Eagle (Jacob Hull) (19 page)

Before Jacob could respond to von Clarence’s dismissive tone, Nathan spoke next. “I can tell you that before they deported us, there was no hint of any other plots
against the Union. I doubt the public on San Marcos is even aware of Admiral Yeseti’s arrival there, or her attempt to kill you.”

Jacob grunted. “So there’s not a whole lot to gain by accusing them of complicity then?”

Al-Kesh shook his head. Jacob tried hard not to glare at him. “It is likely that if you send ships to collect her, the leadership will pretend she is not there. San Marcos may have offered her an unofficial sanctuary, and any attempt to search for her may lead to an escalation of conflict. Further, it would play right into Carmichael’s hands by giving him a prime example of what a threat the Navy can be to him and his people. You would end up empty-handed, and Carmichael’s position in power would be solidified.”

“Great.” Jacob couldn’t help the growl in his voice, despite how von Clarence glared. The situation was not looking extremely good.
“Anything else? Has Carmichael somehow managed to discover how to launch the Union directly into a black hole or something? Or maybe he’s going to convince the rest of my admirals to turn on me and try to kill me?”

The bitterness in his voice embarrassed both Nathan and Al-Kesh. Both looked away as if trying not to acknowledge Jacob’s frustrations. Von Clarence, on the other hand, merely offered him a sardonic little smile. “There is one more thing Admiral Hull.”

Jacob resisted the urge to groan and covered his eyes with one hand. He braced himself. “What is it?”

“In our last hours on San Marcos, I visited one of their diplomatic stations.” Von Clarence’s voice was even. He didn’t seem intimidated by Jacob’s growing irritation at all. “I was attempting to stop the process of their removal of our mission from their planet. My protests did little good, but it did give me the chance to notice something.”

Von Clarence’s tone grew cautious, and Jacob blinked in surprise. Caution was not a word he’d associated with the former High Seat, and he doubted that much could worry the man. If he was concerned, it was probably something crucial. Jacob gestured for von Clarence to continue.

“The consulate was preparing for something, some kind of new arrival. I heard a lot of chatter about some kind of trade mission that was on the way, and the
staff who were working that day seemed irritated when I discussed it with them. Most either ignored my questions completely or evaded the subject as much as they could.”

Jacob frowned. “Given their secrecy, they probably didn’t want you prying into their affairs. That seems logical.”

“True.” Von Clarence nodded, and then he hesitated again. “I don’t believe it was a simple trade embassy, however. If these visitors were only going to be some delegation from the Union, there would be little need for secrecy since I could discover it the moment I came back to Union territory. If they were from some portion of the Frontier, surely they could not provide enough benefits to warrant such extensive preparations.”

A chill went through Jacob when he realized what von Clarence was hinting at. He stared at von Clarence for a few more moments. When he forced himself to speak, his voice was hoarse. “That’s not possible. There’s no way even a bunch of separatists would do what I think you’re implying.”

Von Clarence met his eyes stubbornly. “I’m not saying I have definitive proof, Admiral. I’m merely telling you what I observed.” Then he met Jacob’s gaze again, and his voice was firm. “Nevertheless, I would consider it wise if you were careful to consider the possibility. Carmichael and the rest of his people might well have been preparing to receive ambassadors from the Oduran League.” He glanced at the hatch, as if he could see all the way to where the Oathbound were living on Tiredel. “Given our situation, I would consider the possibility very carefully indeed.”

The
Eagle
’s main shuttle bays were very different from the VIP bays Jacob was accustomed to. Where the VIP bays were secluded and relatively quiet, the port main bay was a riot of shuttles arriving and departing.
Eagle
was large enough it could afford a modified lock system that allowed shuttles to dock with the dreadnaught without waiting for the entire bay to depressurize and repressurize each time. A shuttle would approach, glide through one set of giant armored hatches, wait for a moment while the smaller space filled with atmosphere, and then glide through to land inside the bay itself.

There were half a dozen of those hatches in the port bay alone, and all of them were busy launching or receiving shuttles. Jacob shuddered to think what kind of damage an Oduran missile might do to the area, but the bays were locked down during combat and located at the rear of the ship where the enemy would have a hard time targeting them. In fact, Jacob mused, an Oduran craft approaching from that angle would likely arget their DE sail rigs instead.
Not the most cheerful possibility, but when the choice was between massive internal explosions or crippled propulsion units, there wasn’t a lot of happiness to spread around.

As if summoned by the thought, Ashford’s voice echoed across the busy shuttle bay. “Well I’ll be damned! High Admiral Jacob Hull, come to see me off.”

Jacob turned and saw the Marine officer being escorted to his craft. Ashford was still pale, and one of his honor guard was from the
Eagle
’s medical staff, but he seemed to be recovering well. It was an incredible relief to see him walking on his own two feet, though he wasn't entirely steady yet. The Marine did not salute; his right arm had been taken off just above the elbow.

Determined to not even glance at the Marine’s missing arm, Jacob locked his gaze onto Ashford’s face and nodded. “I couldn’t let you leave without saying thank you one last time, General. I owe you my life.”

“And I hope you don’t forget it, Sir.” Ashford looked as sour as ever, and he grumbled to himself. “I also hope you don’t think I’m going to rot in the paperwork hell you’ve got waiting for me. It won’t be long before you’re going to have to deal with me again soon.”

“I look forward to it, General Ashford.” Jacob nodded again and stepped to one side to let Ashford and his retinue past. “Have a safe journey. The Admiralty Board will be waiting for you to familiarize yourself with your command and return.”

Ashford grunted again and stepped forward. Then he paused, and he looked at Jacob with more serious eyes. “Give them hell, Jacob.”

With that, Ashford made his way to his shuttle, still escorted by a bodyguard of his own. Jacob watched him go for a while, and then turned and saw the second person he had come to see off staring at him from across the bay.

Captain Naomi Al-shira was dressed in her finest uniform, as was appropriate. She had requested permission to visit Celostia itself to look for copies of Intelligence reports that predated Admiral Yeseti’s tenure. If there were any clues, she argued, they could be found in the computer records of the capital of the Union, where Yeseti might not have been able to corrupt them. What Yeseti had tried to hide, they could focus on uncovering, and what they uncovered, they could use to stop her.

Jacob was forced to wonder how much of that mission was because of a desire to do her duty and how much was because she wanted to leave the ship. How far would she go to avoid being around him from now on? He squashed that treacherous thought. Then Naomi straightened her shoulders and walked across the deck toward him, her face a professional mask.
“High Admiral.”

“Captain Al-shira.” Jacob returned her sharp salute,
then continued in what he hoped was a neutral tone. “You seem like you are ready to go.”

“I am, Sir.” The firm response stung. Al-shira looked away. “How did your meeting with von Clarence go, Sir?”

Jacob gave her a sidelong glare. “We didn’t punch each other in the face, if that’s what you’re asking. He went on his way to Tiredel unharmed.” She looked at him levelly, and he sighed. “They provided me with some crucial information, but I’m not sure how much of it I trust. Even if they were exaggerating, San Marcos could be just the kind of disaster we aren’t ready to face yet.”

“You may want to ask for support from the remainder of the Admiralty Board then, Sir.” Then Al-shira let out a long breath, and her mask of formality seemed to fade slightly. “Take care of yourself, High Admiral. I’ll be back soon.”

He remained silent for a moment, and then Jacob straightened. “As ordered, Captain. Good hunting on Celostia.”

She saluted, a gesture Jacob returned, and then Al-shira strode away toward the shuttle waiting for her. Jacob watched her go for some time and then turned away. He had a Navy to run now, and it wasn’t going to wait for him to finish moping. If he’d learned anything from Naomi Al-
shira, that much was something he’d taken to heart.

Chapter Eighteen

The meeting of the Admiralty Board was a somber affair this time.

Not all the members of the Board were present. Ashford, the newest member, was still en route to Carvell. Jacob decided it would be best to give the Marine a chance to settle in at the training facility there before placing even more demands on him. Admirals Siddiqui, Mirov, and Borgens were all present, however, and their expressions showed the difference the past few weeks had made in all of them. Siddiqui was grim but determined; Borgens had a permanently sour expression stamped on his face. Mirov was entirely changed. His eyes were hollow, distant; he appeared haunted by the legacy of Yeseti’s betrayal.

It was not the best time to confront these officers with bad news, but Jacob had had no choice. The information he’d received was too urgent to leave untold for long. There was a long pause as he finished the summary of his conversation with Al-Kesh and von Clarence, as well as the basic outline of the plans he’d made to fight the Odurans.

When he’d finished, Borgens was the first to speak. “Well, if Roderick thinks the fools will begin a purge, I say we let them. It will give us plenty of excuses to move in and put down their little rebellion.”

“It would also allow them to frame the conflict as an invasion by the Union.” Siddiqui held up a hand to forestall a harsh response. “Not that I sympathize with these traitors, but their rhetoric has used independence and self-governance as a touchstone. It could help them gain support among those loyal to the Union who are nonetheless…uncomfortable…with the strength of our military.”

Mirov spoke, his voice very soft. “Our actions could also give them the emergency they need to commit further atrocities. If they are willing to initiate a purge of their dissenters, what other tactics would they use to solidify their control?”

Jacob grunted and folded his arms across his chest. “Personally, I do not want to know the answer to that question. Does anyone disagree?”

Borgens shook his head. “I do not doubt the depths to which these separatists can sink, but will we really allow them to hold their own people hostage against us while they threaten the rest of the Union?” He gestured to an image of the border where the star of San Marcos glowed brightly. “If the former High Seat’s information was accurate, San Marcos could very easily fill the vacuum in the Oduran supply chain. In fact, it would support an Oduran strike force even
better
than Kryshaen could have done, simply because it is so much closer to Tiredel. We cannot allow that threat to our security to remain.”

“We may have no other choice.” Mirov looked around at the others to gauge their agreement. “We can’t forget our intelligence operations have been severely compromised. We can trust very few of our information resources, especially when it comes to San Marcos. For all we know, the separatists have three times the number of ships Yeseti allowed to be reported. She could also very well have left traitors and spies
in our midst to report to her if we move toward her refuge. Our ships could enter the system and find themselves in a lethal ambush.”

“At the very least, then, we should attempt to find out if that is the case.” Siddiqui looked at Jacob. “Could I assume my militia scouts might be of use in that effort?”

Borgens snorted. “San Marcos is under a self-imposed blockade to all Union traffic, merchant or otherwise. Besides, our former comrade knew all about our plans to utilize the militia. Surely the separatists will be watching for that trick. Besides, if we are reluctant to send an entire task force to San Marcos, surely we should be just as concerned about sending in armed freighters.”

“You’re right, Admiral Borgens.” Jacob hated the lack of intelligence on the separatist base, and he would have loved nothing more than to charge in shooting, but he could see the sense in the caution the others were advocating. His attack on Kryshaen had been carried out with as much information as he had available, and rushing in this time could undo everything he had worked so hard to gain. “Militia scouts have other responsibilities. Someone has to watch for the Odurans on the border.”

Mirov grimaced. “Especially since the enemy now knows precisely how vulnerable we are. The first thing Yeseti would offer any Oduran envoys on San Marcos would be the details of our deployments and the limited extent of our resources. I would not be surprised if that information encouraged the Odurans to strike much sooner than before—and with a forward base provided by the separatists, they could very well be here tomorrow.”

Jacob nodded slowly. “We’ll need to be on the alert for that possibility. Admiral Siddiqui, we may need to adjust the positions of our scouts, given the damage Yeseti might have caused. They also need to be aware the enemy might move any day now.”

Siddiqui drummed her fingers on the table in front of her. “The orders will be sent out immediately, High Admiral.” She glanced back at the image of the border, frowning. “It would be easier if we could somehow find out what plans the enemy is making. Even a small picture of their intentions could make the difference.”

“The officers in Intelligence will be working to regain that information, Admiral, but it will be a difficult process.” Jacob tried to keep his words patient. It was difficult, especially as he felt those same frustrations so clearly himself.

“Intelligence is working on it?” Borgens snorted. “I doubt they’ll get far. Even if Yeseti didn’t slip her own people in throughout the department, she’ll see their agents coming. She knows all their procedures, all their tricks—hell, the woman wrote half of their operations manual. How are they going to get around that?”

“A good question, Admiral Borgens, but perhaps a better one would be if they should try in the first place.” Admiral Mirov’s voice was stronger, and his expression grew more optimistc. He was on the edge of saying something, but then he paused for a long moment, apparently deep in thought. Jacob was about to prompt the man with a question when Mirov finally spoke again.

“We’ve been thinking about ways to discover the plans of the enemy and ways we can avoid weakening ourselves. What if we shift our focus to ways we could make the enemy
change
those plans to something we can anticipate?”

Jacob frowned. “What do you mean, Admiral Mirov?”

Mirov gestured toward San Marcos. “We know the separatists and Ilyena Yeseti have agents scattered throughout the fleet. We know they will intercept much of our communications, and  they can prevent us from gaining a similar advantage. What if we deliberately supply them with false information to present them with a false view of events?”

“Like what we did before the attack on Kryshaen?” Jacob looked back at the star map and thought it over. The idea appealed to him, a bright light in a dark room. Then reality intruded. “It would be very difficult to pull off that kind of deception, Admiral, especially against someone who has resources we don’t know about.”

“Well, we do know none of us are traitors, don’t we?” Borgens looked around at his fellow officers. His expression betrayed a stubborn kind of determination. “We can outsmart Yeseti if we need to. Perhaps we can develop a code outside of the normal encryption to send each other false messages. That way, should Yeseti and her rabble manage to listen in on our traffic, we can present a false picture of our plans to the dear, treacherous woman.”

Siddiqui tapped one finger on the table, her expression thoughtful. “We may have another conduit for information as well. We believe the separatists intend to expel their dissidents and send them to Tiredel, correct?” When the others nodded, Siddiqui continued. “Were I in their frame of mind, I would assume Tiredel would be the center of the plans against them. It would be simple to send spies among the refugees.”

Jacob thought it over. “That would make sense. How would we be able to tell the difference between a refugee and a San Marcos spy, though?”

The other officer smiled. “As some have taken great pains to explain to me, a volunteer militia and a military officer are two very different people in terms of professional behavior. Perhaps the same principle might apply to espionage?”

Borgens began to chuckle, and even Mirov’s solemn expression cracked into a small half-smile. Jacob filtered the amusement from his own voice as he answered. “I believe you may be correct, Admiral Siddiqui. Perhaps we can use those amateur spies to our own advantage. What information should we feed them?”

“Perhaps information about our reserves?
Or additional refits ordered by the new High Admiral?” Borgens leaned forward and laced his fingers together in front of him. He raised one white eyebrow. “False news of transfer orders or disruption throughout the Union might also help. We could very easily tempt them into feeling overconfident, or convince them we are stronger than they expected. It might be a useful tool to use against them.”

Jacob felt confidence flood him as he looked around at the other officers. He nodded.
“All right. Let’s get a set of signals together and agree on a strategy for how we will go forward.” Then he paused and smiled. “By the end of this, maybe we’ll even have a way to keep this next war from starting. We’ll have to see.”

Two days later, Jacob was sitting in the command center, pondering over his next destination. His original operational plans would have called for him to go to New Manassas. There, he would have been able to coordinate with Admiral Mirov to set the trap for the Oduran forces. With one sharp victory, they could have ended the war.

Now, with Yeseti on the loose and Al-Kesh’s warnings echoing in the back of his mind, he was no longer sure. The other admirals had already departed, each with their own mission. Siddiqui went to Erad, both to coordinate with the local militia and also to begin her part of the deception campaign. Admiral Borgens would soon join her after a quick stop at Celostia to organize his own part of the ruse. The two admirals would also begin increasing the defenses there, hoping to guard against an Oduran strike.

The only question now was where to position the
Eagle.
Did he value the chance to work with Mirov at New Manassas more, or the need to reinforce Tiredel? It was times like these Jacob sincerely regretted letting Al-shira leave. She had good reasons to go, but he was starting to realize more and more how much he missed her insight during times such as this one. Her perspective, he was sure, would have been clearer than his own.

He was still wavering between choices when he was jarred out of his thoughts by a blinking light on his command console. It was another message from Captain Martino. Jacob pressed the button, praying his flag captain wouldn’t be giving him more bad news.

“Sir, a message drone just arrived from Tiredel.” The utter seriousness of Martino’s voice ruined Jacob’s hopes. “I think this is something you’re going to want to see. It’s on channel four-fifty.”

Jacob sighed. Punching in the frequency, he blinked as the projection unit activated and the image of a man appeared in the air.

Wes Carmichael was a slender, athletic-looking man. He might have been considered handsome by some, but there was a tangible sense of contempt in his features, as if he was constantly repressing the urge to sneer. The smile with which he began his transmission was sly and cunning, and his words were colored by a petulant defiance Jacob immediately associated with the would-be aristocracy of the Celostian Union.

“I, Governor Wes Carmichael of the San Marcos Collective, address the nearby citizens of the Celostian Union and their scheming, tyrannical masters.”

Jacob blinked, and he had a sinking feeling in his stomach as those words registered. The Celostian Union had a post such as governor, but Carmichael had not been recognized as such—and there was no such thing as a Collective in the Union’s power structure. Carmichael was declaring separation, and doing so in a way that was irrevocable. Even as those realities assailed Jacob, Carmichael’s recording continued.

“We have decided our people have endured the plots and subversion of our inherent rights long enough. The corruption of the Celostian Union, the dictatorial aims of many of its
officers, and the foolish and decadent lifestyles of its people are no longer tolerable to us. We have decided to set ourselves apart from such catastrophic failures on the part of the Union, and as such, we now declare ourselves an independent power in the Frontier.”

Carmichael leaned forward, his eyes glittering with hatred. “Be aware that no violation of Collective space will be tolerated. Our valiant defense forces will punish any attempt to spy on our world with lethal consequences, and we remain as prepared as ever to resist and repel invasion by outside interests. Though we wish only peace, we will not be subdued or ignored.

“Further, we will no longer tolerate the insidious lies of the emissaries sent by the Union to undermine and sabotage our freedoms. Those who have allied themselves with the petty dictators and corrupt officials of the Union will be banished from our world.” Carmichael smiled, though there was no laughter in the twist of his lips. “You may rest assured every effort will be made to make their journey comfortable and humane—which is far more than such treachery deserves. There is no need to offer them any aid or relief, because their fate is only what they deserve for betraying the cause of the people out of a misguided sense of loyalty to a failed and broken system.”

Carmichael straightened and made a contemptuous gesture. “Finally, to the supposed High Admiral, Jacob Hull, we know of your intentions to destroy this people, and we stand ready to repel you. Do not take our words lightly. You may have managed to subvert the Navy and gain control of the weapons you hope to use against us, but we will not allow you to destroy our freedom. Your petty tactics and false words will not deter us from following the cause of the people.
Governor Carmichael, out.”