Eagle (Jacob Hull) (8 page)

Brow still furrowed, the former High Seat leaned forward as if he meant to continue the debate, but Nathaniel touched his arm with one hand. Von Clarence glanced back at him in surprise, and Nathaniel spoke in a clear tenor voice. “Your efforts to safeguard the area are appreciated, Admiral Hull. The Oathbound know they owe you their lives and are grateful for your continued diligence in securing their new home.”

Jacob’s irritation lessened, and he nodded at Nathaniel. “I can only hope we will continue to be able to do so, sir—
and  they will grow into the sort of citizens  the Union will always be proud to defend.”

Nathaniel nodded in turn, and von Clarence turned his attention back to Jacob. “So that is your only purpose here, Admiral Hull?
To safeguard Tiredel from foreign incursion?”

The questioning tone stoked the fires of Jacob’s temper again. He had no intention of revealing his actual operational plans to someone so far outside the Navy’s command structure, no matter how privileged and decorated their background. “I’m afraid I cannot discuss specifics with you, Mr. von Clarence, but I can assure you High Seat Smithson has already approved our mission.” Smithson finally had approved, once Jacob shared Isaac’s tactical footage. The sight of Odurans arriving right on Tiredel’s front door had been more than enough to convince the High Seat the threat was real. All Jacob needed now was for a few supply ships to arrive, and they would be on their way.

For a moment, von Clarence studied Jacob with skepticism. Then he sighed and sat back. “It is most unfortunate, Admiral Hull, that I will need to ask you to alter  mission. The situation in this area of space is too delicate for you to ruin by tromping about the sector with a full battle fleet.”

Outrage flared through Jacob’s mind, and it was a near miracle he kept from launching himself out of his chair. As it was, he limited himself to tightening his hands into white-knuckled fists. “I’m afraid we can’t do that, von Clarence. The Navy is here because it needs to be, not because it suits you.”

Von Clarence’s face grew grim. “Admiral Hull, I believe High Seat Smithson has also mentioned
my
current mission, am I correct?” Jacob remained silent, something von Clarence took as an answer.  “I would have thought he would emphasize just how important my efforts were to the stability of the Union. Your fleet will unbalance those efforts completely, unless you can invent a way for me to calm the separatists in San Marcos while you have a dreadnaught on their doorstep.”

“The last thing on my mind is the small-minded worries of some batch of lunatics.” Jacob let a chill bleed into his voice and hoped it was the only sign of his anger the High Elder could see. “I fail to see how the presence of my ships here matters in any case. It’s not as if we are planning on moving against San Marcos tomorrow.”

Von Clarence raised his eyebrows. “You know that.
I
know that.” He gestured to the far bulkhead, as if San Marcos itself was waiting just beyond the confines of the room. “But do they know that? I don’t believe they do.”

Jacob shook his head. “Then they will have to learn, High Elder. My fleet will stay here for at least two weeks, and then we will move on. Carmichael and his lot can say whatever they want until then.”

“I’m afraid that is just the problem, Admiral Hull.” Nathaniel’s voice was concerned; he looked back and forth between Jacob and von Clarence with anxiety plain on his face. “The presence of these ships here—especially the
Eagle
—plays rather nicely into the political narrative Carmichael has been creating on San Marcos. It will dramatically worsen the situation if we don’t act to change things.”

The worry evident in Nathaniel’s voice went a long way toward dampening Jacob’s dislike for the request—though there had been far too little asking and far too much telling when von Clarence spoke. He decided there was something else going on here. “What do you mean? I know he’s taken the reconstruction of the
Eagle
as a sign we are going to try to become an enforcer for the Union.”

Nathaniel sat back, his expression uncertain. “That is correct, Admiral. What’s more, he’s mentioned several times how much of a threat the ship is to San Marcos specifically. He’s demanded to have civilian and political watchdogs placed onboard to make sure the munitions are kept from being used against Union worlds.”

Von Clarence seemed to have regained control of his own anger; his calm tone of voice had returned. “Even worse than that, Representative Carmichael has chosen the refugees on Tiredel as a scapegoat for his conspiracy theories.” He gestured to the bulkhead again. “He’s concocted some elaborate plot where the refugees under Banks have taken shelter within the Union only to orchestrate its downfall, and the Navy has become their tool for that purpose. Your presence here, with the
Eagle
as your flagship, would serve that narrative all too well.”

Jacob considered those words, mulling the situation over. “So the important thing would be for me to deny the San Marcos politicians the ammunition they would need to claim I was getting ready for an assault on them. Is that right?”

Nathaniel and von Clarence both nodded. Jacob smiled. “Fortunately, I don’t plan on staying here. There is another concern, though. Has the San Marcos militia still been performing a buildup?” Both men nodded a second time. “Then how do we know Carmichael and the rest aren’t planning on a preemptive strike? Why wouldn’t they hit Tiredel the day after I leave and take my fleet with me?”

The question gave both men pause, and this time the third man spoke up. Al-Kesh was much different from his companions. Where Nathaniel was genteel and cultured and von Clarence was bluff and unmovable, this man carried a sort of nervous anxiety about him. His feet shifted almost constantly, and when he spoke, his voice was a hesitant drawl that was half-familiar to Jacob’s ears. “I believe the San Marcos militia will remain contained for now. They wouldn’t attack the Tiredel refugees—at least, not yet.”

Jacob gave him an amused look. “That’s a great opinion to have, Mr. Al-Kesh, but I’m afraid we’ll need—”

“Let him finish, please.” Von Clarence’s voice was not quite sharp; the calm, smooth tone was too controlled for that. All the same, the order was no less direct, and Jacob cut off abruptly to glare at the man. The former High Seat’s attention was still on Al-Kesh, however, who continued before Jacob could start his own response.

“The leaders of the San Marcos movement are clearly building up to something big—probably separation from the Union, or treachery, or maybe just an attempt to posture for concessions from Celostia.” Al-Kesh dropped his gaze to his own hands when Jacob turned back to stare at him. He kept his attention fixed there as he continued. “To do that they need three things: a unified populace, a credible outside threat, and sufficient military power to make Celostia listen. Their people are reasonably unified, but the Navy still outmatches their military force. If they hit the refugees now, the Navy would roll right over them in response, and they’d end up with nothing.”

“So you think they’ll wait.” Jacob thought over the analysis. It
seemed
solid enough—but then again, most bad theories seemed clever at first. He needed more than mere opinion if he was going to act. Besides, the vaguely familiar accent in Al-Kesh’s voice was bothering him. There was something about it that stirred a sharp sense of distrust. Still trying to narrow the feeling down, Jacob studied Al-Kesh, who was dry washing his hands and continuing to avoid Jacob’s gaze.

Then he looked over at von Clarence and was startled to find the former High Seat scrutinizing him with exactly the same level of intensity Jacob had directed toward Al-Kesh. There was almost something protective in that stare, and Jacob drew back
slightly as he met those dark eyes. They watched each other for a moment, and then an idea flickered in Jacob’s mind. He smiled, and von Clarence blinked in surprise.

“So, as I understand it, the people with Carmichael are building up their rhetoric about how much of a threat I am. Every bit of time we spend here is only going to inflate what they’re
saying, and any support we receive from the base or the people here will drive them even further along their crazy conspiracy theories. Correct?”

The others nodded, and Jacob’s smile grew. “Then I believe I may have a solution, High Elder.”

Von Clarence was looking a little uncertain now. “I am… overjoyed to hear that, Admiral.”

Jacob waved the distrust in Von Clarence’s words away. “At the beginning of this discussion, you were wondering how you could help me. First of all, the main reason for our stop here is to wait for supplies. We need about three weeks’ worth of extra supplies to complete our mission, and we won’t be able to leave before those materials come in.” Von Clarence shifted in his seat, likely wondering where Jacob was going with the conversation. Jacob shrugged. “If we were able to receive those supplies sooner, we could leave much more quickly. Could the Oathbound give us those supplies in trade for the ships arriving in the next few weeks?”

The question seemed to catch the men off guard, and Nathaniel happened to recover first. “That might be possible, but there are limitations you should be aware of. The Oathbound permit no weapons stockpiles or manufacturers in their enclaves. It is highly unlikely they would be able to supply any ammunition to you.”

“Ammunition is not what we need.” Jacob tapped a finger on the table. “We need things like reactor fuel, spare systems parts, and other materials.”

Von Clarence’s head came up, and his eyes locked onto Jacob. “The sort of supplies a fleet would need for a long journey. Perhaps long enough to cross the Frontier?”

Jacob kept his face carefully impassive.
“Perhaps.”

The former High Seat frowned. “I trust you recognize your plans might have severe repercussions for the people here.”

“If it comes to that, believe me, we will be ready for them.” Jacob leaned forward and gave von Clarence a smile that was more teeth than reassurance. “Regardless, we still need those supplies shipped to our task force, as quickly as possible.”

“Easier said than done.”
Von Clarence looked to Nathaniel. “Do we even have that much material available on Tiredel?”

Nathaniel answered slowly. “I believe we might. It may take some time, however, to make it clear the Oathbound are not assisting you with military equipment.”

“No.” They all turned to look at Al-Kesh, who was smiling broadly. “Reassurance will not help us deal with the threat at San Marcos. Instead, try to pack the supplies as if they were extra ordnance, especially the kind a dreadnaught would use to bombard a planetary surface. Be as conspicuous as possible about the business as well.”

Von Clarence blinked again, and disbelief was starting to grow on his face. “Shareed, if we do that then Carmichael—” He cut off when Nathaniel laid a hand on his shoulder. The Maxwell scion was grinning openly.

“He’ll run off his mouth about how dangerous Admiral Jacob Hull and his fleet are to the Union, and about how much of a threat they are to him personally. Which is precisely what we might want him to do if the Admiral has another target besides the separatists at San Marcos. Am I correct, Admiral?”

Jacob studied Nathaniel for a moment and reached a decision. “You are, Sir.”

Understanding had dawned in von Clarence’s eyes. He started to smile. “And while you are off accomplishing your other goal, Carmichael will whip himself into a misguided frenzy. The best way to stop a loudmouth is to prove him a fool; perhaps his support will collapse if we give him enough rope to hang himself with. Admiral Hull, I believe you might be able to help us here after all.”

“Glad to hear it.” Jacob stood, and the others rose to their feet as well. It would be a gamble, but if it worked, then he’d have a very good chance of killing two birds with one stone. More accurately, he’d massacre a whole flock of birds with one very big rock. Perhaps talking with von Clarence had not been such a bad idea after all.

Chapter Eight

Jacob watched the huge supply ship maneuver into position near his flagship. It was an odd feeling, knowing the captain of the other vessel was from the Oduran League originally, and yet there was no sign of hostility in the oddly-accented voice as the transmission came in. “
Fresh Hope
has commenced docking procedures. Please acknowledge and direct our course.”

He saw Ashford, standing dutifully nearby, mutter something under his breath in response to the strange phrasing, and Corporal Patel chuckled. Jacob could sympathize. Apparently half of the cargo transfers in the Oduran League were conducted with a strange sort of ritualistic air; either that, or Jacob failed to recognize the same ceremony in his own society. It must have been hard for the refugees to adapt themselves to the Union’s differences, but none of them seemed especially strained by the need to do so. Their calm despite their situation was unusual to Jacob, and he half expected them to turn traitor simply out of frustration with their circumstances, but he hadn’t heard a single complaint from any of the Oathbound he’d met.

Footsteps behind Jacob caused him to turn, and he found himself face to face with a prime example. Ship Handler Xavier Tsokashi had been one of the most famous members of Banks’ peace movement that led to their exile. He’d been a stolid advocate for disarmament, as had most of Banks’ followers, and his clothing reflected his dedication. Tsokashi wore a simple tunic and trousers and a dark overcoat with red stitching along the cuffs of the sleeves. A small pin, worked into the shape of a dove, was clipped to the inside of the coat’s collar, a visible sign of the pacifism the Oathbound had sworn to uphold.

There were other signs of what that dedication had cost Tsokashi personally. One sleeve of the coat was empty; the captain had lost an arm during the violent purges the League had carried out near the final days of Banks’ rule, and there were scars on his hard face Jacob guessed had been caused by the same explosion. Nevertheless, his eyes were clear and focused, and when he extended his remaining hand to Jacob, his grip was firm. “Admiral Hull. I came to make sure your supplies were being loaded to your satisfaction.”

Jacob smiled. “They are, Ship Handler.” It was an odd title, but the Oathbound had refused, as much as possible, any trace of military style. Like most niceties, it was something Jacob disliked dancing around, but if the former Odurans were willing to fully load his fleet for their journey, he wasn’t going to insult them. “Your crews work hard. They are remarkably efficient.”

“I am glad to hear that, Admiral.” Tsokashi’s gaze went to the projection, where the freighter had shifted over alongside the flagship. “We had worried we wouldn’t be able to meet your deadline, or the supplies would not be found, but you should be able to depart on schedule.”

Jacob nodded, and a pause followed. The cargo teams started to transfer the materials from the hold of the
Fresh Hope
to the cavernous storage areas onboard the
Eagle
. Most of the supplies were standard—fuel for the reactors, food and water for the crew, spare parts for the various systems in the ship—but one thing they would not receive here would be ammunition. Tiredel’s newly established population did not boast a single arms production facility; the Oathbound had insisted on it, and no Oathbound ship would carry anything even resembling weaponry. Fortunately, the
Eagle
and the other ships of the fleet had plenty of ammunition.

He heard a cough from behind him, and he turned and saw Leon standing there. His friend stood to attention and saluted with precision. “You wanted to see me, Sir?”

“Yes, Captain Nivrosky.” Jacob glanced at Tsokashi.

The ex-Oduran caught Jacob's expression and smiled. “Perhaps I should withdraw. Thank you both for your service.”

As Tsokashi walked away, Jacob looked at Leon. “Thanks for coming, Leon. I have an assignment for you.”

Leon blinked he hadn’t been expecting anything of the sort.
“An assignment, Sir? Who are you going to have as you chief of staff?”

Jacob hesitated. “I’m going to let the computers handle things for a while. I might be able to keep up with the paperwork as long as I focus on it more.” He glanced at the resupply operation and continued. “Captain Weir resigned this morning.”

Surprise crossed Leon’s face at the news. “Weir? I thought he was going to stay in the Navy until they had to bury him. Why did he leave?”

“The official reason is he wants more time to spend dirtside after a lifetime of service.” Jacob smiled faintly; Captain Weir, a lifelong spacer, was not famous for his affection of things planetbound. “Unofficially, Medical has finally caught up with the good captain and decided he is lucky he hasn’t had three kinds of heart attack by now. I decided it would be better to have him in an advisory role rather than risk losing him to a stress-induced cardiac event, and he agreed.”

Leon nodded slowly. “And you want me to take his place.”

“Yes.” Jacob turned to look at Leon. “You’d be aboard the
Galahad
. She’s a
Knight
-class, so she doesn’t have the armor refit yet, but she has plenty of weaponry. Her crew has high efficiency marks as well.”

Those facts didn’t seem to reassure the other officer very much. “I don’t know, Jacob. You need help running things here, and you deserve to have a chief of staff you can rely on.”

Jacob waved the concern away. “Thank you, Captain Nivrosky, but I should be fine. You’re past due for another ship’s command in any case.” When Leon continued to look uncertain, Jacob reached forward and grabbed his shoulder. “Listen, you’ll be just as important in your place there as you would be here. I need a squadron commander I can count on. Where we’re going, I can’t afford to doubt if my newest ship commander is going to trust my orders or not.”

Leon relaxed slightly. “Okay. I understand.” Then he gave Jacob a lopsided grin. “I mean, I understand, Sir.” He saluted.

Jacob returned the salute. “Thank you, Captain. You’ll have about a day to prepare for the transfer, and then we should be heading for the Frontier a few hours after that. Make sure to leave everything in order. We’re going to have a lot of work to do.”

“I bet.” Leon nodded and started to turn away to leave. Then he paused. “Jacob?”

“Yeah?”

“I already watched one of our flagships die while I couldn’t do anything to stop it.” Leon’s voice remained steady, despite the concern and grief that showed easily in his expression. “Don’t make me go through that again.”

Jacob nodded. “I’ll do my best, Captain. You have my promise.”

Leon held his gaze for a moment, and then he turned to leave. Jacob watched him stride away, his posture as formal and professional as ever. He heard Tsokashi return and looked back at the man. “Yes, Ship Handler?”

Tsokashi looked understanding, even compassionate. “It’s never easy to see a friend go, is it? Especially when they are under one’s own command.” The Oathbound man looked in the direction Leon had disappeared, and the corner of his mouth quirked upward in a half-grin. “One the one hand, you know they are worried for you, since they will not be there to stave off disaster on your behalf. On the other, you are worried for them, because the time may come when you will order them into danger…and they may not survive.” He shook his head. “I do not envy you your burden, Admiral Hull.”

Jacob studied the man for a moment, suddenly curious. He took in the precise way Tsokashi stood, noted the way he held his remaining arm just so. His eyebrows went up when he realized something he had not suspected. “You were part of the Oduran military.”

The two junior Marines in Jacob’s bodyguard standing nearby stiffened, and Corporal Delaraza’s fingers twitched on his rifle. Ashford, on the other hand, motioned for them to stand down. Jacob met the Marine’s eyes, and Ashford gave him a silent, reassuring nod. He’d probably known about Tsokashi’s former occupation and had probably insisted on coming along for that reason, but he didn’t seem too worried about the situation. Given Ashford’s usual level of paranoia, Jacob felt a little safer despite his surprise.

Wariness entered Tsokashi’s expression, as if he was aware of the tension in other two Marines. “That was once my calling, but no longer. I hold to the Oath, the same as the rest of the Oathbound.”

For a moment, Jacob remained quiet. He was still trying to reconcile the reality of Tsokashi, battered and scarred, with the threatening image of the Oduran captains he’d always imagined meeting. Then Jacob shook his head. “It must be difficult for you to help us now. We may be facing some of your former comrades in arms.”

“My comrades, as you described them, have rejected the chance for peace, Admiral Hull.” Tsokashi made an expressive gesture with his remaining arm. “Many of them would kill me in an instant, given the chance. You are far more a servant of peace than any of them have ever been.” Then he hesitated. “But you are right, Admiral. It is a hard thing to watch your ships gather, to know they assemble to strike at the heart of what I once held dear. The League cast us out, body and soul, yet to me it was always my home, and my heart sickens at the thought of so much death. I wish it was not necessary.”

“As do I, Ship Handler.” Jacob looked back out at the reloading operation, seeing the crews were almost done loading. “It is my hope this war will be done someday soon. Then perhaps we can work towards something different. Something more…” Words failed him.

“More meaningful, perhaps?”
Tsokashi smiled. “My heart wishes it would be so, but for now, what will be, will be.” Something chirped in the Oduran’s pocket, and he fished out a comm stub. He glanced at it for a moment, and then sighed. “I must return to my crews, Admiral. They require a bit of advice. If you’ll excuse me.”

Jacob nodded, and the Oathbound officer left the same way Leon had gone. Watching him go, Jacob wondered again at how monumentally different the universe seemed lately. He had Odurans resupplying his ship for a strike against the League, an Oduran officer sympathizing with him, and Celostian admirals and representatives plotting his downfall. Amused by the thought, Jacob turned back to the where another ship was arriving. There wasn’t much time left before the
Eagle
would be ready to go.

“The last of your supplies should be ready within the next two days. The Oathbound have given you almost everything you’ll need to get all the way across the Frontier.” Al-shira tapped a few buttons on her personal reader. “They’ve also given us the most recent maps they have of the Frontier. You shouldn’t run into any anomalies on your way through.”

“That’s good to hear.” Jacob looked around his office, searching for an easy way to start the conversation he’d been dreading for the past week. He failed. “Naomi, we need to talk about something.”

“Oh?” Al-shira quirked an eyebrow. She set her personal reader aside and folded her arms. “Good. Is this the point where you try and convince me it would be better if I stayed behind? I’ve been waiting for you to bring it up.”

Jacob stared at her. Then he shook his head and smiled ruefully. “Damn it. You’re not going to make this easy on me, are you?”

“Oh please. Were you going to hide your noble intentions behind some excuse about ensuring the chain of command or something?” Al-shira chuckled. “You’re lucky actually. I have no intention of going with you on this mission.”

He blinked. The absence of screaming was nice, but the conversation was not progressing as he’d imagined it. “You don’t?”

“Absolutely not.” She shrugged. “You don’t have a command assignment open for me, and I doubt you’re going to kick Captain Martino out of his place just to put me in charge of the
Eagle
. Too many people are whispering about us as it is, and I don’t think either of us wants to make things worse. Besides, you’ve already got Isaac and Leon to watch your back, and if you can’t take on a bunch of Odurans on your own by now, my being on the ship with you won’t change that.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence. I think.” Jacob walked over to the desk and leaned against it. “What are you planning then? I doubt you want to sit on a garrison post in Tiredel. First Shore isn’t exactly renowned for its creature comforts.”

“Not exactly what I had in mind—and it had better not have been your plan for me either.” Al-shira wagged a finger at him. “You’ve got most of the logistics side of things settled, and the strategic plan is solid, but you’ve forgotten some of the fallout this will cause. Your enemies aren’t just the ones on the League side of the border.”

Jacob narrowed his eyes. “You think Carmichael will move.”

Al-shira shook her head. “No, but even if he stays put, the other admirals will be…upset. My guess is Siddiqui will react first, since she’s going to think you’re moving on the independents at Ermine. She’ll be the first to challenge you. When you don’t show up at San Marcos, I’m guessing Borgens or one of the others will move next. Either way, you need someone here to counter them while you are gone.”

Jacob nodded, a puzzle piece falling into place. He’d doubted Al-shira would willingly give up the fight in Kryshaen without a truly impressive argument—certainly not just to ensure her own safety. If she saw another threat to face in the Union itself, it made her decision easier to understand. “What are you going to do?”