The Phoenix Project (2 page)

    
Maria rolled her eyes at the reference to
the Interplanetary News Network. “Then my government will sue for libel. It’s
been nice talking to you and I’m glad that you’ve finally noticed what color my
eyes are.”

    
“What?”

    
“Goodbye, General,” Maria said, and
deactivated the link. She pressed a small button on her obsidian desk.

    
“O’Toole?”

    
“Yes, Admiral,” a voice replied
immediately.

    
“Send in Admiral Fredericks. Tell him I
want good news.”

    
“I’ll try to deliver,” Elliot said as he
walked into her office.

    
“Have a seat,” Maria said with a gesture to
one of the two chairs in front of her desk. She had chosen their pale blue
color to accentuate the deep, obsidian glass of her desk. Elliot sat down on
one and pulled a short stack of paper—thin links from his suitcase.

    
“Construction is right on schedule.”

    
“That’s great.”
Her brow furrowed under a
mane of long dark hair.
She leaned over her desk. “Eli,
I just had the strangest
conversation with a Coalition General."

    
“And?”

    
“He’s convinced we damaged a
couple of their sensor arrays.”

    
“Where?”

    
“Somewhere in the backwoods of
space outside of the solar system. He even threatened to go to the networks,”
Maria replied.

    
“What did you say?”

    
“What do you think? We have
nothing to do with it, but I’m sending a ship out there just to be sure. The
truth is that he got me curious enough to find out what caused it,” Maria
replied.

    
“Could they have
malfunctioned?”

    
“The Coalition may be behind
us in technology, but it’s still pretty dependable,” Maria said and stared for
a moment into empty space. “Anyway, you have reports for me.”

    
“Right here,” Elliot said,
placing the electronic papers in front of her.

    
“So give me the details. Are
the ships still in pieces all over the system?”

    
“Not as many. The engines are
still being constructed on Ganymede, but should be completed in eight weeks.
The shield generators on Titan are finished and will be integrated with the
hulls on Mars in two weeks,” Elliot reported.

    
“And the hulls? How far along
are they?”

    
“The shipyard’s master tells
me that they’re about ninety percent complete with about sixty percent of their
equipment installed,” Elliot replied.

    
“What about the weapon systems
on Luna?”

    
“They’ll be finished tomorrow.
We’re getting ready to ship the first hundred in a few hours,” Elliot replied.

    
“Good. They’re not much good
to us as warships if they don’t have any weapons.”

    
“I guess not, Ma’am.”

    
“I’ll just sign off on these
and we’ll have you on your way,” Maria said.

    
She grabbed the pile of links
that he had deposited on her desk. True to her word, Maria took the next half
hour asking questions about the various links in her hands and once she was
satisfied with the answers, signed off on them.

    
Elliot took the links off her
desk and stuffed them back into his suitcase. He thanked her and left for the
return shuttle to Saturn in order to get the shield generators ready for
shipping. It was then that Elliot remembered that he still had business to take
care of. It had been too long since he had stopped in on Joshua and Madison.
The thought of seeing them again brought the usual coiling in the pit of his
stomach.

    
They were his wife’s friends
from ten years ago and, yes, they were his as well, but the death of Lillian
had soured the relationship. They were two friendly couples, and then one of
the couples became a widower. Elliot had gained command of the
Suffolk
after the
Norfolk
’s
loss and was glad to have both Madison and Joshua serving aboard the same
ship at first. To his surprise, there was little to talk about once the
mourning period was over and sitting in silence around a table in the officers’
mess showed that the dynamic of the group had been irrevocably damaged. Elliot had
asked for reassignment to groundside duties within a month.

    
He paused outside the entrance
to Maria's office, unsure about visiting them. An expression of indignant
indecision appeared on his face. No, it would have to be this time. The last
time was well over a year ago. Madison
would be furious with him.

    
Elliot found himself walking
on autopilot. He was already halfway to the elevator that would take him back
to the outbound shuttle for Saturn. With an abrupt about face he turned and
stalked toward the elevator that would take him to the Alliance's Third Battle Group.

    
Once again he found himself
embarking on a sleek, grey shuttle bound for somewhere other than home. Sitting
down in the mildly claustrophobic passenger shuttle, Elliot thought of excuses
to offer the couple after his long absence.

    
"You can always find the
time when you want to,” Madison
would probably say.

    
He didn’t really have an
excuse other than his reluctance to take part in a long expired friendship with
people that reminded him of his deceased wife.

    
Elliot looked up from musing
to discover that he had already exhausted the short trip to the Allied Warship
Endeavour
.

    
He rose from his seat with
care to avoid the low ceiling and made his way to the exit for Joshua's ship. The
half a mile long
Victory C
lass Cruiser had wide, thick wings with a
central tapering neck. The warship looked like a massive grey metal eagle ready
to pounce.

    
Elliot disembarked and worked
his way through corridors and lifts until he was at the threshold of the
bridge. He gathered a deep breath and walked through the parting doors to the
command center.

    
The large rectangular bridge
had a series of consoles with embedded displays. A large weapons station was
next to him. The station existed as a claustrophobic gathering of displays and
monitors that faced the large screen on the other side of the bridge. The
weapons officer looked up from his work.

    
"Admiral on Deck!"

    
Some thirty officers,
including his friends, rose to attention. Joshua was at his customary position
in the command chair, located in front of the weapons station. Madison stood to his right
as first officer. Three silver bars adorned each side of her collar.

    
“At ease,” Elliot said. The
officers and enlisted men immediately went back to their work.

    
"Sir?” Joshua asked.

    
"Josh, it's okay. This
isn't an official visit. You can call me Eli."

    
"Haven’t seen you in a
while, Eli,” Joshua said in his Southern drawl.

    
"I’ve been a little busy
with the Horizon Project. I’m sorry I didn't drop by sooner."

    
“You haven’t dropped by in
almost a year,” Joshua mumbled.

    
“Josh,” Madison said from his right. She stared
directly into his blue eyes.

    
“Yes?”

    
“Shut up,” she said, tousling
his blond hair. “He’s here now.”

    
"It is good to see both
of you again.”

    
“You felt obligated to come
and meet some old friends,” Madison
said. “Come here.”

    
She embraced him in a warm hug
and then pulled back.

    
"We’re almost done our
shifts. Would the handsome Admiral care to see our new officers’ mess? It was
renovated six months ago and I think you’ll like it.”

    
Elliot inwardly balked at a
half—hearted conversation over drinks but accepted in spite of his misgivings.
Joshua stood up from his seat and looked to an officer at a nearby station.

    
“When does Lieutenant—Commander
Scott arrive for his shift?”

    
“In five minutes, Sir.”

    
“Can you handle the bridge for
five minutes Sub—Lieutenant?” Joshua demanded of the frightened man.

    
“I,” he hesitated before
remembering his training. “Yes, Sir.”

    
Joshua gave him a quick nod
and led the party off the bridge. The couple led him through several arched
hallways painted in matching colours of cream and light grey until they found
themselves in a lift, which took them from the centrally located command deck
to the very top of the ship.

    
Elliot was impressed by the sight
that awaited him. The newly renovated officers’ mess was spacious and comfortable.
The large room was about two hundred feet long and half that wide. The warm
burgundy walls were a good twenty feet high, affording the far wall's tall
windows a panoramic view of the full length of
Endeavour’s
hull. Distant
stars glittered beyond the ship’s dorsal armour.

    
The trio found a plush, three—sided
booth on a middle rise, facing the spectacular view and sat down. A head waiter
saw the small group of high ranking officers and immediately went over to take
their orders.

    
“What’s good?” Elliot asked
his hosts.

    
“The house draft is pretty
good,” Joshua replied.

    
“They have a pretty good
chardonnay, too,” Madison
said.

    
“House draft,” Elliot said to
the attendant. Joshua ordered the same and Madison ordered a dry, white wine. The order
arrived shortly thereafter.

    
"So Eli, what have you
been doing for the last year?” Joshua asked before lifting a tall glass of
golden ale to his lips.

    
"Finishing what I signed
on to."

    
“I thought you’d have moved on
to something else by now, like command of a battle group,” Madison said.

    
“No, not for me. I’m thinking
of moving to HQ once this is over.”

    
“You mean to a desk job?”
Joshua inquired.

    
“Is there something wrong with
a desk job?”

    
“There isn’t if you’re an old
man,” Joshua replied.

    
Elliot looked at him with a
stern face before breaking into a heartfelt laugh for the first time in what
felt like years.

    
“You’re a smartass,” Elliot
said.

    
“That’s what Madi tells me.”

    
“It’s true. I really do,” Madison said and drank
from her glass.

    
“I’d hate to admit it, but I
really missed you two.”

    
“Likewise,” Madison said and raised a glass for a toast.
All three of them clinked their beverages and took a sip of their beverages before
returning them to the table. “So when does my husband get a battleship to
command? Hell, when do I finally get a command?”

    
“In three months they’ll be
ready for trial runs. The rest of the fleet will be phased out over the next
twenty years after that,” Elliot replied.

    
“I’d hate to say goodbye to
this ship,” Joshua said and looked around the large bar.

    
“Don’t worry Josh,” Elliot
said. “She was last off the line and will be the last to exit the stage.
Besides by then you’ll be what, fifty—five, and probably an Admiral?”

    
“Not if I can help it.”

    
“Eli,” Madison began before Elliot heard a beep from
the small, dark piece of technology that clung to his earlobe.

    
“Sorry,” Elliot interrupted
and activated the earpiece. He listened for a moment, nodded, and then acknowledged
the order. “I’ve got to go.”

    
“You just got here. You
haven’t even finished your drink!”

    
“I’ll see if I can get back,”
Elliot replied, and left the officer’s lounge.