Eagle (Jacob Hull) (4 page)

Al-shira raised an eyebrow. “Are you saying we’re facing war profiteers? Can’t the High Seat look into that sort of thing?”

A dissatisfied expression fixed itself on Leon’s face. “He can, but it doesn’t seem to be the source of the problem.” He gestured toward the general direction of the conference room. “It actually looks like it is the result of stockpiling by a few prominent local militias. They’ve taken the losses at Tiredel as a sign they need to start stockpiling weapons, and the contractors who normally supply us are being pressured into selling to those groups as well. They aren’t able to keep up with demand, and as a result a lot of our most isolated patrols are running short of material.”

“Patrols like Tiredel you mean.” Jacob grimaced when Leon nodded, and put a hand over his eyes. “How bad is it there?”

“Captain Kimonov reported that unless he was resupplied soon, he would be forced to withdraw to the supply base at Richland in the next week.” Leon delivered the information in a flat, neutral tone. “I took the liberty of ordering a freighter out his way as soon as possible, but he’ll most likely meet it on his way back to the base. Hopefully he won’t be absent from his post for long.”

Ashford snorted again, and Jacob found himself in complete agreement. He closed his eyes for a moment. “Okay. Get orders out to nearby units to cover the area Kimonov has left open as much as they can. Is there any other situation I need to know about immediately?”

Leon shrugged. “None I am aware of, but as long as the Independents continue to stockpile for their militias, we are probably going to keep running into these kinds of issues.”

Al-shira caught Jacob’s eye and grinned. Leon had a few ideological blind spots—the man was a staunch Federalist, despite his good points—but he had a valid concern nonetheless.

Frustrated, Jacob rubbed at his temples with both hands. “So we’re running out of resources for the refits, our patrols are running low on supplies, and the rest of the Navy wants to wait until the Odurans come to burn us from the stars before they will do anything to stop them. Is that an accurate summary?”

Al-shira and Leon both nodded, and Jacob sighed again.

“Why does it seem like it would have been easier if I just let the pirates shoot me back in Reefhome?”

The other two
chuckled, and even Ashford cracked a hint of a smile. Jacob leaned forward and smiled when an idea came to him. “All right, here’s what we could do. My operational authority includes the yards here at New Vermont, the
Eagle
, and a few other areas like Tiredel and Reefhome along the border, right?” The others nodded again, uncertain, and Jacob grinned at them. “Then we are going to have to work with what we have instead of wishing for more.” Al-shira shifted in her seat, and Jacob looked over at her. “Yes, Captain?”

She smiled. “If you don’t object, Sir, I think I might be able to gather a few more assets. The other admirals haven’t exactly embraced the refitted designs, right?” When Jacob made sour sound of agreement, Al-shira continued. “Well, if they don’t have confidence in them, they might be willing to part with them. If I could trade for those ships, we might be able to increase our available firepower.”

“Do it.” If his fellow admirals were blind to the advantages those refits could bring, Jacob would feel no guilt about using their ignorance to his advantage. “Just be careful. Don’t do anything that might alert the other officers on the Admiralty Board about what you’re doing.”

Al-shira raised one eyebrow in a way that made Jacob feel as if he was standing on very thin ice. “I think I can manage that,
Admiral
. You just make sure my work gets put to good use.”

Leon looked back and forth between them. “I see how more ships can be useful, but what exactly are you planning on using them for, if I might ask?”

“That’s actually going to relate to what I’m going to ask you to do, Captain Nivrosky.” Jacob paused, trying to organize his thoughts carefully. “The first chance you get, I need you to return to Celostia and meet with the High Seat. Try and organize your visit to be timed with some other minor task so you don’t attract attention.”

Leon studied Jacob with a wary expression on his face. “And may I ask what the topic of my conversation will be when I meet with High Seat Smithson?”

Jacob gave Leon a hard-edged smile. “I want you to convince him to authorize an offensive operation by the units under my command against the Oduran League. If possible, I want that authorization within the month.”

Leon’s jaw dropped. It took a few moments for him to recover sufficiently. “Jacob, the other admirals—”

“Have expressed their disagreement, yes.” Jacob shrugged. “They aren’t going to approve a general attack, and that is within their authority. What the ships under
my
command do, however, is none of their business as long as I get the approval of the High Seat.” He sat back and looked from Leon to Al-shira and back. “We may not be able to launch a strike on all of the Oduran bases, but we
can
make up for it by hitting at least one target in their territory. If we can hit them hard enough in a good spot, we might be able to stall their assault long enough to give us time to recover. Especially if we take out the base closest to Tiredel.”

Al-shira leaned back and her smile grew. “At the same time, you could prove the effectiveness of the refitted ships, as well as securing a solid victory for the Navy. That might help out with our funding problems.”

“It would be hard for the rest of the Admiralty Board to continue to fight you on overall strategy as well.” Leon nodded slowly, but concerned expression had not faded. “Still, we’ll be going in alone, Admiral Hull.  You’re risking being trapped in Oduran territory or destroyed if they know you’re coming. Worse, if you make it back, but you suffer a severe defeat…”

Jacob smiled. Leon didn’t have to finish his sentence; they all knew what kind of a gamble this plan was. Unfortunately, there wasn’t another option. If he did nothing, the Navy would be crushed—and that would be a result Jacob could never accept. Not after so much had already been sacrificed.

“It’s a risk we have to take, Captain. If you come up with a better plan, I’d be the first to want to hear it, but as things are…” Jacob shrugged, and he saw reluctant acceptance on his friend’s face. Then he stood. “Let me know if either of you hit a snag, but as for now, this will be our plan going forward. Thank you for your support.”

Leon rose as well.
“Yes, Sir. You can count on us.”

Al-shira
stood, her expression confidant. “Yes, Sir. We’ll get started right away.”

“Good.” Jacob glanced down at his reader and blinked when he saw the time. “I have to go; my new flag captain is waiting for me. I’ll check back with you both when I can to see how things are going.” He returned their salutes on the way to the door where Ashford was waiting. The Marine keyed the hatch and followed him out into the corridor, where his other bodyguards were waiting.

As they left the conference room behind, Jacob could feel a strategy start to take shape. He smiled to himself as he imagined how angry some of his opponents would be if they knew what he was planning. Then again, the Odurans would probably be even angrier, but he had no problem with that. No problem at all.

Chapter Four

“…And so, from what the yards were telling us, we should have all our railguns online by the end of the day.” Captain Martino’s voice remained even and professional, though Jacob was aware of the stress the man had to be facing. As commander of the flagship in the Celostian Navy, he had the burden of setting an example of discipline and readiness for the rest of the fleet—a difficult thing to accomplish when the ship in question was barely a handful of days out of the repair docks.

“I’m glad to hear it, Captain.” Jacob looked around the compartment assigned to Fire Control and restrained a whistle. Unlike the smaller destroyers where Jacob had served the majority of his time in the Navy, the
Eagle
had enough weaponry to require a more centralized approach to targeting. The dreadnaught still had individual railgun decks, just as
Wolfhound
did, but each deck communicated with the central command station to select targets and coordinate firing.

The Fire Control deck had been optimally designed for the task. The deck was arranged like a grand theater, station after targeting station set into a crew pit. Each of
Eagle
’s seventy-two railguns could display its targeting data here, where it could be monitored and refined by the chorus of analysts at the computers in the pit.
Eagle
’s twelve missile launchers could also have their targets assigned and analyzed for potential weaknesses by those computers. Above it all was a projection of the nearby area, where the officer in charge of all
Eagle
’s firepower could supervise the damage being wrought on the enemy forces from the stage above the crew pit.

Jacob smiled to himself as he thought of the glee Isaac would have shown at being in command of so much firepower. The lack of high-speed railguns would have disappointed him for a bit, but perhaps the sheer magnitude of the
Eagle
’s armament would have made up for the deficiency. If only…

Jacob’s thoughts cut off abruptly as the memories of his last meeting with Isaac came back to him. Since Laurie’s death at Tiredel, his former friend had withdrawn into himself, shutting out anyone who attempted to get close. The Navy’s psychiatrists had certified Isaac was clear to return to duty, though they’d hedged enough in their reports that Jacob had not been convinced they were sure of their diagnosis. Even now, Isaac was a grim person, not very much like the cheerful, mischievous man who had been a close companion since their first assignment together aboard the
Wolfhound
.

Sweeping those thoughts from his mind, Jacob turned his attention back to Captain Martino. “The ship seems to be in very good condition, Captain, and I want to thank you for all your hard work. The Navy has been without a flagship for too long. Your work has been a credit to all of us.”

Martino’s expression flickered with some unreadable emotion, and then he smiled slightly. “Thank you, Sir. Your compliments will be appreciated by our engineering crews.” He paused. “I understand one of them has served with you several times before. A Lieutenant Commander Turley?”

Jacob grinned, and some of his good mood returned. “I’m very familiar with Lieutenant Commander Turley. I hope he’s managed to behave himself?”

Amusement flashed across Captain Martino's face, quickly buried beneath his mask of professionalism. “Yes, Sir. At least, I think he’s trying, Sir.”

A chuckle broke through Jacob’s self-discipline, and he gestured helplessly. “Well, just let me know if he gives you any trouble, Captain. We may be old friends, but Turley knows better than to push the limits too far.”

A corner of Captain Martino’s mouth twitched in a half-smile. “I believe he said much the same about you, Sir.” Then he paused, his hand twitching toward his communications stub in his collar. “If you’ll excuse me, Sir.”

Martino stepped away for a moment, listening to whatever message had drawn his attention. Jacob waited patiently for the murmured conversation to end, taking the opportunity to watch the junior officers and enlisted personal at work in Fire Control. They seemed a little nervous—understandable considering a flag officer was poking his nose into their daily routine—but none of them seemed openly hostile or disruptive. It was going to be something of a change to have a crew who didn’t have discipline issues to deal with; Jacob wondered if he would be able to adapt.

Then Jacob caught himself and shook his head. The
Eagle
wasn’t his ship; it was Captain Martino’s. He had other things to worry about beside crew discipline. Being a flag officer was obviously going to take a bit more of an adjustment than he’d thought.

Captain Martino turned back to Jacob, his face carefully composed. “Sir, I have to return to the bridge. I’ve asked Commander Godel to continue your tour. Is there anything else I can help you with before I go?”

Jacob blinked. “No, Captain. Thank you very much for the tour of your ship.” It was rather unusual for a flag captain to excuse himself in the middle of a tour, but at the same time he had experienced the role of a ship captain enough to know the occasional emergency popped up. Of course, some flag officers might have taken the abandonment as a sign of disrespect, but Jacob didn’t believe such was the case in Martino’s situation. Captain Martino was a veteran of half a dozen battles against Telosians and Odurans all along the border of the Union, and he was one of the few high-ranking captains who unequivocally endorsed Jacob’s position as the next High Admiral. To offer Jacob an intentional insult at the same time would have been remarkably inconsistent.

Commander Godel arrived after only a short minute, and the personnel in Fire Control visibly relaxed when Jacob followed the junior officer from the compartment. Trying to hide a smile of his own, Jacob turned to the newly arrived officer. “Thank you for your help, Commander Godel. I appreciate the guide.”

Godel showed little reaction. Her expression was very, very neutral. Jacob hoped her mood was not influenced by the need to escort her superior throughout the giant dreadnaught. “You’re welcome, Sir. I believe you wanted to see Central Countermeasures next?”

Jacob gestured for her to proceed ahead of him. “That would be fine.” He followed the morose officer through the passages of the
Eagle
, but his thoughts kept turning back to the emergency that had called Captain Martino away. Had there been some other issue with the dreadnaught’s systems, or was it an urgent situation related to the crew in some way? It could have even been a personal matter, though Jacob doubted the captain would commit such a breach of etiquette over something minor.

Making a mental note to check up on the situation, Jacob continued his tour of his flagship and wondered if the rest of his plans were going to have as many difficulties as the
Eagle
had already experienced.

Later that day, once Jacob had seen the last of the main compartments on the
Eagle
, Commander Godel showed him to his quarters. She left him there and returned to her duties as the chief medical officer aboard the dreadnaught. Jacob was left feeling a bit overwhelmed by the large quarters he’d been given. He soon retreated to the more comfortably functional office located conveniently nearby.

Jacob began to go over the reports he’d received during the day. It seemed like every single piece of bureaucracy the shipyards and local defense forces managed to generate ended up in his computer, whether he felt it was useful to him or not. Over the past six months, Jacob had been forced to develop a system for dealing with those reports. He started by searching for information he actually was interested in dealing with at the moment, rather than slogging through materials inventories and routine patrol reports.

At the moment, what interested him was the condition of his flagship.

It did not take long before a disturbing pattern started to emerge. While Jacob had been aware the yards had experienced a few incidents during
Eagle
’s refit, he was realizing just how serious some of those accidents had been. There had been several—including a malfunctioning fusion reactor and an accident with some of the missile warheads— that very well could have destroyed the flagship altogether, along with nearly half the New Vermont shipyards.

As he scrolled through the information, absorbing accident after accident, Jacob felt a creeping suspicion steal over him. There was too much going wrong here, too many incidental coincidences adding up to form an uncomfortable whole. Alone, any one of the accidents could have been dismissed, and in fact, most of them likely would have been. Together, they showed a very disturbing pattern that seemed far too familiar.

Jacob thought back to his first cruise aboard the
Wolfhound
. The treachery that had led to the deaths of every superior officer aboard the destroyer had started at the shipyards. Could the Odurans or the Telosians have managed to sneak agents into the New Vermont shipyards again? Could unseen agents be attempting to sabotage the construction of the Union’s new warship?

His misgivings only deepened as he dug through more of the reports, this time the ones that had been logged after the
Eagle
had launched for her shakedown run. Accidents became far less frequent—understandable, given the less dangerous atmosphere compared to a construction slip—but incidents continued to crop up. Life support equipment discovered in poor condition and fixed before the heat could overload the rest of the ship. Ammunition found in a compromising position, where a simple course change might have caused a catastrophe. The list continued to grow, and so did Jacob’s unease.

After a few more suspicious reports, Jacob decided to speak with Captain Martino about the issue. He reached for the communication controls and stopped when he realized he didn’t know how to frame the questions he needed to ask—at least, not without accusing the captain of complicity or negligence. Then he smiled and decided on a different tactic.

Main Engineering was not nearly as fancy as Fire Control or Central Countermeasures had been. Instead of a grand, orchestral chamber or a centralized hub of information and data, Main Engineering looked as if someone had found a little unused space within the gigantic dreadnaught’s hull and managed to squeeze in a few computer consoles and projection units. Piping and cables ran above the small clearing in the machinery, and engineers were packed in around the equipment in clusters. It was loud, cramped, and busy, which meant it matched almost every other Engineering compartment Jacob could remember visiting. He tried to smooth the fond smile from his face as he approached.

One of the junior officers stiffened in recognition when Jacob came close. The senior officer looked up from a schematic he’d been studying and turned around. A smile instantly creased the engineer’s bearded features, even as he saluted. “Well, if it isn’t a visit from the damned high and mighty? Admiral Hull, good to see you.”

Jacob returned the salute with a smile of his own. “Lieutenant Commander Turley, good to have you aboard.” He glanced at the lieutenant Turley had been talking to. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

Turley snorted and smirked at the junior officer, who seemed acutely uncomfortable with the scrutiny. “Run along, Lieutenant Schloss. The Admiral’s informing me we have an appointment he forgot to schedule.”

Looking grateful and relieved, the lieutenant saluted and then retreated back into the safety of his fellows, leaving Turley and Jacob to speak in privacy.

Before Jacob could say anything, Turley gestured to the schematic he’d been reading. “Here about the accidents, are you?” Seeing Jacob’s surprised look, Turley laughed. “Sir, I know you and I know this ship. If you hadn’t come down here eventually to talk about the way things have been going here, you’d have been a damn fool.”

Jacob shrugged. “Well, I’m glad to have exceeded your expectations, Lieutenant Commander.” Turley chuckled, and Jacob pressed forward, keeping his voice too low for eavesdroppers. “So you’ve already been looking into the possibility of sabotage?”

Turley nodded, all cheer falling away from his expression. “Yeah. That. Let’s go for a walk, Sir.” He gestured for Jacob to walk along a corridor filled with machinery and access tunnels, and they started off together through the chaos of the Engineering section. The engineer remained silent for a while before he started. “As I said, Sir, I’ve already been looking into things—on orders from Captain Martino, might I add—and what we’re generally looking at is a damn fine mess.”

Alarm filled Jacob, and his heart started to beat faster. He pictured those first frantic moments aboard the
Wolfhound
when the built-in bombs had exploded, when Commander Rodgers and his officers were killed. It was an effort to keep his voice steady. “How bad are we talking, Turley?”

The engineer shook his head. “No bombs built in or anything like that. I’ve got a team of people checking the ship on a regular basis. People I could trust, like Lieutenant Burns you recommended to me.” Turley gestured to the ship as a whole. “No, this is much worse. This, my dear admiral, is politics.”

Jacob stared at the engineer, wondering if Turley had gotten a little senile in the past few months.

Turley caught sight of Jacob’s expression and laughed. “Do you need a clearer explanation, Admiral?”