd reached the admiral's ear however. He didn't need or want brouhaha between the admiral and his staff.
“He was doing his duty, sir, and was oblivious to the politics or implications of it. I understand that in theory. Apparently, Admiral Zekowitz isn't the only one with his problem, sir, or at least, not the only Bekian officer. I know we've had our fair share in Pyrax and abroad, but it seems all of the Bekian officers have had this hang-up at one point or another.” He grimaced at the admiral's expression. “Of course I can't say for certain since I don't have access to their patients’ files.”
“In other words, you just have rumors and innuendo to go by,” the admiral said scathingly, eyes finding the chief of staff.
“Something like that, sir. It is something that might need to be addressed, sir. I've tried talking to some of the officers, but they usually cut off that line of questioning. We might need to sick someone in ONI on it if we can't find anything in their historical databases,” he said. He waved a tablet. “To date I haven't found anything myself.”
“Run that past me again?”
“They, they meaning the Bekians, have an aversion for certain topics of technology. They apparently, don't use them and are atavistic as Doctor Taylor pointed out. Nanotech I can understand, but they are also firmly against other forms of technology as well, sir.”
“Such as …?”
“For instance, I don't understand why they don't have even rudimentary dumb A.I. I'd think some would have survived in the star system. It doesn't seem to be the case.”
“No A.I.? Not even smart systems?”
Saul shook his head meaningfully. “No, sir.”
“Odd.”
The admiral shook his head when the silence lengthened. Finally, he threw his own observation into the conversation. “I admit; it is very peculiar that in seven centuries they didn't even try to recreate implants. They have their own version I heard, but …” Admiral Subert shook his head.
“I know, sir; I've seen an image. It's old tech,” Saul replied. Admiral Subert looked at him. “It's a rice-sized chip implanted into a limb, usually the right wrist area or the back of a hand. It is just for access, sir, completely passive—an RF tag.” He measured a small gap between his thumb and forefinger.
“Again, odd,” the admiral relied.
“Yes, sir.” Saul grimaced. “We know they have rudimentary cybernetic limbs. I've seen the initial conversation between their Admiral Toronto and Caroline. But …,” he shrugged helplessly.
“So, nanotech, implants, A.I …”
“They have some good gene engineers; I did pick that up in conversation. They've got Flea Leggers and others there. No aversion to that, but most of the changes are corrections to damage from radiation. It's not cosmetic or fashion,” he said.
“Of that I suppose we should be grateful,” Admiral Subert said. “I never did get into the social trends of altering your own or your progeny’s genetic code to suit a fashion trend,” he said. “Or to put one self through a series of life-altering changes for sport,” he growled.
“Agreed, sir.”
The admiral grunted. “I'm not sure what to make of it.” He shook his head. “Well, fortunately, most of them will be out of my hair and someone else's problem soon enough.”
Saul nodded. “Yes, sir.”
The admiral seemed to adjust himself for a moment, then he nodded curtly. “Okay, what else? I've got to get moving shortly. I need to make the evening rounds with the Z axis industrial centers before dinner.”
“Yes, sir. We've got some requests through ops for additional training. And we've had a few requests for live fire exercises. Most recent is a request to build sims or borrow ship tactical departments to simulate the Eastern Front. That's clashing with our current schedule of carrier ops sims going on at the Academy.”
The admiral grimaced. “Okay, so, we take them one by one I suppose …”
~<><{<^>}><>~
Despite reaming Doctor Taylor out, Admiral Subert put his foot down and insisted Zek and the other Bekian officers who were atavistically holding out get their full implants and keys in a timely manner.
He finally called Admiral Zekowitz in for a face-to-face despite the rear admiral having gone through a round of surgery. “We need to get this Bek mission off the ground Admiral. We're behind schedule and that is largely due to you, sir,” the admiral said, catching himself. He knew he was addressing an officer of the same rank as he was, and technically Pyrax was his command, but Zekowitz had him by time-in-grade. So officially he ranked Subert as senior officer.
But both men were professional enough to handle the sticky situation or at least stay out of each other's hair. At least, up until now Zek thought to himself. He realized guiltily that he had indeed been holding up the works. Procrastinating, he thought.
“Lieutenant Taylor is no longer your doctor. He's been reassigned to other duties so you don't have to worry about that.”
“He meant well I guess,” Zek said in a neutral tone of voice or as close as he could force himself to achieve. He nodded once. “I'll get it done.”
“Good. Get it done all at once. Stop pussyfooting around, take the plunge and get it over with. If you have to recover on Caroline, that's fine.”
“I'll consider it,” Zek said stubbornly.
Admiral Subert eyed him and then nodded slowly. “Fine then.”
~<><{<^>}><>~
Zek check out the tactical department a
t the academy while doing homework between classes. He was still interested in the more advanced courses and had managed to figure out how to download them so he could audit them while in transit. He'd found that the academy had recorded every lecture and course and was sending it on Caroline with them to help get Bek's academy up to speed and in sync. He was fairly certain the lectures by Admiral Irons as well as the ancient ones they had on file would be highly popular there as they were in Pyrax and Antigua.
He looked up to watch a sim's progress. He was not thrilled that it was a carrier force sim; carriers just didn't appeal to him like a battle fleet sim did. He understood it though; they were building carriers in Pyrax instead of full wallers or other ships.
It made it easier; it meant Antigua only had to ship hyperdrives and the components that couldn't be built in Pyrax. But they were still building ships up to and including battle cruisers. He wasn't certain for how long though.
So it made sense in some way that they were focused on carrier ops in Pyrax. He wondered if they were focusing on battle fleet tactics in Antigua? What about Bek? Bek had both branches but focused mainly on the battle fleet since they didn't have the modern systems that the Federation fighters seemed to rely on. He frowned thoughtfully. Once they made changes, would the academy follow suit? He hoped so.
He got a ping on his implants. He jumped, startled, and then swore under his breath as he tried to remember how to answer the internal text. He managed to open it after a couple tries and then read it. It was a reminder from the lieutenant that he had to be in class in a half hour.
He nodded, closed the file, and then got up. He gathered his things and then murmured apologies quietly to the other observers as he made his way out.
