“Good man,” Lynch clapped him on the shoulder just as the yacht audibly made contact with the docking arm with the unique screech of duralloy grinding against iron.
“What I’m saying, Captain Archibald,” McKnight reiterated, fighting to keep the exasperation from her voice, “is that we have two technicians who each have sufficient skill to not only access and make use of the virtual network here on Capital, but whose skill with Mr. Fei’s ComStat program may prove invaluable to maintaining open lines of communication between us here in Sector 24.”
Archibald leaned across his desk, and in spite of the increasingly confrontational nature of the meeting McKnight was glad they had opted to have the meeting on the Gamer Gate rather than on her newly-christened Destroyer. “And I’m saying that the death of our third technician, Mr. Jarrett, was an inexcusable event which needs to be addressed,” he retorted heavily.
“It was either an industrial accident or a case of Jarrett and the others getting in over their heads on an unfamiliar world,” McKnight lied, flavoring her voice with anger. “He and his teammates were working to secure another piece of high-powered comm. gear for our ship. It was a mission-critical assignment—end of story.”
Archibald shook his head, “We haven’t even gotten this thing off the ground and we’ve taken casualties—at port, no less. We’re going to have to answer for that.”
“Yes we are,” McKnight agreed animatedly, “but until we do, I think we should focus on keeping the resources still at our disposal safe and capable of contributing to the mission.”
He looked like he wanted to argue, but Archibald reluctantly nodded his head. “Fine…we’ll put this on the backburner. What’s this I hear about your Sundered taking off with that Cutter?”
“I already forwarded my report on that to you,” McKnight said with genuine irritation. “That ship did not belong to the MSP, and Yide decided it was best for him and his sister to take their ship and make a new life for themselves.”
“The Admiral won’t be pleased,” Archibald said pointedly.
“I’m sure he won’t,” McKnight retorted, “but frankly that’s not my problem. That ship belonged to Yide’s family; that was made perfectly clear to Admiral Montagne during my report.”
“That sounds like borderline insubordination,” her counterpart said with narrowed eyes.
“And if I fail in this mission, I’m sure you’ll report me for it,” she said dismissively, glad that she had managed to deflect his attention from her ‘dead’ and ‘departed’ operatives. “But until then I think we should go over my first operation—“
The com-link attached to her uniform’s collar chimed, cutting her off mid-sentence. She had told her crew not to disturb her unless it was of extreme importance, so she held up a finger apologetically.
“Excuse me,” she said to Captain Archibald before activating the link. “McKnight here: go.”
“I’m sorry ma’am,” the Comm. stander said, “but I’ve got a priority communiqué coming in via the local ComStat network.”
McKnight’s throat tightened reflexively, and she saw Archibald stiffen upon hearing the nature of the interruption. “Is it the Admiral?” she asked when the stander failed to explain further.
“No, ma’am,” the stander said hesitantly before once again going silent.
“If this is some kind of joke, I can assure you it’s both poorly conceived and badly timed,” McKnight growled. “Spit it out, Comm.”
“It’s of a sensitive nature, ma’am,” the stander said anxiously. “I didn’t know if I should forward the line to you or just report on it.”
McKnight quirked an eyebrow as she considered who, other than the Admiral, might be sending a secure transmission along ComStat lines. It took a few seconds for her to surmise who was on the other end of the line, and when she did realize it she said, “It’s all right, Comm. Forward the message.”
“It’s from Mr. Lynch, ma’am,” the stander explained quickly. “He’s got a low-res AV feed open on the local ComStat hub. Should I forward it to the Gate’s Comm. section?”
McKnight looked to Archibald, who nodded eagerly and contacted his own Comm. Officer so they would be prepared to accept the incoming transmission. “We’re ready over here, Comm.,” McKnight said after Archibald had given her the thumbs up.
“Forwarding now, Captain,” the stander reported.
A few seconds later, Captain Archibald’s DI interface chimed and he gestured for McKnight to come around to his side of the desk. She did so and input her personal ComStat access codes to the station. A moment later, Mr. Lynch’s features appeared on the screen.
“McKnight,” Lynch greeted in a static-laden voice as the image stuttered and froze periodically, briefly falling out of sync with the audio as it did so, “I hear congratulations are in order for a well-earned promotion.”
McKnight was tempted to ask how Lynch had gained access to their sub-bands of the ComStat network, but she knew he was an enormously resourceful man—and he was over a century old, if their best information was accurate. Any man who managed to stay ahead of the Spine’s governments for that long would be a formidable opponent—and her desire to keep from making an enemy of him played no small part in the cordiality of her reply.
“What can we do for you, Mr. Lynch?” she asked.
“You’s a quick learner, McKnight,” he said with a broad grin. “I hear you plan on settin’ up shop in my backyard. It stings that you didn’t bother to send flowers first,” he snickered.
“I don’t know what you may or may not have heard,” she said defensively, fighting to keep a level tone, “but we’re just here to liaise with the Capital government—“
“No need to get touchy,” he interrupted tersely, “I ain’t here to piss up your leg. In fact, quite the opposite,” he leaned toward the pickup and flashed a mouthful of metal and gemstone teeth, “I got something I think might interest you.”
McKnight’s mind raced as she tried to come up with a reasonable counter, or some way to obfuscate her suddenly heightened interest. “You have to understand that, as an officer in the MSP, it is my duty to deal with piracy, theft, and other crimes in the space ways according to the Confederation’s charter. I’m here to promote the stability of the Spineward Sectors and to prevent abuses of power like those which have led to the latest conflicts.”
Lynch’s grin broadened, “Atta girl…you is a fast learner. I’ll make Capital tomorrow—we’ll be in touch.”
The line went dead and McKnight stood back from the station while Archibald looked on with a look of mild confusion as he asked, “What just happened?”
McKnight drew several steadying breaths as her nerves began to agitate and the pit of her stomach came alive with a thousand warring butterflies. “We just set up a meeting with the only person in the Spineward Sectors who harbors more ill will for the Raubachs than my crew does,” she explained, feeling no small thrill at the possibilities a working relationship with Lynch represented. She had no great love for the man or his chosen profession, but in her current line of work information was power—and Lynch seemed to have more of it than anyone else in this patch of the galaxy. “I assume you’ll want to be there?”
Archibald cocked his head dubiously. “Probably not,” he eventually replied, much to her surprise. He apparently saw that surprise on her face, and explained, “I doubt he would want me in the room, and there’s no small amount of value to be placed on plausible deniability where the MSP is concerned.”
McKnight’s respect for Archibald grew another notch after hearing his reasoning, and she nodded approvingly, “All right…I’ll brief you on it after.”
“That sounds good,” he nodded. “Should we take you back to your ship?”
McKnight shook her head. “It’s better to go back on the Gate and leave my ship one jump outside of Capital for now,” she mused. “I don’t want him knowing all of my cards just yet; the Gate’s been squawking MSP idents during the trek out
here from HQ. I’d prefer to keep our real strength a secret if possible.”
“Even from a potential ally?” he asked with open amusement.
“Especially from a potential ally,” she said severely. “Because the only difference between a potential ally and a proven enemy is how much damage they’ve already done to you.”
“That’s awfully cynical,” he sighed, “but appropriate under the circumstances. I’ll have my people cycle up our jump drive.”
“Good,” she nodded, “I’ll go brief my XO and be back in an hour.”
“You’ve done great work, Lieutenant,” Captain McKnight said as soon as she had finished reviewing Tiberius’ latest report. “We’ve got life support in the secondary zones, as well?” she asked with obvious surprise.
“Those compartments lie to the hull, so they will be dangerously chilly,” Tiberius warned, “but they’re fully pressurized and, aside from a few areas, they’ve been reinforced in the event of local breaches. It won’t be up to military specs, but it should be good enough to expedite any repairs in the affected areas.”
“And what of the insulation?” she pressed, driving straight to the heart of the matter.
“We’ve wrapped every occupancy zone with eight inches of flame-retarding insulation foam,” he explained, gesturing to the office’s haphazard bulkheads, “including this one. It will hardly pass as a stealth measure, but we should be able to trick a long range scan into thinking the ship is still crewed by Droids.”
“Outstanding,” she congratulated, signing the report on the slate before picking up the next. “Is your replacement ready to assume the post of Chief Engineer?” she asked after reading the second report.
This was the part of the meeting which caused Tiberius to be apprehensive. “I’ve narrowed the list down to two,” he said, deciding against beating around the bush. “But I haven’t yet made a formal decision.”
McKnight looked up from the data slate, and in the span of time it took her to do so her visage changed from one of relative warmth to one of cold disapproval. “Was I unclear in my instructions on this point, XO?” she asked, leaning back in her chair and waving the slate pointedly.
“You were not, ma’am,” he said stiffly. “But I can’t leave my department in the hands of anyone who’s incapable of carrying out the required—“
“I agreed—and still do agree,” she interrupted sharply, “but you were given ample time to find a replacement, Mr. Spalding. This isn’t exactly a good note to begin your new duties on, is it?”
He kept from wincing at her rebuke through sheer force of will. The truth was that he had tossed and turned for the past two weeks as he’d contemplated the choice before him. In truth, his choice was one between personal preference and professional duty—a choice which, when it had previously presented in its many forms, he had dealt with as effortlessly as he might deal with swapping out a faulty breaker.
“I’m leaving in three hours for Capital,” she said, prompting him to raise his eyebrows in surprise. “I should be back in a few days; when I return, either tender your official suggestion for the post of Chief Engineer or tender your resignation from your own. I’ve coddled your personal peccadillos more than I should have done, and when this ship disembarks for its next assignment, it will be leaving those obstacles in its wake—one way or another. Do I make myself clear?”
Stinging from the rebuke, Tiberius stood as his CO did likewise. “Yes, ma’am,” he said bitterly.
“Dismissed,” she said, returning the salute and gesturing for him to make use of the door.
Tiberius turned on his heel and did precisely as she had indicated he should, knowing he needed to put this particularly tangled mess of emotion and reason behind him as quickly as possible.
“Have a seat, Pen,” Tiberius gestured to the bench situated opposite where he leaned against a vertical support strut.
“Ok…” she said with faux apprehension as she clearly attempted to lighten the mood. After she had seated on the bench, she asked, “What’s this about, boss?”
“I’ve decided to give Horgan the job of Chief Engineer,” Tremblay said bluntly, watching her expression carefully as she first looked surprised, then resigned, and finally smiled as she usually did.
“Horgan is a great engineer,” she said approvingly. “It’ll be great working with him.”
“I didn’t arrive at this decision lightly,” Tiberius said neutrally, keeping his eyes fixed on her as he dropped the proverbial bomb, “but, in spite of your outscoring him on every test, he’s got the command experience and that’s going to matter.”
Her expression froze momentarily when he mentioned that she had outscored him on all of the tests. She had, in fact, failed to surpass his scores in every major field of examination to which he had subjected them. But her reaction was the final nail in the coffin of doubt he had harbored since tabulating those scores—she had sandbagged and performed poorly on purpose!
“If that’s your decision, I know it’s the right one for all of us,” she said cheerfully, her veneer of indomitable positivity returning to her countenance.
“Why did you sandbag the tests, Pen?” he asked abruptly.
She looked taken aback, “I…I don’t know what you mean.”
“You know blasted well what I mean,” he snapped. “You know more about wave form harmonics than the rest of us put together, but somehow you managed to underperform Horgan on a test?” He shook his head severely, “I don’t get it—but more importantly, I don’t like it. I thought I could depend on you.”
“You can!” she protested in alarm.
“I’m not so sure,” he countered. “I’m trying to establish a team in Engineering that can run this ship, and in order to do that I need my people performing at their best.”
“I am,” she said defiantly. “When have I ever failed to outwork our crewmates?”
“How about we start with your performance on that test?!” he snapped.
She winced and visibly backed down before saying, “That’s different…”
“Why?” he asked with equal parts exasperation and curiosity.
She looked down at her work boots for a long moment before finally lifting her eyes to meet his. “Isn’t it obvious?” she whispered as she held his gaze firmly with her own.
He furrowed his brow in confusion. “Honestly, Pen, I can’t for the life of me figure out why you wouldn’t want to be a Chief Engineer in your own right… You’re the most talented power room tech in the fleet—it’s time you stepped up into something that will push you out of your comfort zone. So no,” he shook his head, but forced himself to relax as he finished, “it’s anything but obvious—at least not to me.”
Her previously neutral expression flared with anger as she bolted up from the bench. But instead of speaking, she lunged across the narrow space between them, grabbed his shirt and pulled herself up to plant the most passionate kiss on Tiberius’ lips that he had ever had the pleasure of experiencing.
The moment seemed to last for an eternity, during which time his hands found their way around the small of her back. But she pulled away and lowered herself down to the floor, while Tiberius literally froze as she said, “It’s because even with the relaxed regs on fraternization, I can’t do that with a direct superior.”
It took him a few moments to see what had probably seemed painfully obvious to her—and anyone else, had they not been in his shoes.
“I…” he began, only to trail off. “I just…I mean,” he stammered, “I thought—“
“That’s part of your problem,” she quipped. “You think too much.”
He looked at her in an entirely new light, and realized that he hadn’t exactly missed her signals—he had been purposefully ignoring them. But now he was faced with a situation where he would very likely have to sacrifice either his personal or professional integrity.
“Pen…” he said quietly, cocking his head as he searched for the words. “I have to—“
“You don’t have to do anything but go through with promoting Horgan,” Pen interrupted sharply, “just like you’d planned.”
It was tempting to do what she said, of that there was no doubt. But Tiberius knew that it would be the wrong thing, not only for the ship and its crew, but for Pen herself. Opportunities like this didn’t present themselves multiple times in a person’s career, regardless of what field that career was in.
Penelope was the best power room tech he had ever worked with, and as far as he was concerned the only reason she hadn’t already moved up further than she had done was because of her less-than-cutthroat approach to her professional advancement.
And that meant that it was Tiberius’ job to push her even that much harder.
“Pen,” he said with forced calm, “I would like nothing more than—“
“Then stop talking about it and make it happen,” she said in an almost pleading tone.
“I can’t,” he shook his head firmly. “You’re the best bet for this ship, this crew, and this mission. It would be unethical, immoral, and just plain wrong to let you hold yourself back. This ship needs you,” he said passionately, taking a step toward her and clasping her hands in his own, “I need you. But I can’t let my personal feelings take precedence over what’s best for everyone who came with us. They need us, Pen,” he added somberly, “and right now we’re the only people in this entire universe who are looking out for them.”
Her expression became hopeful and then turned sour. “I don’t care,” she said spiritedly. “Just once I want to do what’s best for me; I don’t want it…I just don’t want it.”
“That’s the problem with command, Pen,” Tiberius said with a sigh. “It’s never about what we want—it’s about what they need. And if it was anyone else but this crew, and these people, who have been on the literal chopping block with us,” he said, his eyes misting with emotion as he spoke, “I’d turn my back on them in a second and take you up on…well, on whatever it is you had in mind.”
McKnight's Mission: A House Divided, Book 1 (Spineward Sectors- Middleton's Pride 4) Page 25
