Badger (19 page)

Jacob nodded. “Okay, don’t leave me waiting. Who did it?”

Isaac turned the reader over to him with a nod, and Jacob started to read. It was a wall of text that proved almost impenetrable to him, but he still pretended to follow it as Isaac talked. “At first I thought it was one of the other amateurs on the crew, but that didn’t pan out. The Marines had them cleared almost as quickly as they did me, which meant it was someone we didn’t suspect had those kinds of skills. That’d leave either a member of the crew who had not shown hacking experience, or a newcomer.”

He looked up from the pad. “A newcomer? Like a stowaway?”

The Gunnery officer shook his head. “Not quite. More like one of the visitors we were transporting at the time. Captain Upshaw probably wouldn’t have hacked his own quarters, but Commander Kenning or Captain Espinoza could have done it.”

Jacob again saw the
Gawain
diving to the rescue of his squadron. He’d heard Captain Espinoza had lost her life in the cruiser’s destruction. Try as he might, he could not reconcile her final actions with the person who had skulked into Upshaw’s quarters. He shook his head. “Espinoza didn’t do it.”

Leon snorted again, this time a little louder. “He’s right. Both Espinoza and Kenning have upstanding careers, and both have positions far more relevant to the war effort than Upshaw. Why would they infiltrate his quarters to look at personal files?”

Isaac gave him a crooked grin. “Why indeed? Turns out there’s actually an answer or two for that question.” He tapped his reader again, bringing up a far more understandable block of text. “Turns out our Captain Upshaw has some connections back home to quite a few highly influential families. Something like a third cousin to half a dozen millionaires, and a passel of politicos as well.” Isaac glanced at Leon. “He’s no Nivrosky, but he’s close enough for someone with a few political ambitions and a plan to rise in the ranks. If there was anything worth blackmailing him over, they might have been able to find it when they broke in.”

Jacob nodded slowly. Commander Kenning was certainly cunning enough to pull off that sort of maneuver, and Jacob had no doubt his intelligence training had given him the necessary hacking skills. In fact, Jacob wished he had thought to check Kenning’s background during the original investigation; a quick interview might have set the whole issue to rest. Now, however, Kenning was no longer on Jacob’s ship, and thus no longer truly under Jacob’s authority. He couldn’t drag the commander aside and question him. Especially now.

Looking to Leon, Jacob found the other officer’s face was grim. He’d probably worked through the same thought process, and obviously didn’t like the conclusions he’d drawn.

“There does not seem to be much to gain by pursuing the matter. Whether it was Espinoza or Kenning, the fallout would be unpleasant.” Isaac reared up, an indignant rebuke showing clearly on his face, but Leon waved a hand to cut him off.

“I know, Isaac, I know. At the same time we cannot simply allow this sort of thing to undermine the fleet from within. Can we, Jacob?”

Feeling a slight ache build behind his eyes, Jacob looked up and nodded. “Alright. Do we have any other proof?”

Isaac shook his head. “Everything I had beyond that reader went up with the
Terrier
. Without more, we may never be able to prove which of those bastards did it, no matter how much I dig up.”

“So no, then.”

The Gunnery officer nodded reluctantly. Jacob sighed. “Sorry Isaac, but we’ll have to sit on this for now. Anything else might make things worse, and that’s the last thing we need right now.” Jacob waited until his friend nodded, reluctant as the gesture might have been. Then he turned to Leon. “So was there anything else you had for me? Or was that pleasant news everything?”

Leon hesitated, though his preternatural calm returned easily. “I did receive the orders for your next position. Originally I would have waited until you had gotten more rest, but since you were going to be up anyway…” He gave Isaac a significant look, and the Gunnery officer simply shrugged and grinned. With a shake of his head Leon turned back to Jacob. He drew out a small slip of paper and extended it towards Jacob. “In any case, here they are. I hope they are to your liking.”

Jacob took the paper and frowned. “Why do you say that? Have you already looked at them?”

Beagle
’s former commander shook his head. “No, I haven’t. I just know wherever you’re going, I’m likely to follow, and if you aren’t happy, there is very little chance I will be either.” Jacob blinked, and Leon gave him a slim smile. “Come on, Jacob. We’ve served together for too long for a bit of you not to rub off on me—even when you’re being a stubborn blockhead.”

He snorted as Isaac chuckled. “Thanks, Leon. I think.” Jacob looked down at the paper and hesitated. Anything could be written there, from a dishonorable discharge for hazarding his men to a misguided commendation for bravery and a new post aboard some other ship. For a moment the possibilities played out before him, staying his hand. Shaking his head as if to clear it of those worries, Jacob unfolded the paper and read the words to himself.

Surprise made him blink. He read the orders again, if only to make sure he had not been mistaken. Jacob looked up at Leon. “You’re sure you didn’t know anything about these?”

Leon frowned. “No, Jacob. If I said I didn’t look, I didn’t look. You should know that.”

“Well, what does the damn thing say?” Isaac was leaning forward so far he was nearly falling out of his chair.

“It says I’m to report to
Badger
for a staff assignment.” A brief silence followed, and Jacob shook his head as he continued. “Leon, you’ll be transferred to a defense station above Celostia pending a transfer to a new warship, while Isaac will be heading off to New Harel. You’ll be on a corvette for system defense out there, the
Feather
. Laurie’ll be following me around, acting as my staff lieutenant, but most of the rest of the crews will be shuffled off to various other ships.”

“A staff assignment.” Isaac sounded stunned. Then his face twisted abruptly in anger. “A
staff assignment
, and with my wife! While I’m off where, the very least exciting part of the entire Union? New Harel hasn’t seen any action since the first settlements or the break with Telos.”

Leon seemed slightly stricken as well. “And I will be on a defense station. Put in holding while I wait in line for a transfer.” The discomfort in his voice was clear, but Jacob was still too stunned over his own fate to sympathize much. He remained silent longer than the others had apparently expected, because Leon suddenly leaned forward. “Jacob, what is it?”

It took him a moment to respond. “My assignment to
Badger
is only temporary. I’m filling in for some of the officers they shifted to cover casualties in the rest of the flotilla.” Leon and Isaac glanced at each other, as if suddenly uncertain, but Jacob continued before they could ask their inevitable questions. “Once the
Badger
returns to Celostia, I’m to be shuttled down to the surface.”

Isaac reacted first. “The
surface
?” The words nearly came out as a shout, and Leon tried to gesture for Isaac to stay quiet. Jacob didn’t bother; on the heels of his shock at the orders, he now only felt fatigue and disappointment creeping in on his mind. Isaac glanced at Leon, shrugged, and continued in a barely more acceptable tone. “What the hell are they thinking of having you do on Celostia? Not some desk assignment there too.”

“No, Isaac. No assignment at all.” Jacob smiled a little sadly and looked up. He met Isaac’s suddenly shocked eyes, and forced the words out. “I’m going to be on leave. Mandatory, at least four weeks, if not longer. High Admiral Nivrosky signed the orders himself.”

Leon grunted, and when Jacob looked in his direction the other officer looked stricken. When Leon opened his mouth, Jacob abruptly stood. The prospect of hearing the apology, the rationale, or the outrage that he truly didn’t deserve turned his stomach, and the night had already been difficult enough for him. “Thank you for bringing this to me, Leon. Isaac, let me know if you find out anything else. I think it’s time I got some rest.”

He started for the hallway, trying to keep the limp from his stride. His friends murmured their farewells, but the sheer regret in their words stung his ears. Jacob made it halfway down the hallway before he glanced back to make sure he was alone.

Then, shaking, he let some of the tears come. Not for himself, but for the men and women he’d failed, and for the officers he’d so obviously disappointed in the process. He gritted his teeth, keeping the noise of his grief to himself as he made his way to the bed. By the time sleep claimed him at last, Jacob was only glad the dead of
Terrier
and
Beagle
weren’t waiting for him in the oblivion that followed.

Chapter Ten

Jacob sat as his console and stared at the screen. That flickering light was the only illumination in his quarters. He knew he should have been focused on his task, but other subjects kept intruding on his thoughts.

There shouldn’t have been much to distract him. The days after his new assignment had been curiously empty. As the flotilla made the riftjumps to return through Celostian space, there were no further Oduran forces waiting for them. The only hint of enemy activity had been a pair of Telosian frigates who had immediately jumped out when they saw the flotilla. As opportunistic as the Telosians could be, the pirates wanted no part of the Celostian fleet, and it was not hard to understand why. Even the damage and losses the fleet had taken had not crippled them to the point where a pair of marauding raiders would escape destruction.

Normally, the sight of pirates on the run would have brought cheers, but the fleet was too numb from their losses.
Gawain
and
Terrier
were far from the only ships which made up the butcher’s bill, and there were even more that had received heavy damage, in addition to the nearly crippled
Beagle.
Yet those were just the ships; even more sobering had been the hundreds of crewmen lost in the battle, and the hundreds more still recuperating in sick berths all across the flotilla.

The memory of those losses brought Jacob’s mind back to his task. Since his recovery from the injuries he’d suffered, Jacob’s primary duty had been different. He did not contribute anything to the rest of the flotilla, or even continue the grinding simulations that had once occupied his time. His only task, the worst, most painful duty he’d ever had, was to inform the families of his crew that they would not be coming home. One letter at a time, Jacob had to explain how his actions had led to the deaths of over three hundred people. After that, there would be no relief; he would have to recommend the honorable discharge of dozens more who were too wounded to continue their service.

It was his responsibility, and his alone. Jacob’s heart ached as he thought of the grief he was causing for those families. The loss of his own parents in a senseless accident gave Jacob some idea of the pain his words would cause: the quiet hollowness left by a loved one’s absence, the sharp bitterness when their presence was missed, the tears that seemed neverending.

Yet there would be one difference. Their loss had not come by accident, but in a war. In war, there was always someone to blame.

Jacob had little doubt who would take the blame for their deaths. By placing Jacob on mandatory leave, the High Admiral had as good as condemned Jacob’s actions before the rest of the fleet. Any political interest that picked up on the message would likely jump on him as well; both the Federalists and Independents were going to be howling for blood soon enough. As quickly as it had risen, the heroic reputation of Jacob Hull, pirate killer and freer of the oppressed, was going to come crashing down, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

Not that he would have done anything if he could. The responsibility was his. Why bother denying it?

It had already begun, in fact. The officers who met him no longer had any admiration in their eyes. More knew about his new orders than Jacob expected. Either the High Admiral had seen fit to share Jacob’s fate with other officers, or someone like Kenning or Upshaw had gotten hold of the information and set about leaking it to as many people as possible. Any version of hero worship had fled as the story leapt from officer to officer throughout the
Badger
.

The reactions varied, but all were uniquely painful in their own ways. Some officers expressed sympathy and compassion, if not verbally, in their treatment of him. He felt as if they saw in him a wounded dog, unable to continue the hunt but still trying to run. Others had felt free to unleash their contempt in the open. Mutters of ‘reckless waste of lives’ or ‘damned glory hound’ followed him as he passed through the corridors of the command ship. It stung every time, and he could have sworn he heard the echoes of his dead crewmen behind each stabbing insult.

His friends continued to visit him as they drew closer to home, but their reactions to the change in situation showed that things had obviously thrown them for a loop. Isaac spent half his time discussing what little evidence he had of the intruder and the other half nearly ranting about the idiocy of their orders. Leon made some feeble attempts to discern the intent behind the commands, as if through logic and determination he could ferret out what his father was obviously refusing to tell him. Laurie occasionally made the effort to share information with him about the rest of the crew who had made it off his ships while downplaying his role in their destruction. Each had tried, in their own way, to make sense of what was happening, and Jacob could sense their frustration as their efforts fell short.

Al-shira, however, was not among them. The Communications officer kept busy in her own sphere, completely isolated from where Jacob had been enshrined in the medical wing. It was strange. He could hardly blame her for staying away, given his failures, but he did find himself wishing she would at least come by to rage at him for a while. Even the too-familiar sarcastic bite of ‘
captain
’ would have been welcome compared to the knife-edged nightmares and dull, grinding grief that consumed most of his days.