Enemy of my Enemy (Horatio Logan Chronicles Book 1)

by Chris Hechtl

  Zek did an about-face and then marched out. He didn't need his implants to tell the admiral was positively thrilled with malice behind his back.

  He met Lieutenant Si on his way out. One look at his expression was all she needed to know that it hadn't gone well. She'd expected as much. She simply nodded and fell in behind him.

  ~<><{<^>}><>~

  It took an entire shift for Zek and Lieutenant Si to get to the academy. Along the way, he researched his old notes and the course syllabuses he'd taken. He created an outline and ran it past the lieutenant for her input, then submitted it as an initial course syllabus.

  He had expected to find the Pyraxian commanders there already. He was too high a rank to be teaching directly. He shouldn't have to, but the powers that be had to be nasty about it. They didn't find a guide waiting for them at the academy, which wasn't much of a surprise since they'd arrived during the academy's night cycle.

  While he'd been working on the syllabus, Lieutenant Si had researched where they were to go and had quietly directed them to his billet. They'd stored his and her gear there and then headed to the office.

  Admiral Zekowitz checked the rolls when he was seated in the office. The room was comfortable and covered in exploded images of hardware, just like he'd remembered. He found he had a couple staff, most of them enlisted or noncoms. Obviously they were all sleeping or off duty. He wondered briefly if they even knew he was now in command.

  When he checked on Commander Thistle and Walengrad, he found that they hadn't been reassigned along with him. Instead they had been kept in their current postings.

  He grimaced. He'd already known about Thistle's peccadillo in the warehouses. Apparently, the powers that be wanted to rub someone else's nose in the situation as well or Admiral Bolt hadn't wanted to let him go.

  He winced at that. Weaver wasn't known as a teacher, but he would be infinitely better off at the academy than in the warehouse sulking and slowly stewing in discontent. He shook his head. Obviously though it wasn't up to him.

  Commander Walengrad had really found her niche on Albacore. She seemed to fit in well there. He'd heard that ship had been the source of some changes in the cruisers … now he knew why.

  “Are we completely on our own?” he demanded.

  “So far, yes, sir. Lieutenant V'l'r is here somewhere, sir. I can check on the others in the morning, sir,” Lieutenant Si said dispiritedly.

  He glanced at her, grunted and then nodded. It was clear from her soft tone that he wasn't the only one taking the transfer hard. “Okay, plan to check on them in the morning. In the meantime, I need a list of the hardware from those classes—what they've got in the labs and what we'll need. We'll have to compare them. Obviously I'm going to need extra computer support and models. That'll mean 3D prints of components for the students to have some hands-on experience.”

  “To scale, sir? I don't think that's possible at the moment,” Lieutenant Si said. She looked up at the ceiling. “I'm pulling the requested files now. Inventory is old though, sir,” she warned. “I've got the applications open as well. I thought you'd want to start by meeting your new staff and professors, sir?” she asked.

  He nodded. “We will. Shoot that e-mail out now. I want them here an hour before classes start. We'll keep it brief. I know most of them already,” he said. She nodded. “We'll have to play it by ear on the changes. I know there are a lot, but we can't disrupt things this late.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “So, work on that inventory. We'll work on a to do list. Find the morning yeoman and wake them up and get them in here now. We need to hit the ground running,” he ordered.

  “Aye aye, sir. Breakfast … I'll order your usual in,” she said.

  “Good idea. I think I'm going to be chained to this desk for awhile,” Zek said with a rueful sigh.

  ~<><{<^>}><>~

  As dawn broke on the academy campus, Zek checked the news. The media had been watching him, and the navy's public affairs department had been ready with a story. However, instead of ripping them for dumping him at the academy, the story on why Zek had been transferred to the academy was buried in the news cycle. “There is no justice,” he murmured in discontent.

  “The admiral's transfer is so that he can pass on the knowledge he has picked up in Pyrax to a new generation of talented engineers,” Captain Prescott stated with a beautiful smile.

  Zek shook his head in disgust and shut the screen off just as his staff and professors began to trickle into the outer office.

  “Time to shape some minds,” he muttered.

  ~<><{<^>}><>~

  “Now is obviously not the time. We'd just make an even bigger mess and confuse an already explosive situation,” Doctor Bright Petal said with a human style shake of her massive heart-shaped head. “I know I for one am not happy about the coup. I'm betting most of you feel the same way,” she said, eyeing the others as her antennas and mandibles moved.

  “Not a coup per say, at least, not yet. It's a … okay, it is, but it isn't. Happy?” Morgan Tanaka asked sarcastically.

  “From the lawyer that is cute. I'm not sure what to do about it.”

  “Nothing. There is nothing we can do I'm afraid,” Doctor Windswept interjected sagely. “Condemning the navy for its actions would only cause a bigger rift to form and muddle the situation given that Childress is now conforming to part of the orders he had been given. All we can do is observe at this point.”

  “True,” Doctor Bright Petal said, clearly unhappy about the problem.

  “And it is our fault,” Doctor Tron Fuyata said. All eyes turned to the engineer. “I'm serious and you know it. Childress's attitude partially stems from our own actions in manipulating the historical record.” he sniffed. “Some observers we are! We meddled in the time stream in order to suit our own ends. Now it is biting everyone in the ass.”

  “We did it out of the best of intentions to forge a better future by learning from the past,” Doctor Ch'k'll'r'll said.

  “What's that? I remember a certain path paved with those,” Tron said, eyes narrowed at the Veraxin.

  That snarky retort clearly didn't sit well with the Veraxin from her body language. “Touché',” was all the bug said in reply.

  “No, no, Tron is right. The burnt hand. We've all been over this. We didn't want our people to make the same mistakes twice. That was why we destroyed or banned research in some avenues. It was for their own protection. After all, we thought we were the last,” Doctor Willard Halfinger pointed out. “Which was why we manipulated the record as we did.” The Neochimp doctor rarely spoke, but when he did the others listened. “I don't regret my actions for they are in the past.”

  “That's precisely the problem. And oh, by the way, not regretting a crime doesn't play well in court,” Morgan said with a shake of her head. “We created a false history with the whisper campaign of an accident with nanotechnology. It has persisted and undermined every attempt to start over,” she said. “All fine and dandy I suppose. And we forged the stories to create a climate to scare people into not exploring A.I.”

  “Yes, yes, we all know this,” Doctor Abe Norris interrupted in disgust. “We've been over it so many times,” he said in exasperation. “Let's move on, I'm fossilizing here,” he growled testily.

  “Some things bear repeating. Especially with us since we are old and tend to forget,” Morgan said, clearly nettled by the rebuke.

  “But we didn't expect the direction things were going with Nuevo. How they were exploited. How they must hate us!” Doctor Ch'k'll'r'll said, shaking her head.

  “We never did this to make friends. We did it to save a sliver of civilization,” Abe said caustically. “Which we did,” he said lifting his chin. “I for one have nothing to be ashamed of. I'm prepared to meet my makers with that,” he said.

  “You might be, but we need to find a solution to this problem. The forbidden tech is too intertwined with what they need to do to take a step forward onto the galactic stage,” Mo
rgan pointed out. “At this point we are the largest population. We are on the cusp of being the new center of civilization,” she said. “Shouldn't we make the most of that?”

  “You mean exploit it?” Doctor Ch'k'll'r'll demanded. “Exploit the unfortunate events that has left most of the rest of the galaxy destitute and in the dark ages?”

  Morgan shrugged. “Why not?”

  “Like Nuevo? Remember how they hate us? Didn't we just say that?” Tron asked, confused.

  “Yes, yes, we did. Wake up, you old fart. You are slipping, Tron,” Abe said in exasperation. He turned to the others. “The problem is, people in Bek wanted to cherry-pick what they want to use, but they can't have it all. You need some technology in order to make equipment for other branches. It's like that argument we had about having modern medicine but not having the tools to make the equipment for it or to maintain it,” he pointed out.

  “True,” Willard agreed.

  “We're at the tools to make the tools stage all over again. I'd say we need to help them navigate it, but I think our time has passed. I think we need to step aside and let them forge their own future on their own.”

  “To let them stand on their own? Nice given that we didn't give them a proper foundation to do so,” Tron argued.

  “We'll have to do something about that or Irons will,” Doctor Windswept stated flatly. “Then our reputations really will be destroyed,” she said.

  The others nodded glumly at that thought.

  “And Childress?”

  There was an uncomfortable long silence when Tron put that question out there. After a few moments, Willard cleared his throat. “I … think he's out of our hands,” he said heavily. “I don't see a course of action to deal with him. None that work at any rate,” he said.

  “Mum? Are you okay?” a soft familiar voice asked tentatively from behind her.

  Doctor Windswept opened her eyes and then turned to look over her shoulder to the Neodog. “Yes, fine,” she murmured, staring at her caretaker. The Neo lab had her ears back with a sorrowful expression on her face. She wondered briefly what was bothering her.

  “It's just you've been talking to yourself for some time,” nurse Jenkins said, dry washing her hands in apparent nervous agitation.

  “I'm fine,” the High Elf said. She shrugged such thoughts aside as she sat back in her chair and looked out to the view beyond. It certainly looked odd for her to be talking to herself out on her balcony, but she wasn't alone. The conference with her friends was virtual since some of them were bedridden. It just looked wrong from an outside observer who didn't know any better. Clearly the nurse didn't. “I've been having a discussion. Do not be concerned,” she said airily, fluttering a skeletal thin hand. She knew the Neodog didn't understand that the old High Elf had implants and was using them to communicate with the others or to access the net. To her she was acting with increasing dementia.

  “Very well, mum,” the Neodog murmured. She took the empty tray and retreated.

  “I am back. Sorry about that,” the historian said. “What'd I miss?” she asked. She smiled as the Neodog looked on from behind her in the open French doors.

  ~<><{<^>}><>~

  Horatio again checked out what the Bekians considered entertainment while he waited for Admiral Zekowitz to show up. The admiral was supposed to show him the academy campus. He flipped through the channels, disdaining the chat and news for something else. Since it was a Saturday, there were planetary and extra solar sports. He invariably honed in on the racing circuit. There was something to be said about people who put vehicles together and others who used their skills to bring them to their fullest potential.

  Or wreck them spectacularly.

  The same could be said about robots. They were telepresence robots, and the audience seemed to love seeing them tear each other apart with wild abandon. He could see the thrill in destruction. It was an instinctive thing in most organics, especially predators and omnivores, but as an engineer he was appalled by the carnage. Though he had to admit the sport did encourage and inspire youth into exploring engineering.

  The space race circuit was down for the time being, off season. He searched until he found of all things a ground race. Not a hover one, but of honest injun, ground car one with actual tires. He watched, fascinated as they raced around an oval track, but eventually got bored with the repetitive nature of the course.

  He frowned and used his implants to open a window and look the race up. When the vehicles went into the pit, he cocked his head, paying half attention to the nattering on of the announcers as the pit crews tore at the cars. He finally found what he was looking for when he found them swapping capacitors.

  He nodded. Tires wore out. The cars didn't use fuel; they were all electric. They had can-sized capacitors that were plugged into the rear deck.

  “What are you watching?” Admiral Zekowitz asked, startling him.

  He blinked and looked at the admiral. “Sorry, you didn't answer your door,” Zek said.

  Horatio frowned but didn't complain about the intrusion. He nodded his chin to the wall screen. “Ground car racing.”

  Zek turned to look and then nodded. “Ah,” he said watching for a moment. He took a seat and shook his head. Horatio looked at him curiously. “It used to be good. Now it's all about them making another left turn and not getting into a wreck.”

  He sounded a bit put out over that, Horatio thought.

  “Don't get me wrong, they are okay. The pilots, excuse me, drivers I mean,” Zek said. “But it used to be about innovation and riding the edge—innovation and skill. The innovation usually cross-pollinated to public and even military hardware from time to time.”

  “But not now?” Horatio asked.

  Zek shook his head, clearly disgusted. “No. Now it is about conformity, a level playing field and safety. I get safety, but …,” he shook his head. “They say it is all about the skill of the driver and the pit crew,” he indicated the columns of vehicles. “Really? If everyone has the same car, they bunch up like this. And with what, six laps …” Just as he said that a spectacular wreck unfolded as one driver bumped another in the rear, and the bumped car went out of control. It spun about, tearing up the other cars around who frantically tried to get out of the way and invariably hit other cars. “Demolition derby,” Zek said. “Satisfying in its own way, but …,” he shrugged as some of the cars went high and rebounded off the wall, others low to hit the safety barriers there.

  Horatio estimated a dozen cars had been taken out by that little maneuver. The destruction appalled him in some ways.

  “There is no skill in that,” Zek said. “See? Good drivers get caught up in the works. All it does is thin out the field, which I suppose is a good thing,” he said as the lights turned yellow, and the emergency vehicles arrived on the scene. They watched the screen split into four with various views of the accident as it happened.

  “Come on. You downloaded the map to the academy?” Zek asked, slapping his thighs as he got up.

  “Yes,” Horatio said rising as well. He sent a mental signal to shut the wall screen off.

  Zek turned as the screen blipped out. He looked at Horatio then snorted. “I'm still getting used to that,” he said shaking his head.

  “It takes time. The more you do it, the easier and more natural it becomes,” Horatio said. “Have you practiced logging into equipment?”

  Zek shook his head as they exited the apartment. “I haven't had the opportunity. I'm surprised you used the wall screen at all though. You could have just downloaded the video, right?”

  “I could, but you have to find a balance,” Horatio admitted. “It is easier on your neurons to watch the video on a wall screen.”

  “Even if you get eye strain?”

  “Well, we're working on the cure for that now,” Horatio said, indicating the lift. He smiled politely to a family as they loaded in. “We'll take the next one,” he said.

  “Good gravy, yes,” Zek said, rolling his eye
s after the door closed. He snorted. “You saw that kid?”

  Horatio cracked a smile. “The one with the sticky hands? The one who wiped them on his sister's back?”

  “And took a swipe at his mom … what a hellion,” Zek said, shaking his head. “I'd just as soon not get to the academy all sticky,” he said with a snort.

  “True,” Horatio said as the light turned green and the doors opened to a fresh empty car. The two men stepped in and then turned to face the doors. Horatio reached out and hit the lobby button and then waited for the doors to close.

  “So, you wanted me to go to the academy because …?”

  “I arranged some sim time. I figured we can use it to get some practice in. I know you are a bit rusty,” he said with a grin to Horatio.

  Horatio snorted. There had to be something more than that to it, but he nodded slowly. Most likely there would be an audience of some sort. “Well, I'll try to give you a good drubbing, sir,” he said.

  “Respectful but cheeky. Nicely played,” Zek said in a mock admiring tone as the lift bumped to a stop softly. The doors opened. “Looser buys lunch,” he said.

  “Deal,” Horatio agreed. “So how goes the academy?” he asked.

  Zek exhaled heavily. “Don't ask,” he said in a less playful tone as they strode through the lobby. Horatio flicked his implants to the desk log and entered that he was leaving and where he was going. He didn't even break stride as they got to the exit door. “You …”

  Horatio smiled and tapped his forehead.

  “Of course you did. Great,” Zek growled as they pushed themselves through the doors and into the parking garage. “I think your skills are giving you an unfair advantage,” he said in a mock sour tone of voice.

  “And your years of experience is giving you what?” Horatio retaliated with a smirk.

  “Touché,” Zek replied softly as they got to his car in the VIP parking area.

  ~<><{<^>}><>~

  “If I didn't say it before, I'm sorry. Sorry things didn't work out. Sorry you got stuck where you are,” Horatio said quietly, eyeing the rear admiral. “I know things could have gone better. I tried to behave, honest,” he said.