Badger (7 page)

Of course, those who Isaac had already tormented on this cruise demanded a second search be made, only this time for evidence of the mischief he had caused them. Since Captain Hull was so considerate to investigate a case for Captain Upshaw, they argued, surely he would indulge them as well. Those suggestions, along with the rest of the rumors surrounding his Gunnery officer, had led to confrontations between the rumor-mongers and the members of Isaac’s gun crews. Isaac had managed to become very well admired among his own men, and there were occasional shouting matches and even fist fights over comments disparaging their lieutenant.

The situation was made all the worse by the cold attitude that Isaac now displayed whenever they met. He no longer even addressed Jacob by his first name, only by rank and last name when the Gunnery officer was feeling eloquent, and a terse ‘sir’ when he wasn’t. It seemed as if all trace of his friendship with the man had been buried under a wall of resentment and shame that Jacob couldn’t figure out how to break through.

Yet Jacob had a responsibility to see things through, no matter what it cost him. Besides, the only real hope he had of clearing Isaac’s name was to find the real culprit. “Your advice is noted, Commander Flint. The investigation will continue. Any possibility that the security of the border has been compromised must be tracked down.”

Unsurprisingly, Flint did not seem convinced. “Sir, by all accounts the files were all from Captain Upshaw’s personal cache. There is no indication that any information on our deployments was even touched.”

Jacob shook his head. “That doesn’t mean that we can let this incident slide, Commander.” He paused. “If we have not found the person responsible by the time we reach
Badger
, then we will reconsider things. Otherwise, we need to continue.”

Flint said nothing for a long moment. Then he nodded, a sharp motion which revealed his frustration. “Yes, sir. Of course, sir. May I see to our resupply efforts, Captain Hull?”

“Yes, Commander. Thank you.”

Flint spun around and stomped through the doorway. Jacob stared at the closed door for a long while after his subordinate had left. He felt as if he had been running a marathon for a week straight. It was almost a relief to know that soon enough he would have something else to worry about.

Even if that something was going to be the end of his career.

The Celostian system of Ducennes was a very different place from Tiredel. More heavily settled than any of the frontier systems that the squadron had passed through, Ducennes was the location of the government for the Rhesium Seating. The system had a single habitable planet, with a climate and orbit very near to the conditions of man’s ancient home, long lost Earth. Settlements had grown up there over the years of the Union’s occupation, and nearly a billion people called the planet home.

Not all the inhabitants of Ducennes had chosen to settle on that one chunk of rock and sky. At least twenty different space stations were located in the system, three of which belonged entirely to the Navy. Some orbited one of the gas giants in the system; others occupied the space above the planet. Still others, such as the outermost Naval outpost and the Rhesium dockyards, drifted free of any association with planets or other celestial objects. They drifted along their assigned orbits like orphaned stars, glinting in the dark.

Between those installations and the various ships transiting the system, there was plenty for the sensors to sift through before they located
Badger
and her escorts. Jacob waited patiently until the Sensor officer pulled up an image of the flagship drifting with several other ships near Duke Station, the military base above Ducennes 3. The base was designed to act as a transfer and supply point for crews and ships visiting the capitol, and Jacob nodded approvingly at Nivrosky’s choice for a rendezvous. His squadron’s crews could likely be given a short liberty planetside as the destroyers made some more extensive repairs and their commanding officers dealt with their business. It was an efficient move, one typical of the High Admiral in many respects.

Commander Flint gave the orders needed to put
Terrier
on a course with the Station, and
Beagle
followed suit. Jacob took the moment of quiet to admire the flotilla assembled over the Seating’s capitol world. The Celostian Navy did not often gather its ships in one place; given the many systems the Union required its military to police and protect, it was far more likely to see small squadrons or single craft in any one place. The rarity of such a gathering of firepower, and its proximity to the border, made Jacob wonder if the High Admiral intended to launch an expedition into Oduran space after all.

There were at least fourteen different frigates and corvettes, organized loosely into several squadrons. Jacob recognized some of them as
Arrowhead
corvettes, small speedy ships meant to be system patrol craft, while others stood out as the newer
Knife
class of frigates. At least two
Squire
class frigates were present as well, which were likely
Badger
’s escorts. Another pair of destroyers glided nearby; they were the older
Defender
class models that the
Wolfhound
,
Terrier
and other sister models had been intended to replace.

In addition to the smaller craft, seven cruisers hung in the space near Duke Station. Jacob raised his eyebrows and studied over their configurations. Five of the cruisers were the older
Crown
class ships, easily identifiable by the broad ring around the aft section of the ship. The sight of the standard Celostian combat cruisers flying in formation was impressive enough, but another two ships had the sloped, sleek shape of
Knight
class cruisers. They had heavier armor and better targeting control than their older counterparts, and Jacob had heard that a single
Knight
class easily counted for more in an engagement than two
Crown
class cruisers.

The
Badger
was almost lost among the rest. A command and control ship, it was far less heavily armed and armored than the rest, with its main hull spread flat as if it were an irregular wafer. Sensor and communication platforms sprouted from the flat form like the tendrils of an inverted jellyfish, while the few actual railgun turrets looked almost forlorn in their isolation. The ship had two separate bridges, the command bridge having been set further back from the ship’s bridge to allow the orders from the fleet commander to avoid confusion and interruption. Jacob focused on that second bridge, as if he could see High Admiral Nivrosky there, waiting for him. He wondered, briefly, if Al-shira would be waiting at the dock as well. Then he shook his head and went back to observing the work of his bridge crew.

He listened as the Ensign Dukoff responded to the queries from the nearest defense station. There was no hitch in being identified as expected Navy units, and the squadron received the approval to continue on an in-system course. They would not be permitted to riftjump directly to their destination, since a bad jump might cause untold amounts of damage to either a civilian station in orbit around Ducennes 3 or the planet itself. The restriction meant that he would have another day to figure out what exactly he was doing here.

Unless, of course, Admiral Nivrosky decided to spare him the wait. Jacob heard the Communications officer’s console chirp and looked over as the woman tapped a few controls. “We have a message from the
Badger
for you, Captain Hull. They indicated that it should be private information.”

Jacob nodded. “Forward it to my office. Commander Flint, the bridge is yours.” Flint gave a weary sigh and took the command seat. Jacob shook his head. No matter what happened here, he doubted Flint would ever work well as his flag commander. Frustration clawed at him again. He made his way down the access ladder and then walked to his office. The computer on his desk was already blinking. Jacob sat down and activated it, expecting the High Admiral’s face to appear again.

Instead, an entirely too familiar set of features appeared. Her dark hair was still shoulder length and hung loose around her face. Dark eyes flashed for a moment before she resumed a purely professional expression. “Commander Naomi Al-shira, CNS
Badger
, to the captain of Squadron 43, CNS
Terrier
. You are to proceed along the specified course and rendezvous with the flagship. Captains Upshaw, Espinoza and Hull are to proceed to a conference of officers aboard the flagship, along with Commanders Kenning and Nivrosky. Commander Flint will remain onboard the
Terrier
to exercise command over the squadron. Conduct no further gunnery, defense or other combat drills while en route. Commander Al-shira, out.”

The hologram disappeared, and Jacob stared at the space where she had been. Six months since they had been assigned together, and nearly that long since he had seen a message from her, and she gave him no more contact than was professionally necessary. Obviously, the anger from that last fight had remained with her. Jacob shook his head. Should he even respond?

Still, it was better not to risk any miscommunication. The
Badger
was the command ship for the fleet, after all. Jacob turned on the transmitter and waited for the cameras to adjust and focus on him. A light blinked to indicate that all was ready, and he nodded to himself. “Captain Jacob Hull to CNS
Badger
. We have received your message and orders and will comply.” He paused. Some part of him wanted to pass a message to her directly, but he restrained himself. “Captain Jacob Hull, CNS
Terrier
, out.”

He touched a button and the device shut down. Jacob tapped a second control and the message was sent up to the Communications officer on the bridge. For a while, he sat, pondering over what Al-shira’s harsh expression. A thread of humor wormed its way into his melancholy thoughts. Combined with the disastrous intrusion in Upshaw’s quarters and Jacob’s consistently painful battles, a confrontation with his former fellow ensign was just what he needed to complete the horrible failure that had been his journey so far. At least he would not have to deal with it until tomorrow.

The next day, Jacob stood in the hanger of the
Terrier
watching the hatch open on the shuttle. Both destroyers had already approached the
Badger
at incredible speed, and Jacob found himself waiting for the ride over to the flagship.

The wait was not pleasant. The other captains waited alongside him. Espinoza’s face could have been carved in granite, and every glance could have drawn blood. Upshaw ignored him contemptuously and chatted with Commander Kenning. Jacob, unwilling to risk another series of poisonous barbs from his fellow officers, sat and waited.

When the shuttle was ready to leave, Jacob allowed the other officers to board first. As soon as he had strapped himself in, he nodded to the officer piloting the ship. “Lieutenant Phong, you are clear to launch. How long do you think the trip will take?”

The serious-looking lieutenant glanced back from the pilot’s seat. “It is only a short flight sir. I’d say about thirty minutes.”

Jacob nodded. Phong was definitely not on the same level as Lieutenant Iriel.
Wolfhound’s
former skiff ensign could have threaded through the crowded space above Ducennes in half the time. She had always tended to view objects in her way—warships, railgun projectiles, defense nets—as if they had been part of an obstacle course. In a lot of ways, Jacob missed that sort of risky flying, but it did give him hope that the inevitable meeting with Nivrosky and Al-shira would be further in the future.

Leon had transferred to the
Badger
early. The High Admiral obviously wanted to spend some time with his son before the official conference began. Jacob only hoped the subject of their private conservation had not turned to him. He doubted Leon and his father would bother talking about some troublesome captain, but it still worried him as the command ship grew larger in the navigation projection. He hoped that Leon was not going to give his father an earful about the combat he’d fought under Jacob. There were likely enough people complaining about the situation already.

The shuttle passed the ships floating between
Terrier
and
Badger
, weaving slowly around the Celostian craft. A
Knife
class frigate cut through space just below the shuttle, the railgun turrets on either side of the blade-like hull shifting slightly as if the gun crews were tracking the smaller ship. Disconcerting as that would have been, a worse feeling ran along Jacob’s spine as they flew by the next ship, a
Knight
class cruiser. Larger than the
Terrier
by nearly twice the size, it carried eight railguns, four missile bays, and one double-ranged plasma lance. The massive turret tracked the shuttle, capable of slashing through it with a single dismissive burst of superheated plasma.
Bloodthorne
, the former flagship of Admiral Dianton, had mounted a similar weapon despite his ship’s smaller size, and more than once the pirate had come close to gutting the
Wolfhound
with a spear of thermonuclear gas. Just the memory of that torrent of destruction sweeping towards his ship was enough to make Jacob shudder for a moment before they passed the cruiser by.

Kenning and Upshaw continued their incessant chatter. The two officers were discussing a recent political development in the more settled portions of the Union. The Federalists had suffered a defeat in the elections for Ankara Seating, allowing the opposing Independent party to send another representative to the House of the People. Both men were heaping abuse on the victorious candidate, mourning the apparent ignorance of the electorate. Jacob gritted his teeth and tried to block out the conversation. He had never paid much attention to politics, given his own outsider status with most of the Union. All he knew was that the former Union planet of Rigannin had been heavily invested in the Federalist party; that alone was all the endorsement he needed to vote Independent.