Authors: Kindal Debenham
Beta Four was one of the larger hatches, meant to accommodate the bulk transports the workers used to change shifts aboard the repair facilities. Jacob wondered why the Navy had chosen to disembark the crewmen here rather than at Reefhome—especially since the actual berthing space likely fell far short of the requirements for four full destroyers worth of crew—but he decided to question the wisdom of his superiors another day. Preferably a day when his ships had left the docks and he no longer felt at risk of being left on the sidelines forever.
The transport glided in to toward the docking hatch, and as Jacob watched its approach he received another sudden shock. It was not a passenger liner reserved for Naval personnel; the ship itself was one of the transports the Navy used for troop transport between major bases. They were rarely, if ever, used to move crews between duty assignments unless the situation was extremely bad, or if an emergency transfer of ship’s crews had abruptly become necessary. Jacob wondered which it was in this case.
As the transport linked up with the docking hatch, the transfer tube connected to the hatch lined up with the airlock on the ship and extended. A moment later the onboard computer systems signaled a confirmed lock, and the tube pressurized. Jacob waited, and a few moments later the new crews began to file their way through the tube. The hatch opened, and groups of crewmen and petty officers crowded out into the welcoming area by the handful, each group muttering between themselves. None seemed to notice him, for the moment, and he took the opportunity to survey them undetected as they continued to arrive.
To his surprise, the crews were remarkably argumentative. Jacob had expected either a crowd of enthusiastic young crewmen, full of naiveté, or embittered crewmen having been banished to this post for transgressions they now regretted. The last thing he had expected to see was a crew actively glaring at one another, exchanging biting insults, and generally acting as if an election year had snuck up on the Union without Jacob remembering it. It was disturbing enough to worry Jacob about the quality of his crews. He was frowning over the situation when he caught sight of an officer making his way through the crowds of crewmen.
The moment he saw Leon Nivrosky walking through the huddles of other uniforms, Jacob started to smile. Leon hadn’t seen him yet, but the determined look on his face told Jacob all he needed to know about who had argued Central Command into providing crews for the ships under his command. He started forward, intending to greet his friend and welcome him to the Station, when two more officers left the hatch close behind Leon, and surprise and dread combined to make Jacob feel gut punched.
Commander Kenning had a sour look on his face, as if he had been sentenced to patrol duty for the rest of the decade. His glare actually convinced some of the crew to shy away from him, and he looked ready to bite the heads off a fistful of nails. Jacob felt a sudden spike of anger drive itself home in his heart the instant he saw the man. The memory of how Kenning had tried manipulate him was too fresh for him to ignore it, and he spent a bitter, spiteful moment wondering if it would in any way be appropriate to discharge him right then and there. It took an effort and a personal, mental rebuke about keeping his own prejudices out of the way to stop himself.
In sharp contrast was Commander Flint. The pure, unrivaled melancholy was tempered with the type of regret Jacob had only before seen on very old men, and the officer’s shoulders seemed to bow beneath an unseen burden roughly the size and shape of a planet. The prospect of having both of those officers in close proximity for the foreseeable future did little to brighten Jacob’s day, but he schooled his features to professional neutrality and continued to advance.
The muttering continued as the crewmen filled the room. Suddenly one of the petty officers caught the shoulder of the crewman standing next to him and pointed at Jacob as he drew close. The murmur of disagreement in that cluster came to a sudden silence, and all five enlisted crewmen turned to salute him. Jacob answered their salutes and walked forward, aware they were staring at him.
He’d thought it was odd with the first group, but then another crewman noticed, and another, until a wave of silence spread over the gathered crew. Jacob found himself responding to salute after salute, trying to forge his way ahead as the new crew members paid their respects. By the time he made it to Leon, Kenning and Flint had already joined the man, and all three commanders snapped to attention when he drew near.
Jacob returned the salute, feeling the eerie silence continue to spread. Along with the curious quiet grew the itching feeling that came with being watched. He ignored it and nodded to his new subordinates. “Commander Nivrosky, Commander Kenning, Commander Flint. Welcome to Reefhome.”
Leon nodded and stuck out a hand. “Thank you, sir. Glad to be here.” As Jacob shook Leon’s hand, he couldn’t help but notice the other two officers were somewhat less excited, but he focused instead on the small packet Leon passed to him.
“Our orders, sir.”
The silence grew more intense, if that was possible. Jacob drew the small reader out of the packet and tapped in his command code to retrieve the message. He read it out loud for the benefit of those listening in around them.
“For Captain Jacob Hull, commanding officer of newly reactivated Destroyer Squadron 43. The crew and officers below listed are to be assigned at your discretion to the units under your command. They will join with the personnel of your staff to train and prepare for the recommissioning of the following vessels:
Beagle
,
Feist, Setter
, and
Wolfhound
.” So far, the orders weren’t surprising, though Jacob began to wonder where the fourth commander was if these were all the crew Central Command intended to send him. Unless Al-shira was the fourth. Suddenly the future looked to be much more interesting.
He pushed those thoughts aside and continued. “You are to expedite the reconstruction of your vessels as much as possible without compromising the integrity of the ships.” Those words made him pause, and it took effort to avoid a frown. Though couched in perfectly diplomatic language, it sounded very much like Central Command was now telling him to get the lead out and finish his job. It was a somewhat pleasant change from the low expectations they had entertained for him and his squadron, but Jacob suddenly wanted to know what had prodded the normally slow bureaucracy in the Central Command to want units back in the field so quickly.
Their reasons became only marginally clearer as he read on. “As of now, all fleet personnel are to remain neutral in the debate over the Banks Asylum. While freedom of choice exists in the Navy, the High Seat has specifically requested all command level officers to avoid making statements that would appear to lend support to one side or another. All personnel are, as always, permitted to vote their conscience at the time of the referendum.”
“As soon as the ships of Squadron 43 are active, they are to proceed with all haste to the staging area around Tiredel. Pending the resolution adopted by the Celostian Union through the referendum, your ships will act in tandem with the rest of the task force there to enforce the will of the people.” Jacob paused, trying to reconcile those orders with the previous attempts to delay his progress. Hoping his frustration and confusion were not as obvious to everyone else as they felt to him, Jacob forged ahead. “Your efforts in the defense of our homes, and more especially in this time of emergency, are appreciated by those who have come to rely on you. We trust you will do your duty as officers and servicemen of the Celostian Navy and that the freedom of our forefathers will not be lost on your watch.”
“Sincerely, Alan Nivrosky, Captain General of the Union and High Admiral of the Celostian Navy.”
Jacob felt rooted to the spot as he read those last words, and he could feel the crew around him holding their breath. Quietly, he deactivated the reader and cleared its memory banks, then folded it back inside the packet which had brought it to his hands. Even Commander Kenning seemed to regard him with a measure of uncertainty. Flint stared off into space, as if absorbed in his own thoughts.
Leon, however, had not moved his eyes from him. Jacob met his friend’s gaze, saw the determination in that stare once more, and nodded. It was just like old times again.
Smiling inwardly, Jacob turned to look out across the assembled crew. He raised his voice so even those at the far edges of the crowd could hear him, though the quiet that had spread over the men and women of the Navy made it easier than it could have been. “Well, you heard the orders. Let’s get to it!” With a gesture, he summoned the unfortunate lieutenant from the sidelines who’d been burdened with the berthing assignments. “Lieutenant Trant has your berthing instructions and initial duty rosters. Those will change as we settle in and get to know each other. Berths are going to be tight; Reefhome’s built for work, not comfort, so you’ll get used to cuddling. Now get your gear stowed and report for you work assignments. Dismissed!”
The crew descended on the hapless lieutenant, somehow scattering from the space in front of the docking tube and simultaneously converging on Trant’s position. Jacob watched them for a moment, and then turned to the three commanders still standing nearby. “I’ve made what arrangements I could for you, but we’re all squeezed in tight here. Commander Al-shira will send your assignments to your readers personally. Thank you for your patience, and again, welcome to Reefhome.”
Flint accepted the welcome without words, and simply drifted off in the direction of the rest of the crew and officers. Commander Kenning speared Jacob with a half-contemptuous glare, and then seemed to swallow his pride. He saluted before he stormed off. Jacob watched the both of them go for a moment, wondering how he was going to handle the two problematic officers, and then turned back to Leon.
The High Admiral’s son spoke before Jacob could. “So Al-shira’s back as your exec, huh? How convenient for everyone.” Leon actually chuckled, and Jacob felt his cheeks start to burn. He responded before the other man could say anything more condemning with so many witnesses around.
“Glad to see you finally made it, Leon. Now I know you’re probably tired from your trip and you would probably like to find a bunk, but I need something from you first.”
“Is that so?” Leon raised both eyebrows and spread his arms. “I would be happy to help, sir. Anything you ask.”
“Good.” Jacob leaned close. “Because I’ll be damned if you get any sleep at all before you explain to me what the hell is going on!”
Chapter Sixteen
“To sum it all up, it’s all the Odurans’ fault.”
Jacob waited a few more moments to give Leon time to finish his explanation, but the commander merely sipped at the glass of water he’d requested and remained silent. After Jacob was sure Leon was finished, he shook his head. “It usually is, but I think you’re going to have to run that by me again. Maybe with a footnote for those of us who haven’t been lounging around a Celostian System Defense Station for the past few weeks?”
A the other officers who were gathered informally in Jacob’s office chuckled. He had decided against holding an official conference since it would have lent a much more formal air to the proceedings. As it was, he could hardly have excluded Al-shira, who was indeed meant to be the fourth commander of the destroyer squadron. Isaac and Laurie invited themselves along regardless of Jacob’s feelings in the matter, but he was grateful for their presence as well. Turley had even joined the meeting, deciding for once to get his gossip at the source instead of waiting for it to filter through the grapevine.
Leon was not about to be embarrassed in front of such an audience. He cast Jacob an imperious look and gestured dismissively. “My service aboard the Defense Stations of Celostia was far from lounging, my pedestrian friend. There were admiring coeds to pursue, young junior officers to take at poker, and once in a while a dirty bulkhead to clean. It was a trial, and to be truthful, I was loathe to leave those duties to come and entertain you louts here at the edge of civilization.”
Isaac tossed a scrap of bread in his direction. “Oh shut up, you aristocrat. You know you missed us no matter what desk work they had you doing over there.”
Leon grinned, his high class bearing fading away. “You’ve got me, Bellworth, but don’t think I’ll forget the fact you left me to rot while you hacked your way back into the thick of things. It took me months to get here!”
The Gunnery officer snorted at Leon. “I just figured a highly born admiral’s son could do with a bit of effort. I’m not going to give it to you on a silver spoon like everyone else does, Nivrosky.”
Laurie stepped hard on Isaac’s toe, and he jumped. She gave him a stern look, but the laughter dancing in her eyes stole much of the severity. “Stop taunting the nobly born, rabble rouser. You can harass each other later. I want to hear about what’s been going on back home.”
Al-shira broke in, her curious gaze fixed on Leon. “I want to hear it as well. Continue, Commander Nivrosky.”
“Well if that’s the case, allow me to explain.” Leon stood up and paced the length of the small cabin as if he were in a lecture hall. “You all know how chaotic the situation in the League has been, but there are a few details most people were unaware of until a week ago.”
Jacob frowned. “What do you mean? Did Wayward change things after all?”
Leon shook his head. “Not…precisely. It turns out the Battle of Wayward—along with the supposed martyrdom of General Al-Mustafa—pushed the anti-Banks faction in the League to strike out. They’ve already established a new Central Council for the League and ‘elected’ a new President.”
“What we didn’t know, however, was that ex-President Banks had
not
in fact been reluctant to attack us all this time.” Leon paused for effect. “Actually, he was trying to organize an effort to establish a peace treaty. One that recognized our independence.” Dead silence answered the statement, and Jacob realized his jaw was hanging open. Peace with the League…