Federation Reborn 1: Battle Lines (12 page)

He should have done his homework beforehand. They'd gotten the bios of all the sleepers when the deployment orders had been cut. He had to some degree, but he'd been distracted with the flood of intelligence that the ansible had presented. Sorting it out … he shook his head. It was an excuse; he knew it.

He scanned the records and found out Admiral Phil Subert had a brief stint in intel as a lieutenant. He nodded. So he knew a bit about what he was saying. That took some of the sting out but rubbed a little salt in other wounds.

Who was going to take over from Harris? Teague was going to have her hands full with Intel … and BUPERS … he shook his head. Not his problem anymore. Not anymore he thought.

Finally Monty found out he had had been transferred to Agnosta and then to Antigua for reassignment since the local BUPERS was not sure about what to do with him. That bothered him. He didn't like the idea of being kicked around, spending months in transit only to get passed on to somewhere else like some sort of leper.

“What the hell do I do now?” he murmured. He shook his head and checked the departures. He had to hustle to get to his quarters, pack his gear, and then get to the tender heading back to Agnosta. The admiral's many orders had put the tender crew on a quick turnaround. That probably wasn't going over too well with those who had planned a leave with friends and family or bar mates, but oh well. He shook his head and headed for his quarters.

---<>---<>---

Commander Harris fumed as he returned to his ship.
Damocles
was all he had left now. He blamed Irons for this. For saddling him with … he shook his head. He knew the regs, knew technically Subert was in the right, but to be fired like that! So cold, and it would go on his record too! He'd done nothing wrong. He'd stepped up as duty required, and yet … he scowled blackly.

“Something wrong, sir?”

“Just life,” the commander said, shaking his head. He turned to the ensign. “What's on your mind, Sh'lna?” he asked.

“I was going over the latest tactical exercise. I'm having trouble with it though. I'm not sure what I'm doing wrong.”

“And you are coming to me about it?”

“Not in the way you mean, sir. I think we've been hacked,” the Veraxin said carefully.

“Hacked?” the commander asked, taking the tablet. His frown deepened as he checked the file. “Did you run this past an AI?”

“I don't trust them, sir. After Lemnos … the security AI didn't even know that Wraith was there!” The Veraxin signaled second level discomfort and disbelief. “How is that even possible? It is, was our most secure facility!”

“It was a very secure facility but not the most secure obviously,” the commander replied. “I don't know how much you were cleared, so I'm not going to go into details. Suffice to say it happened and we need to be ever watchful. But I'm not seeing a problem here.”

“Sir,” the Veraxin clacked and pointed to a time chop. A ship jinked from one place to another.

“It could be a bug. It could be a glitch in the simulator software … or yes, something else. Don't immediately jump into the last conclusion though—not without more evidence to back you up.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And next time, run this by the XO and your own chain of command before you come straight to me with it,” the commander replied.

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”

“I know. You are used to being a small ship command. But now you're not. Start acting like it, Sh'lna.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. You have the watch in an hour?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good then. Did engineering get that glitch sorted out with the boat bay door?”

“Not that I know of, sir. I haven't seen the log yet.”

“I'll go back there and check it out then. You've got an hour before you are on duty. I suggest you enjoy it, Ensign,” the commander said and turned away. He had a ship to run he thought as he moved off with renewed purpose.

---<>---<>---

After his dinner Admiral Subert nodded to Saul. The young man had stayed near in the restaurant just in case he was needed. It wasn't necessary; the admiral didn't need a babysitter. What he had needed was an escort; he hadn't known Governor Saladin had intended to bring his wife with him. At least, he thought it was the man's wife; it could have been his mistress for all he knew. He frowned thoughtfully and then made a mental note in his implants to have Saul do some discrete checking.

“Everything all right, Commander?” he asked.

“Yes, sir. Things are moving quickly now that you put everyone on notice.”

“Right. The days of idling and coasting are over. We're a fighting force, and it's high time they realized that. If they can't shape up, they damn well better ship out.”

Saul winced. “Commander Decius has resigned his commission,” Saul replied.

The rear admiral blinked at him in surprise. The commander nodded. “I thought he was in hibernation?” he asked suspiciously.

“He was near the end of the cycle. Doctor Thornby had him awakened to let him know about the changes.”

“Ah. I see. Dangerous ….”

“No, sir. As you pointed out, he didn't need to do so many hibernations.”

“So … and Commander Montgomery?”

“He's already put in for a transfer and was cleaning out his office when I last checked.”

“I see. The others should be pretty busy though they undoubtedly will offer some sympathy.”

“Yes, sir. They've worked together for some time now.”

“So it's high time for a good shaking up to air things out. New perspectives, fresh eyes,” the admiral said with a nod. “Do make sure I get a heads-up about needing an escort next time, Saul,” he warned as they walked to the lift.

The commander hesitated and then nodded. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”

“No problem, you didn't know. Find someone who I can tap at a moment's notice for such things. Command staff if possible since they have rank, but a discrete civilian may work as well.”

“I'll um, look around, sir.” He hadn't banked on doing
that
for the man.

The admiral looked at him. “I know you're not a dating service, son. But handling such things goes with the job.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good man. What's next?”

“You need to settle into your quarters, sir. Let the departments get rolling on your orders while you catch up on your personal things and get a good idea of the layout. At least, that is what you had planned.”

The admiral nodded as if he had been testing the man. He'd honestly forgotten. There had been a lot on his mind and …. “Excellent. Get me a SITREP on the changes. I want those ships moved before my shift starts tomorrow,” he warned.

“Yes, sir,” the chief of staff nodded dutifully. “The orders have already been cut, sir.”

“Good man.”

They took the evening shuttle flight back to the station. The admiral nodded and gave a casual salute to those in uniform he encountered who recognized him and saluted. They didn't need to do so. He wasn't in uniform, but he was glad some noted him. Or were they saluting the commander? Again, he'd have to check into that later.

“Good night, sir.”

“Oh em, yes, good night,” the admiral said as he looked around. They'd gotten to his quarters rather quickly while he'd been woolgathering. He nodded to the marine sentry at the entrance.

“I am not sure how you wanted your room set up, sir, so I left it to you,” Saul stated.

“I can unpack my own bags. Look into a steward though. I'll need one soon enough.”

“Yes, sir. Do you want me to talk to personnel?”

“Do it tonight and then let me see a list of candidates in the morning. I'll also need some additional support personnel eventually.”

“Yes, sir,” the commander replied with a nod.

The admiral went into his quarters and looked around. Captain Logan had recently vacated them. They were simple and plain; he hadn't decorated. It had been recently cleaned though; he could tell by the smell in the air. He looked around and found a stack of plastic totes with his personal things in it. They were stacked neatly in the living room. He nodded. He inhaled and then exhaled. It seemed he had some work ahead of him before he could get his nightcap and call it an evening. He made a note to have the commander look into a personal steward, flag lieutenant, and other staff in the morning.

---<>---<>---

Before Commander Montgomery left to board the departing tender to Agnosta, he talked with the other senior staff members. Everyone was scrambling to handle the orders that had been dumped on them. He felt a bit guilty about tracking Thornby, Horatio, and Matilda down, but he didn't want to leave without at least trying to say goodbye. Matilda would be a pain in the ass if he did skip out; she'd never forgive him. And she'd probably track his ass down with a nasty email or two so he decided to drop by for a goodbye.

Fortunately, they were all in the annex so that wouldn't be a problem.

He'd already said his goodbyes and good luck to his staff. Irene was going to have her work cut out for her, covering her ass with internal politics, dealing with the bureaucracy and the admiral. He wished Lady Luck would visit her often. The young woman was in over her head. He felt a bit guilty about dumping the load on her, but … he cut such thoughts off with a pang of remorse. At least Frank Sekim would be around to keep her straight … if he didn't get her into trouble himself! He shook his head.

He'd had gotten the news through the usual scuttlebutt grapevine that Commander Decius had refused to be transferred and had instead resigned his commission when Thornby had woken him to give him the news. Monty was ready to follow in the centipede's many footsteps to resign as well, but the other officers counseled him to have patience and hang in there.

“This well and truly sucks,” Sergio said, sulking. “I cannot fracking believe it!” He shook his head and started to pace. He got an implant call and took off with a mumbled goodbye.

Horatio was still smarting over his own slap down but felt for the other officers. They had no experience with such things. He'd tried to work with everyone, get them to get along, build bridges, and retain people since they had been partially trained. He'd cut them a lot of slack over the years. Now that soft hand was being slapped away with an iron gloved fist.

Admiral Subert's changes had come fast and furious. He'd fired several other people for nonperformance and made changes to the pickets. His changes were already making waves throughout the naval community.

Many of the people who had been relieved were being transferred to other star systems. Two were up for investigation by JAG by the admiral's order. Horatio had managed to shield Monty so the lieutenant commander wasn't going to be court-martialed. But the firing was going to go into his record jacket.

“BUPERS is a mess. Decius was good. He screwed up with the hibernations. He didn't delegate worth a damn, but …,” Matilda scowled.

It was rumored that the admiral was planning on demoting some people in favor of his own people. Many people good and bad were putting in for a transfer swamping the system. Kalmia was also swamped since everyone was chattering about the new orders and where lightning would strike next.

Horatio was of two minds about it. On the one hand, he felt for his people. But on the other he realized they weren't his people, not anymore. A good shake-up and cleaning out may be what was needed to get the ball rolling again.

“You've been doing fine. I don't see what the problem is,” Matilda insisted.

“But I did muck it up,” Monty insisted, shaking his head.

“You can't be held responsible for not getting intel from the people you sent behind the lines, Monty! They … we don't know what happened to them!” Matilda said in disgust. She'd seriously miscalculated in going into the initial meeting in civilian dress. She'd bucked Horatio, not really to get his goat but to stress her dual personality. But this new Admiral was a hard-ass. She didn't like him one little bit. She took her shoes off and rubbed at her aching feet. Nara just shook her head at her, so she wiggled her tootsies at her and then put her feet down.

Monty was oblivious to her thoughts since he had his own mess to deal with. What she had said was true. Over a hundred agents, all but four human, had been sent into the empire's territory through various routes. None had reported back. They knew the communication lines were long and fragile, but he hadn't gotten a single drop that they'd made it to certain key points.

He had planned meticulously to set up a series of cells on each planet to pass information back to them. It would be problematic, but it was the best he could think of. Every one of the agents had been outfitted with the best training and tools of the craft that he could get them.

Every single one of the agents had been a volunteer. Well, the four AI had been purposely built for the job from a template. They had been problematical. He didn't expect to hear from them for years. He hated not knowing. He hated assuming they'd failed—that they'd been found out, turned, tortured, or killed.

He had refined his process when he had gotten more intel. For instance he had stopped attempting to create a spy cell on Konohagakure since it was an enclosed culture. The humans there were mostly Asian stock and were bound to various martial arts clans.