Enemy of my Enemy (Horatio Logan Chronicles Book 1)

by Chris Hechtl

  He would have to tread carefully, take small steps. Make small recommendations, minor tweaks like Alice was doing. If enough people became interested, it might break the monolithic logjam blocking him. But small steps he reminded himself firmly.

  “A little bit goes a long way,” he murmured as Pietro texted him about the arrival of a Veraxin Lieutenant Commander came into the outer office.

  “Sir, he's here to take over. Apparently, they want us out by lunch,” Pietro said.

  “Okay,” Horatio said as he rose. “Pack up. Did you get a head count on who we can take with us?” he asked.

  “The yeoman, sir. That's it,” Pietro warned.

  “Very well,” Horatio said, adjusting the hem of his jacket. He went around the office and gathered his things as the commander scuttled into the room. “Commander, I'm surprised to be moving out. Apparently, someone is excited,” he said.

  “Yes, sir. Sir, I relieve you,” the commander stated formally.

  “I stand relieved,” Horatio said as he finished gathering up his few possessions he'd allowed himself in the office. “Good luck.”

  “To you as well, sir,” the commander replied as Horatio exited the compartment.

  ~<><{<^>}><>~

  Rear Admiral Bolt marched himself through the corridors to report to Ops. He didn't like having to do it, but when a senior officer ordered you to report, you did so. Even if you were an admiral as well.

  He was fairly confident that no one knew that he was actually semi on Commodore Logan's side. But he had to be hard on Thistle to test him and because Childress's cronies were watching. Hence, the current meeting he thought as he made his way into the outer office.

  He had to keep a low profile and play lip service to the current bastards in charge of the military he thought as he cooled his heels in the outer office. After five minutes, the yeoman nodded to him. “You can go in now, sir,” he said.

  He nodded and went into the office. He marched smartly up to the vice admiral's desk and then came to attention.

  “Everything going okay where you are at, Bolt?” the red Chimera asked mildly as he scanned the screen on one corner of his desk. “Your personnel doing fine? I noticed your newest has already put in for a transfer. That must be a record even for you,” he said.

  Admiral Bolt's ears flattened briefly. He was clearly nettled by that revelation but tried not to take it personally. “Yes, sir. Thistle.”

  “Based on your reports, he doesn't shirk his duty, none of them do,” Admiral Draken mused thoughtfully.

  “No, sir. They are all outstanding officers. I'd love to keep him.”

  “Careful there, Admiral,” Admiral Draken said, eyeing the Neomutt.

  “It's true. I know he's put in for a transfer. They all do …”

  “You do go through a lot of personnel, Bolt. Like shit through a goose is what N'r'm'll said,” Admiral Draken replied dryly.

  “Not everyone is suited to handle inventory control, sir, nor quantity and quality monitoring. They do a half-ass job and I have to land on them hard. He's good,” the dog said mulishly. “Surprisingly good. He's taken everything I've thrown at him and done it.”

  “Right,” the vice admiral drawled. Bolt hadn't been placed in his position because of his good looks and skills. He was a hard charger, one who barely played the political game that was Draken's field. “Wait, you said quality control as well?” he demanded, eyeing the dog.

  Bolt shrugged, and his ears twitched. If the vice admiral hadn't been so large, he would have only seen the ear twitches from just above the edge of his desk. “He finished inventory in record time. I spot-checked him; he did it by the numbers. He caught some stuff missing too,” the Neodog said grudgingly. “He caught every test I threw at him too,” he admitted.

  “A wonder boy. Joy,” the admiral murmured.

  “Sir …”

  “Relax, I'm not approving his transfer,” the vice admiral said. “Contrary to popular opinion, we're not in this to run a popularity contest. He needs to stay professional and do the job.”

  “Which he is, sir,” the Neodog said, ears back. He could understand Thistle's attitude, but …

  “How insubordinate is he?”

  “He's not verbal, sir. I can sense it. It is increasing in his manner. But he's not lashing out at the personnel or the inventory. He resents the detail. I admit I might have pushed it by having run a full inventory three times in less than a week,” Bolt said with another ear flick.

  “Three times …,” Admiral Draken slowly chuckled. “My, my,” he said after the rumbled quieted. “No wonder he wants out. Don't push it to the point where he resigns his commission, Bolt.”

  “Sir? I thought you wanted him out?” Admiral Bolt asked, cocking his head.

  Admiral Draken shook his head. “No. Not with his experience and certainly not with the keys he's holding in his head. We may need them some day. Ease up a bit. You've had your fun; you know he can play.”

  “Sir, are you telling me how to run my command? Micromanaging?” Bolt asked, eyebrows narrowed and ears back.

  “Now who's being insubordinate?” Admiral Draken asked mildly. That instantly cooled the Neodog's ire. His face schooled into a mask. “Better. No, I'm telling you, don't be an ass and don't push your people away. We might need him in the future.”

  “Aye aye, Admiral,” the rear admiral replied dutifully.

  ~<><{<^>}><>~

  After the rear admiral had departed, Admiral Draken sat back and rocked in his chair from side to side as he thought about the situation. He'd let the other commander, Walengrad, have her head on Albacore to see what she could do. She'd had her hands virtually tied, but she'd still pulled off a 2 percent increase in efficiency of the ship's systems, which was nothing to sneeze at. And she'd pulled it off without any additional hardware, just her own knowledge base. That was surprising. A lot of it had to do with some of the software and electronic changes she'd made but not all of it.

  Of course, they could land on her and her ship for making unauthorized changes. It was tempting. He could drum her out as Childress wanted, but he didn't want that. He'd come to realize that with a little guidance he could steer the outsiders into using their skills for his benefit as well as that of the navy's.

  Thistle's inventory catches were another example. One of his personnel had been transferred. No one knew it, but Thistle's inventory discrepancy had uncovered a black market ring stealing naval parts. Spacer Keves had been one of the longest-serving spacers in the warehouses. It now made sense why; the Gashg had been supplementing his income and spitting in the eye of the navy for some time. He was safely cocooned while NCIS and JAG built a case against him and traced his contacts. From what he'd read, they didn't need his cooperation; the Gashg had been careless about his contacts, quite possibly lowering his guard when he had thought he wouldn't get caught.

  So a minor black market ring exposed and systematically being torn apart, a ship about to drub its competitors and set them to wondering how they did it, and Logan's antics with his naval design earning the interest of some powerful players in the supplier club.

  He frowned thoughtfully, tapping his chin before he finally nodded. He knew Omar wouldn't like it. In fact, the senior officer might have a snit, but if he transferred Horatio to a temporary duty as a consultant, he could scratch a few backs, get them off his own, and put the commodore to more useful work.

  Which might just help him in the long run, he thought as he turned to his keyboard and began to type.

  ~<><{<^>}><>~

  Horatio found the new job just as boring as he'd expected. Picking through the logistics inventory hadn't been easy. He'd managed to get a copy, and then compared it when he'd gotten a hold of Commander Thistle through Pietro.

  Pietro was serving as a useful go-between, technically what a flag lieutenant was supposed to be. He'd hand delivered a copy of Mercury to a crew member of Albacore on liberty for Alice, then he'd gotten a copy of the logistics manifest
s from Weaver for them to compare.

  There had been some discrepancies, most of them minor. Horatio had noted that the Bekians had kept standards and equipment designs modular, scalable, and uniform as much as possible. That simplified some of the logistics and production he noted in approval.

  He liked the new office, though it was a virtual clone of his most recently vacated one. What got to him the most was the size of his staff, which had been tripled, and the access to computer support. They had to file a request to use the mainframes but having access to them made their jobs easier.

  With the two lists and his own internal lists, it only took a bit of work to write a script bot that would pick through them to identify the parts and pieces of equipment that had crossover potential. Once the bot generated the report, the staff would go over it by hand and compare tolerance specs and such in more detail.

  There were a lot of false hits of course. But after the first week, he was confident enough in how far along they were to do a little moonlighting with the mainframe.

  During their time together on Caroline, the team had managed to work on a couple of interesting side projects using Mercury. They hadn't been able to process the designs though since the light cruiser's computers had been needed to run the ship. Besides, they were warship computers, lacking the software needed to analyze the designs.

  One of the most interesting projects Zek had signed off on was a hypercapable mobile repair ship built off of the general frame design of a Bekian support ship. There was even one that was currently in dock according to the inventory Weaver had passed over to him.

  The architect computers couldn't simulate a hyperspace run. They were powerful but lacked the customary tools he needed for the job. And Mercury didn't have them, which was a problem. But he could and did upload Mercury into a series of servers then break the design down into components the A.I. could handle. Each section would be checked by the A.I. for compatibility, wear, fit, and such.

  If he had time, he intended to see if Mercury could draw in the ODN control runs, fuel, plasma conduits, low power lines, water, thermal waste, and other veins and arteries of the ship, then run it past a few experts in the department.

  If he had time, he reminded himself.

  The second week on the job found him introduced to the industrial conference. He wasn't surprised to be relegated to what he privately thought of as the kiddy table. There were civilian contractors involved. He had checked their clearances carefully. He wasn't happy about it, but he had to work with them.

  The “adults,” i.e., Admiral Childress and the CEOs and such, would make the broad sweeping decisions in a week's time. The peons like Horatio and the others would have to come up with the proposals for them to read and then tamper with or ultimately reject.

  Right off Horatio knew it wasn't going to be an easy process. The contractors all had an axe to grind, an agenda they wanted to follow. Some attempted to browbeat the others into submission.

  His job wasn't to referee or even interface with them unless he was asked. So, he got to listen as they argued about making parasite craft. Some want to build them or the parts in quantity and then ship them to the outer Federation. Horatio was drawn in to be an observer on the discussion and to be tapped for his knowledge of what was needed in the outer Federation.

  He did his best to be quiet and on his best behavior. It wasn't easy however.

  If they'd just followed Admiral Irons' plan, there wouldn't be a problem nor need of such meetings he thought. But he'd come to realize protesting was useless. Instead he went along with it to feel the various players out and get to know them. He needed contacts.

  “It's something we can make in quantity, and we've got plenty of experience. Once we get loans to retool …,” a Veraxin exec for Snipclick Enterprises said. The bug was instantly drowned out as other members offered their support or countered his statement with their own positions.

  He knew a few of the names, but not all. They didn't introduce themselves to him; he'd overheard them. He was a uniformed flunky it seemed, there to be seen and not heard. When they broke into clichés for lunch, they invariably left him behind.

  Horatio cocked his head as he listened to the current argument. They had some points, like that their production lines were marginally closer to Pyrax than Antigua's were. They also had tons of experience. The problem was they didn't believe in applying updates to modernize themselves to fully utilize that experience. They weren't willing to retrain their workforce either, and they were highly inefficient, employing thousands of people to do what was essentially make-work. That was wasteful. Didn't they know there was a war on? He thought to himself.

  He'd seen the fighters and shuttles they were putting forward. They didn't make sense; none were as capable as the craft currently in the marine and navy inventory. The fighters were one step above the crappy kit thing Junior Valdez had used during the aftermath of the battle of Pyrax and a little below that of a Raptor! He shook his head silently as he looked at the model some slick marketing rep passed around.

  Inevitably the argument turned to why they weren't building carriers and starships yet. That told him not everyone was happy with the policies the people in power were putting forward and sticking to.

  ~<><{<^>}><>~

  “He's good, damn good. We've got a solid list. Less than 20 percent of what Admiral Irons ordered, but it should suffice to keep him at bay for awhile,” Vice Admiral Creator of Things, the T'clock head of BuShips said.

  “I see. And the commodore?”

  “He's also good. I've seen the side project he's working on. I have to admit, I'm impressed.”

  “Side project?” Admiral Childress demanded.

  “Yes, ahem,” the T'clock seemed upset that he'd brought it up. His antenna bobbed as he got control of himself. “Apparently, the commodore had come up with a design to build a tender, a hyperspace capable one, using only parts we have on hand here. That includes a frame we have. I'm fascinated by it. It will definitely go a ways to help us with several projects down the road, including the tasking to build the Harbor Station in B-102c,” the bug said.

  “I see,” Admiral Draken said thoughtfully. He glanced at his boss out of the corner of his eye. He could tell Omar wasn't happy about the distraction. “He managed both tasks? At the same time?”

  “Yes, as I said, he's quite good. I wish I had ten more just like him,” the T'clock said.

  “The hell you do,” Admiral Childress muttered darkly.

  “Sir?” the T'clock asked.

  “Never mind. I want him transferred back to his old post pronto,” the admiral stated, looking at Admiral N'r'm'll.

  “Yes, sir. He has fulfilled his purpose I suppose,” the Veraxin agreed.

  “That will put him back in his place,” Admiral Childress muttered.

  Admiral Creator of Things bobbed his antenna but didn't reply. He decided he rather liked the commodore. He couldn't come out and support him, not without compromising his present position, but he would silently allow him to continue his side project, at a reduced status of course. After all, the architectural computers were hardly used as of late. The last two class designs had been completed over three years prior, and since Caroline's arrival, no new designs had come forward.

  “Next subject,” Admiral Childress said, eyeing Admiral Draken.

  The red Chimera nodded once. “Yes, sir. We've got a series of gunnery exercises coming up and the fleet competitions to plan for, also, the holiday parades. We've also received confirmation of receipt of the orders from all stations and ships in Bek B …”

  ~<><{<^>}><>~

  When the conference ended, he felt like they'd made progress, but he hadn't. One step forward, two steps back apparently. He'd been returned to his old job without comment. Not even a job well done, which bugged him a bit.

  They weren't ready to completely shut him out anymore however. A few days after his return some openings opened up in the yard due to the shuffling arou
nd, and Horatio was finally tagged to fill one of them. It was another menial job back at the bottom, overseeing a small staff shuffling paperwork, but it got his foot in the door. But he still had access to the architectural department's servers and mainframe. He'd garnered enough interest to allow him to continue his little side project as a design study.

  But that was all.

  He was dismayed to find his job was indeed one of the worst in the navy as far as paperwork was concerned. He knew that everyone joked about the navy floating on paperwork and coffee, but he wasn't so much floating as drowning in the paperwork.

  It was SOP that the navy did things in triplicate, one electronic copy and two paper or plastic film copies of every file. Each had to be in synch which was a pain in the posterior. It was his department's job to make sure each copy matched up.

  Horatio hated the job right away, but at least it gave him something of a staff and helped him to make some contacts. It also allowed him to put Olson's staff skills to use. The young man seemed eager to prove his worth.

  Their implants helped to process the paperwork at an accelerated pace. When that was realized, he found more paperwork routed to them until they were practically drowning in it.

  Apparently, the answer to doing a good job was being punished with more and more crap until they couldn't handle the load anymore and broke. Olson showed signs of strain right away, but Horatio grimly hung on and did what he could to alleviate the mess he'd found himself in.

  ~<><{<^>}><>~

  First thing in the morning, First Lieutenant Talia Fazim was added to commodore Logan's growing staff. She made her way through the offices and drawing tables with an air of confidence some would envy.

  She was a beautiful human, blond, practically sculpted as a siren to seduce her targets. She practically strutted into the ship architect offices once she had her orders in hand.

  She breezed past the empty yeoman's desk but was caught short when she entered the commodore's office to report for duty and found he was with Lieutenant Olson. “Welcome aboard, Lieutenant,” Commodore Logan said as the young woman came to attention and saluted. He returned the salute.