Federation Reborn 2: Pirate Rage (25 page)

They picked up April. She caught his hand, smiling to him as he squeezed it. She didn't say a word, just tossed her red hair and tugged him onward. Dutifully he followed. She smiled back at him. “I've got a reservation.”

“We could order in,” he said softly. She snorted.

“Last time I got pizza sauce all over my good silk sheets. Pass,” she growled playfully. “Not to mention certain parts of me I won't mention,” she teased.

“Which were fun to wash off,” he teased right back with a playful smile.

“Behave,” she said in a saucy tone of voice that indicated everything but that simple word. “You're going to need your energy, big boy.”

He snorted but allowed her to lead him on. One had to keep up appearances after all. And he couldn't or wouldn't admit that he only thought of her as a sexual relief valve now.

Chapter 13

Admiral Irons returned to the administration complex the following morning. When he took a sip of his coffee, he paused and stared at it. “What's this?” he demanded, turning to Mrs. Garrett, aka Cookie.

“Even you would find it obvious, Admiral. Hot chocolate.”

“I drink coffee in the morning,” he said looking at the sticky concoction.”

“A change will do you good,” she said with her nose in the air.

He looked at the mug then to her, then back again. “I'm being punished, aren't I?” he asked in an amused tone of voice.

“Why ever would I do that?” she asked mildly. Too mildly he thought, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“I am. And the only reason I can think of it is because I stayed out past bedtime,” he said, turning slowly to eye her.

“And missed breakfast,” she added. “Not that I'm punishing you or anything. I just thought your blood sugar is a tad low. You know, with all the late night activities and missing breakfast,” she said.

“Uh, huh,” he said in disbelief. “I'll be good; I promise. Get me an energy bar or something,” he said, wrinkling his nose.

“Coming up.”

“And …”

“When you finish the drink in front of you,” she said in a firm, no nonsense sort of voice. “You know how I hate wasting food,” she said.

“I'm going to pay for this for a while, aren't I?” he asked dryly, eying her as she came in with a tray. There was a selection of fruit on it as well as an energy bar neatly cut up into finger food squares.

“Perhaps it will teach you to clue certain people in on your plans?” she asked, setting the tray down and then taking the plate with the food off of it and placing it in front of you. “You have a few minutes to eat as you read the news. I suggest you do so, knowing you you'll forget lunch or something,” she said tartly.

“Heaven forbid that,” he murmured as she flipped a linen napkin embroidered with the crest of the Federation and then set it down in his lap. “I'll behave,” he said in a meek tone of voice.

“That will be a first then,” she said mock sweetly as she left for her pantry.

“You know, you could give lessons for the ship stewards,” he called after her. She paused and leaned her head out of the entry way. “Why, Admiral, hadn't you heard? I'm already doing it. Correspondence courses of course,” she said before going back to her own duties.

“Of course you are,” he muttered, picking at his plate.

“I heard that,” she called out. He winced before he chuckled softly and picked up the first shish kebab of fruit she'd selected. She'd intermingled several flavors for sweet and tart punches. He was glad he had an iron constitution; otherwise, he would have had the runs in the following day. Was that another part of her intended punishment? If so she'd failed miserably he thought, eating the fruit. Most likely it had all come from one cornucopia tree.

One of the first pieces of news in his inbox was good; he briefly wondered if it was due to luck of the draw or careful planning by someone to frame him in the right mood … or what he wasn't sure. But it was good, the corvette
Echo
, Vestri's old command, had been dispatched to New Andres to serve as a picket there. She had arrived safely. She had also passed on word that the last convoy had also arrived safely. “Well! That's a relief!”

The news from intel was a bit more mixed however. They were still not completely ruling out a foreign invader. That had his scan people and ships on alert. That was to be expected; however, he discounted the sled theory. It wasn't that they couldn't do it; it was that it was too soon. Horath couldn't get a ship like that out here so soon. Besides, the nearest star systems were all under the navy's control. They would have seen something. Granted they could have jumped from the void, but he doubted it.

Intel and security needed a major shaking up. Protector and Sprite were working on it together, but he needed people to get in there and help. More people,
experienced
people. But experienced people were in rather short supply. Very short, he thought darkly.

The
Bismark
hijacking was a wakeup call. Of that he was certain.

The last bit of news was hardly surprising, the latest convoy from Protodon had arrived on schedule. They had more recruits of course, but no return cargo so they'd run faster than their trip out. That was also to be expected.

For some reason Sprite had gone over and highlighted the passenger manifest of one ship in particular. He frowned as he read it. “AR-441. What am I looking for again? Or should I say whom?”

Sprite flagged a name for him to spot out of the clutter. It fairly leapt off the screen at him.

His expression set along cold lines. “Get him in here. Now,” he ordered, dropping the tablet onto the blotter in front of him. He might be the answer he was looking for, he thought. Or more trouble. It remained to be seen which.

“The convoy is still making its way across the system, Admiral. ETA … forty-two hours, Admiral,” Sprite reported. She placed an image of the star system up and the convoy's location.

“I want him in the moment they are within range … no, scratch that,” he said with a grimace. It wasn't wise to draw too much attention he reminded himself. “Make it when they dock, damn it, I don't want to draw too much attention I guess,” he said, exhaling slowly.

“It might be wise to wait a little longer. We've waited this long after all,” Sprite reminded him. “Let him stew. He's had us stewing this long after all.”

“Agreed. I want him on my schedule though. Clear the time for a personal debrief. It's time we cleared the air.”

“Yes, sir.”

---<>))))

Two days later a certain missing commander was waiting in the ante room with his yeoman when the admiral arrived at his office. He immediately waved the familiar man in as he shot to his feet and began to salute. Lieutenant Lake hadn't made it up from the planet; however, Lieutenant Fletcher was on line with the other A.I. The admiral went around behind his desk and then turned as the commander stopped and stood at attention. When he cleared his throat, the commander immediately saluted.

“Commander Montgomery, you are a tad
late
,” the admiral said after the intelligence officer saluted him and he had returned the salute.

The admiral had realized Monty's intent, but he freely admitted he'd been as frustrated as some others when the man had just upped and disappeared on them. The idea that someone that senior would go rogue had made more than one person paranoid and sweaty.

Those that he'd trained or who had worked under him swore he wasn't like that. They'd been right, but he was fairly certain they'd harbored certain doubts of their own. He was pretty sure they were now wiping their brows and exhaling in relief.

“So, Commander, you took a roundabout route to get here. A very long one,” the admiral said, eying the commander with scant favor. “Forgetting that the rest of the sector and galaxy at large exist? Getting wrapped up in the moment?”

They'd already deduced that he'd stopped for one, sometimes two months at each star system. He'd been dropped off and then picked up by another passing convoy, including in the Briev star system. How the man had gotten down to the planet, he knew his people were still looking into. Not many in the convoy he'd been on were volunteering much. Most likely because they were afraid they would be court martialed.

When the commander had gone missing, Lieutenant Lake sent word to find out why. They'd picked up word he'd been dropped at Briev only after he'd been picked up. Apparently the commander of convoy AP-947 had filed a report to cover his own ass. They had run across a ship headed to Kathy's World, however, and the commander had changed ships.

Orders for him to report to Antigua immediately had been sent to Kathy's World when they'd received word through the ansible network. He'd dutifully followed those orders and gone on to Protodon before coming in on convoy to Antigua. “You certainly take the long road,” the admiral said, shaking his head. “Better late than never I suppose. You certainly took your travel orders and pushed them to the breaking point, Commander.”

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir, but I wanted to get a personal feel for each star system,” Monty replied. “I take full responsibility for my actions and am prepared to face the consequences,” he said, standing straight and looking the required eight centimeters above the admiral's head. “But, in my defense, sir, since I didn't have a posting anymore, I thought it was wise to do so while I had the time. I thought I might not get another chance.”

“Using up your vacation time along the way to get a little field time in and see things for yourself, sir?” Lieutenant Fletcher asked as the holo emitters on the admiral's desk came online. Sprite took one side, Lieutenant Fletcher the other. Protector stood between them. The human commander remained silent to the dig. “It would have been nice to know your intent, sir, and your itinerary. The
least
we could do is give you support.”

“And spend a little less time worrying about you getting killed or falling into enemy hands,” Protector stated, hands on his shield he held propped up in front of himself.

“It is better to ask for forgiveness than permission, Lieutenant,” Admiral Irons said dryly, flicking his fingers, “which was the commander's whole reason for not telling us his travel plans in the first place.” He eyed Monty. “Oh, give up the parade ground shit for the moment, Monty. Tell me what you've learned,” he said, pointing to his guest chair.

Monty blinked then slowly sat like an automaton. “Yes, sir. It was … instructive.”

“I gathered that,” the admiral said dryly as Sprite raised an eyebrow. “Briev though? Why? That was a hell of a risk,” he observed.

“I wanted to gain a feel for the political situation on the ground while also sowing some contacts and supporters, sir. Possibly lay the groundwork for a ground …,” he cleared his throat, immediately embarrassed.

“Ground work for a ground …,” Fletcher promoted when he didn't elaborate.

“He's talking about an insurrection. Possibly even a coup,” the admiral said, eying the commander. “Technically intel people aren't
supposed
to do that. Meddling in the affairs of a planetary government is considered against the UCMJ. But even in my time they tended to dabble when the situation warranted it.”

“I see, sir,” the A.I. replied. He as well as Protector looked to Sprite. She seemed to shrug and smile before returning her attention to the commander.

“Continue, Commander. This isn't your formal debrief, and you'd better have reports of your actions on file.”

“In case of a court martial, sir?” the commander asked cautiously.

“Why? You feeling particularly guilty, Commander?” Sprite asked. The commander didn't answer. “You were given a shitty reception from Admiral Subert.”

“He knew I had it coming, ma’am. I'm not …”

The admiral held up a hand. “If you are about to say you aren't cut out for intel work, I'll remind you of what you just did,” he said. “And, you are the best we've got available.”

“Sir, Admiral Subert should be running the shop.”

“Admiral Subert has too much on his plate already,” the admiral replied dryly. “Running a star system sucks up a lot of his time. He's lucky he has a deputy like Horatio to handle the yard for him. Yes, he has a background in your shop but never in the field. You have. Answer the question, Commander.”

“Yes, sir. I'll try.”

“We need every detail, so plan to go over everything all over again. Probably more than once in a full debrief with Lieutenant Lake or someone she designates. Consider it your chance to see the other side of how a debrief works I suppose,” the admiral said, eying the commander. “And I don't have to tell you why we need every niggling detail. Right down to timing, clothing, people … all of it. All recordings too.”

“Yes, sir. In case I missed a detail, however minor,” the commander replied with a nod.

“And in case something ever happened to you. I don't want it all trapped in your head if you suffered a mischief as a former spook used to say to me. Something as simple as a genuine accident could ruin someone's planned op. Especially if you don't keep people informed,” the admiral said, eying him once more.

“Yes, sir. Again, sorry, sir.”

“As far as the lone ranger crap, you are too damn senior to be pulling it. I should court martial and demote you for that stunt. Series of stunts I should say. But I won't. The ancient axiom of if it works and it's not stupid blends well with what goes well ends well in this case. Just don't do it again,” the admiral scolded.

“I'll try very hard not to.”

“Yes do that. Try very, very hard,” Sprite said dryly.

“Enough,” the admiral said. “Very well then, we'll set aside any other recriminations for the moment. You can deal with Nara's and Matilda's on your own time I suppose.” He was surprised to see the commander flush and gulp. The admiral snorted mentally. Both women were on the short list for Captain JG, and the commander probably knew it. “As far as running the shop in Antigua and Admiral Subert's allegations, yes, you made mistakes. Yes, you got too cute by trying to look inept.” He saw the commander's eyes widen briefly. “Yes, I figured it out. Don't bother to try to figure out how; you're going to be busy with other things. But the whole, bumbling incompetent didn't play well and blew up in your face with Phil obviously. Besides, we can't have it anyway. We are a professional unit; we need to
act
that way.”