Eagle (Jacob Hull) (17 page)

Jacob considered him for a moment, and then returned the salute. “You may, Admiral. Thank you.”

Without further comment, Mirov turned on his heel and left, the door sliding shut behind him.

For a moment more, Jacob stared at the door, and then he turned to Leon. “What do you think? Sincere?”

Leon nodded without hesitation. “Absolutely. I was able to hear something of what my father thought of Admiral Mirov back before…” The former High Admiral’s son waved his hand in a vague gesture, warding away a memory. “Anyway, before Tiredel. He always thought Mirov was a man of integrity, though his political associations have always bothered him a bit. If he says he’ll support you, then he will—and I’d say you will have no stronger supporter in the fleet than him soon enough.”

“Good. The last thing I need is for another admiral to pull a surprise on me.” Jacob frowned. “What do you suppose he meant by his opposition being ill-founded? Could Yeseti’s betrayal have shaken him that badly?”

Leon shrugged. “Well, they were fairly close, and they’ve worked together for a long time.  That could be it.” He looked down at his reader and started to tap a few buttons. “From what I can see, Mirov’s never really had a close association with a lot of officers. In fact, the only other person I could think of would be—”

He stopped abruptly, and Jacob raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”

When Leon continued, his voice was a bit more subdued. “I was going to say Admiral Mirov tended to put a lot of faith in Captain Anthony Kenning, but that doesn’t seem to be the case anymore.” He turned his reader over to Jacob, pointing at an entry on the screen. “Captain Kenning filed for an immediate discharge this morning, with the unofficial endorsement of Admiral Mirov.”

It took a couple of moments for Jacob to catch the meaning of that action. “Mirov decided Kenning needed to go? Why would he do that?” He replayed the conversation in his mind. “He might have just wanted to show a clean break between him and the Kenning clan just to look better to me, but that wouldn’t have really been necessary.”

Leon hesitated. “Not unless he’d been given another reason.” He glanced at the doorway. “He mentioned something before he left—something about evidence. Where could he have turned up something against Kenning all of a sudden? Especially now?”

A suspicion began to gather in Jacob’s mind, like a dark cloud just before a storm. He tightened his hands into fists. “I think I might know where.” He tapped his controls. “Colonel, can you put me in touch with Captain Isaac Bellworth, please? I believe there is something we may need to discuss.”

Isaac marched into the room an hour later, his face completely and utterly blank of any emotion. All the same, the man radiated a sense of satisfaction that answered Jacob’s questions before he even asked them. He came to a halt in front of Jacob’s hospital bed and snapped to parade ground precise attention. His salute was just as unwavering. “Captain Bellworth reporting, Sir.”

Jacob returned the salute, then studied Isaac for a few moments before he responded. They were alone in the room; Leon had left some time earlier to return to his duties as captain of the
Galahad
. He’d already shared his misgivings with Jacob about confronting Isaac, but they both agreed at the very least they needed to be sure about what had happened. “Thank you for coming, Isaac. Please, make yourself comfortable.” He gestured to a nearby chair.

Isaac remained standing. “What can I do for you, Admiral?” The tone of those words was every bit as professional as a superior officer could have hoped, but Isaac was avoiding meeting Jacob’s eyes. Clearly, Isaac had been up to something he knew Jacob would not like and was hoping to avoid the issue. Unfortunately, that was not an option now.

“You might have heard an interesting tidbit today, Captain. Admiral Mirov came in just a short while ago having changed his mind about me. He apparently ran across some fairly convincing information that convinced him to support me.” Jacob paused, trying to read his friend’s expression. “Coincidentally, Captain Anthony Kenning has just resigned from the Navy, with Admiral Mirov’s specific approval of the move. A strange turn of events, wouldn’t you say, Captain Bellworth?”

There was a flicker of triumph in Isaac’s expression, so brief anyone less familiar with him would have missed it entirely. “It is very interesting, Sir, but I’m not sure exactly why you are speaking with me about it. Admiral Mirov’s decision is his own concern, and you told me not to interfere with his choice.”

Jacob leaned back in his bed. “I did say that, didn’t I? It would be very disappointing, then, if I ever found evidence that suggested you ignored those orders and done it anyway.”

Isaac’s aura of triumph lessened slightly, and his face grew a bit paler. “That would be very disappointing, Sir.” He met Jacob’s gaze. “I am
confident, however, you will never find such evidence.”

The sheer gall of that statement stung Jacob, and he drew in a breath to calm himself. Anger burned inside him, but he held it in check as he responded. “I hope you are right, Captain, because I am just as sure you would not like the consequences if I did realize you acted against my orders.”

Isaac raised an eyebrow. “Even if my disobedience resulted in you getting Admiral Mirov’s unqualified support? I’d think a little gratitude wouldn’t be so bad in that case.”

The bitter tone in those words grated on Jacob’s nerves, and he had to forcefully unclench his hands. “Whether or not it ended well would be less important than if I could trust you. If I can’t count on you to follow my orders, what good would you be to me? How could I be sure you would do what is best for the Navy instead of following your own agenda?” Isaac didn’t respond this time. Jacob met his silent stare and continued. “You’re one of the best officers I’ve ever had, Isaac, and a good friend besides that. I know what you’ve given for the Union, and I know you want to do what’s best for everyone. I need to know I can rely on you rather than having to worry about
another loose cannon in the ranks.”

Isaac met Jacob’s stare for another few moments. Then he shifted his gaze to a point about four inches above Jacob’s face.
“Yes, Sir. You won’t have to worry about it again, Sir.”

Jacob watched him closely and saw no sign he was lying. Not that it was a foolproof method for that sort of thing with Isaac, but it was better than the obvious deception his friend had been flaunting before. “Thank you, Isaac.” He sat back, suddenly tired. “Is there anything else that should be brought to my attention before you go?”

“No, Sir.” The impassive mask slipped for a moment, and Isaac dropped his gaze back to meet Jacob’s eyes. Jacob saw a flash of concern, a hint of grief in his friend’s expression, during that brief moment of vulnerability. “They almost got you, Jacob. I couldn’t let it happen again.”

Then the mask returned, and Isaac shifted his gaze elsewhere once more. Jacob nodded slowly. “I understand, Isaac.
Never again.”

Isaac nodded, and then he saluted, the motion sharp and precise. “Thank you for sharing your concerns, Sir. If you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to my ship.”

Jacob returned his salute. “Good hunting, Captain.”

Dropping the salute, Isaac pivoted and left, sliding the door carefully shut after him. Jacob was left staring at the door and wondering if he’d done the right thing—whether he should have relieved Isaac the moment he suspected something, or if he should have encouraged him to do even more. After a few minutes of arguing with himself, Jacob shook his head and turned back to the rest of his work. There were much larger threats to deal with, even if they weren’t quite so close to home.

Chapter Sixteen

Jacob stood alone in his office, watching the broadcast High Seat Smithson had sent out from Celostia. Two weeks had passed since the referendum regarding the nomination had been declared, and today the results of the referendum had finally reached New Vermont. Though Jacob thought he knew what those results would be, he still felt his heart beat a bit faster when Smithson’s image appeared from his projector.

The High Seat began without preamble, his solemn expression conveying the gravity of the situation. “Citizens of the Celostian Union. In recent days we have had the chance to confirm an appointment to one of the highest offices in the Navy, that of the High Admiral. This referendum was urged by the unanimous petition of the Admiralty Board to ensure a clear chain of command existed to handle the problems and issues ahead.”

“It is my duty and my good fortune to announce Admiral Jacob Hull has been confirmed as the High Admiral of the Navy by a clear majority of the citizens in the Celostian Union.”

Jacob felt nearly overwhelming relief. After months of bickering, months of frustration over the various internal politics and backbiting that stood in the way of his duty, he was finally the executive authority of the Navy. There would still be obstacles, and he had every confidence the Admiralty Board, the Lower Seats, and more would take the occasional opportunity to throw blocks in his way, but it still seemed a great many problems had just vanished. More than that, the confirmation served as a greater vindication of everything he had done, of everything he had risked, in the past weeks on behalf of his people.

There was time enough for gratitude and relief later. Jacob put those feelings aside and continued to listen.

Smithson’s voice did not lighten. “As an officer in the Navy, Jacob Hull has continually lived up to the many challenges he has faced. I have every hope he will do so now, as he faces the many dangers threatening our Union. Again I offer my thanks to the people of the Union for their continued commitment and for adding the strength of your voices to our cause. The true power of our nation lies upon the shoulders of each of you, the men and women who continue to choose the course we will follow in years to come. To Admiral Hull—excuse me, High Admiral Hull—we thank you for your service, and offer you the goodwill of our people. High Seat Smithson, out.”

Jacob smiled, and the official transmission cut. It was just like Smithson to keep the public message short and solemn. The unofficial message Smithson had sent along with the official broadcast on the messenger drone one was just as characteristic. Jacob opened it and once again Smithson appeared, this time openly smiling.

“First, let me extend my congratulations to you, Jacob. You’ve finally gained the authority I meant for you to have from the start.” Smithson made a face. “I wish it had been an easier process, but perhaps it was for the best this way. Now you have the respect of both the people and your fellow officers, from what I hear.”

Jacob snorted. He’d already seen precisely how much respect his promotion was going to be worth. Enough for a veiled version of the bickering that had dominated the fleet after Nivrosky’s death to replace the open turf wars, but at least there was hope now the restored chain of command would put things in order.

Smithson shook his head. “Unfortunately, none of my people have managed to locate Admiral Yeseti. We have no effective resources in place on San Marcos, likely due to Yeseti’s interference before her betrayal. Furthermore, the local government has been stonewalling any inquiries in that direction. They claim no one of her description has visited the planet, and further, no ship of the type that allowed her to escape New Vermont was actually registered to their world. Apparently the shipping company is something of a shell corporation—or so they claim. Either way, it is a dead end.”

Jacob clenched his teeth. He wanted Yeseti to answer for her crimes against the Union. Finding out just how much the traitor had managed to cripple their intelligence network both in the League and in the Union itself would have been rather reassuring on a professional level, but Jacob knew the lion’s share of his grudge was personal. The deaths of Corporal Patel and Captain Meriweather guaranteed that much.

Yet the good news was far from over. “The last thing I have to tell you is that Representative Carmichael has withdrawn from the House. He is already en route to San Marcos, along with every other government official representing their world. I can only assume his actions might have something to do with whatever von Clarence is doing on San Marcos. Perhaps Carmichael’s power base has been disrupted enough to weaken the fool.” Smithson’s expression grew grim. “If not, I will expect something rather large to happen in the area soon. Carmichael is not one to concern himself with petty problems or small schemes. If he went back to San Marcos with his staff, it’s because he plans on doing something important—and that should concern us as well.

“That’s all for now, High Admiral. Congratulations again on your success, and I will look forward to seeing you in person once the situation is stable.” Smithson reached for the projection unit, and then a mischievous smile stole across his face. “Also, I’ve begun collecting the most interesting assortment of ‘Admiral Ironsides’ jokes. The political cartoonists and comedians here have been most entertaining. I’m sure you will enjoy them as well.
High Seat Smithson, out.”

Oblivious to Jacob’s pained groan, Smithson ended the recording. Jacob shook his head, and he heard a chuckle from the doorway. Al-shira leaned against the doorjamb, smiling. “I came to give you my congratulations as well, Sir. You’ve definitely earned it.”

“Not without quite a bit of help, Naomi.” Jacob switched off the blank projection unit and ran a hand through his hair. “That wasn’t the end of everything, anyway. Now the real work starts.”

Al-shira grimaced. “Don’t remind me, Ironsides.” Noticing Jacob’s reaction to the nickname, she laughed. “Oh come on. It could be a whole lot worse than that.”

“I’m sure I’ll find out exactly how much worse when I meet with the High Seat.” Jacob gestured for her to take a seat, and then walked around his desk to fall into his chair. “So? What’s the news on San Marcos?”

Al-shira set a reader on the desk. “From what I heard, nothing much beyond what the High Seat was able to tell you. Our assets in the system were either thrown out or jailed—Admiral Yeseti must have had a list of Navy personnel in the area when she left. The entire world has turned into a black hole for information. We haven’t even managed to get a message from von Clarence.”

Jacob picked up the reader. He ran his eyes across the information listed there. “Do we have any information listed on the ‘militia’ Carmichael has been building up? I’d like to know what kind of defenses we’d be facing if the High Seat has to ask for us to intervene.”

“They have at least forty ships, probably more like fifty. I’d say their forces wouldn’t increase past eighty, but I might be optimistic in saying so.” Al-shira raised an eyebrow at Jacob’s expression. “You know they’ve been preparing for this since the planet was first settled. Carmichael has had
years
to build up the finances and industrial base, and there are a lot of old merchant vessels or other ships they could convert into pocket warships. None of them would stand up to a dreadnaught at railgun range, but at distance…”

Jacob nodded. Converted merchant vessels typically went very heavy on the missile armament and very light on the combat armor. It made sense, given the fragile nature of most merchant ships, but it also severely limited their use in combat once the enemy got close enough to engage them directly. “Do we know if they’ve gotten their hands on any actual warships, or are they only depending on their converted haulers?”

Al-shira shook her head. “We can’t be sure without any direct information on the system, but from what we’ve seen all the units in the Navy have remained where they were supposed to be.” She glanced away for a moment. “From what I’ve heard, a lot of morale problems have cropped up in Admiral Yeseti’s former command area, but we haven’t seen the kind of mass mutinies or desertions we might have expected otherwise. Her agents might still be lying in wait, but they haven’t reacted by riftjumping off to San Marcos to join her.”

“They might still be passing information to her, though.” Jacob tapped through a few more pages of information and hit the end. It was far too short, but given how long Yeseti had been able to work at erasing or altering things for her new friends, they should be grateful they had any information at all. He looked up. “Is there something else Naomi?”

Al-shira’s expression turned solemn. “Yes, Sir. There is.” She shifted her feet. “Sir, you’re High Admiral now.”

Alarm bells rang in Jacob’s head. “Yes, Captain, I am.”

There was a pause, and then Al-shira drew in a deep breath. “I’m worried you’re going to face a lot of criticism because we…might have something of a personal relationship.”

Jacob shrugged defensively. “It doesn’t matter, Naomi. I’ve faced this kind of thing before, and I will face it again.”

“It’s different this time.” When he started to protest, Al-shira held up a hand to stop him. “You’re a public official now, Jacob, one with a much higher standard of behavior than you had as a mere admiral. Your every move is going to be under scrutiny, and your opponents aren’t going to cut you any slack. Rumors about an unprofessional relationship with a subordinate are going to give them ammunition they can use against you.”

Jacob opened his mouth to snap back at her. Then he stopped himself and tried to reign in his first reaction. “So what are you saying, Naomi? Is there something you want me to do?”

Al-shira shrugged. “I don’t know. All I
do
know is I don’t want to be the weapon they use to get at you.” She met his eyes. “Even if it means not being near you.”

“I…see.” He could, in a way. Not that he understood how to solve the problem. He shook his head again to clear it of his frustration. “I guess this is probably the best time to talk about your next assignment then.”

“My next assignment?” Al-shira’s expression had grown uncertain. “What would that be?”

Jacob forced himself to grin. “You might be a little skeptical, but it is something I came up with before we got the message from Celostia.” He looked away and tried to smooth the roughness from his voice. “The damage Admiral Yeseti has done goes deeper than anything she might tell Carmichael or even the Odurans. Intelligence, as a department, is going to be honeycombed with her spies, and even if it wasn’t, morale there is going to be shot.”

There was a long pause before Al-shira responded. “That would be correct, Sir.”

Jacob tapped one finger on the desk for a moment, staring at the reader in front of him. Then he met her gaze again. “I’m glad you agree. We need someone to start straightening out the mess—to begin rooting out Yeseti’s moles and rebuilding the department’s assets. That’s going to be your job, effective immediately.”

Al-shira’s eyes narrowed. She searched his face for a moment, as if looking for clues. “You’re certain about this, Jacob? It’s going to look like favoritism, no matter how you spin it.”

“To hell with what they think, Naomi!” Jacob struggled to regain control of his temper. “You’re right. I’m High Admiral now, and you’re probably right about the rumors and suspicions, but that’s going to be true no matter where I put you. I need
someone I trust to do this, and you’re it.” He allowed a flicker of bitterness to seep into his tone. “Of course, if you don’t feel competent for it, you could always submit your resignation. Sit the rest of the war out?”

Al-shira gave him a glare that could have burned paint off a hull. “Thanks but no thanks,
Sir
.” She gestured to the hatch. “You’re sure there’s no one else? Why not Isaac?”

Jacob didn’t flinch. “Isaac might have the skills, but he isn’t reliable. He has too much baggage, especially when it comes to anyone connected to Kenning. I need to have someone I can count on to do her duty, no matter what happens. Someone I can count on to see things clearly, no matter what their personal feelings might be. Most importantly, I need someone who will work like hell to make this investigation turn our Intelligence community into something useful again, rather than making it a witch-hunt. Can you do that, Captain Al-shira?”

Al-shira studied him so long Jacob started to think she might refuse, as if searching for any sign of insincerity or doubt. Then she nodded sharply. “Damn it, Jacob. You never make things easy, you know that?”

“Turnabout is fair play, Captain.” Jacob pushed himself up out of his seat. “Now, I’m sure you’re going to need some time to put together a plan of action. I expect a report from you as soon as possible.”

“As ordered, High Admiral.” She hadn’t stopped glaring at him.

A humorous part of Jacob’s mind noted he didn’t know if that was a good sign or a bad one.

“Is there anything else you’d like to say to me, sir?”

“No.” Jacob walked to the door and opened it. “Thank you for your concern, Captain Al-shira.
Dismissed.”

Al-shira saluted and left. Jacob watched her go, feeling a combination of anger, frustration, and guilt roiling in his gut. Until that moment, he hadn’t thought it was possible gain everything he’d hoped for and still feel like he’d lost the only thing that mattered to him. Then he turned and started on his own journey through the corridors. He did have another assignment to make, and he only hoped it was less of an argument than this one had been.