Badger (28 page)

Jacob grunted in response. He had no doubt the politicians were finding all sorts of ways to justify their lack of support, from the uncertainty about the new ship designs to the concerns about an imminent invasion, but he had a good idea what they were actually worried about. Al-shira had warned him he wouldn’t earn any friends by wrecking the trial, and sure enough his enemies were already starting to make things hard for him.

Trying to shake off the discouragement, he turned his screen back to a description of the damaged his ships had endured.
Wolfhound
still had her full complement of railgun mounts, but the other three destroyers in the Reefhome docks had not fared as well.
Feist
had been crippled in a battle near Yewen, with both of the heavy gun decks on her sides gutted by enemy shells.
Setter
had fared little better, with the upper gun deck in ruin and shrapnel damage all throughout the other heavy guns.
Beagle
had not been damaged quite as badly, but her electronic warfare suite had been brutally savaged, leaving a gaping hole in her southern arm above the long-range guns. If new railgun mounts couldn’t be found, Jacob’s ships would be heavily armored only at the cost of the firepower they would need in battle.

Jacob sighed. “All right, so what other bad news do we have?”

Turley grunted. “Plenty. We’ve got major structural damage on
Wolfhound
,
Feist
and
Beagle
. There’re holes in
Wolfhound
,
Setter
, and
Beagle
that will be hard to patch without leaving weak spots.
Wolfhound
,
Setter
and
Feist
have all taken some form of Capistan damage—though
Wolfhound
is missing the whole damn thing, of course.” He shook his head. “If we tried to pull them apart and cobble them back together, we maybe—
maybe
—might get one functional ship, but as it is, I’m pretty doubtful.”

“That’s not to mention the other little problem we have, sir.” Jacob turned his attention back to Miguel, who gave him a grim look. “You still haven’t figured out a way to adapt the new pattern of armor without ripping the entire riftjump mechanism apart. Unless you’re planning on sailing your little destroyers around Reefhome and nowhere else, that’s got to be a priority, Captain.”

Jacob set his reader down on the table and sighed. “That would be a pretty long list of problems, wouldn’t it?” He sighed as the other three nodded, their expressions ranging from grim to stubbornly optimistic. The guilt from the
Terrier
began to reach for him, and he shook his head forcefully. “It’s not any worse than what we were facing when Dianton was on his way here. We have to make it work.” Jacob turned to Yorkshire. “Have you made any headway in developing new ways of installing the armor?”

Yorkshire brightened. “Yes! We’ve actually managed to develop a specific type of internal armor. It’s not quite as thick as the exterior cerrafiber plating, but the truth is we don’t need it to be as thick. Not when the outer armor will have slowed the projectile and fragments down to a fraction of their velocity.” Yorkshire pulled up a display on his own reader and twisted it around in his hands to show the others. “Look, we’ve managed to bring the number of layers down to two thin sheets. That prevents some of the heat buildup, and the addition of specifically designed heat shunts instead of jury rigged ones can help with the heat transfer.”

He shut down the screen and leaned back, his face unhappy. “Unfortunately, the most we can reduce it to is about twice the normal heat generated by the chambers we’ve armored. We still need a more substantial cooling mechanism than what we’ve got, or at least the same kind of heat sink arrangement we worked out with
Wolfhound
.”

Wheels started to turn in Jacob’s mind. He furrowed his brow in thought. “So…wait. You don’t necessarily need to eliminate the riftjump generators entirely. If they were smaller it would work?”

Yorkshire nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on Jacob. “Yes, sir. Perhaps. But to be honest, there would be very few designs that would allow the destroyer to have a functioning Capistan and jump generator. If we cut the size of the Capistan too far, it will take far longer to charge for each jump, and the size of the generator relates to the size of the bubble it jumps. Neither can sacrifice much before we would have to cut the size of the ship down too.”

Turley broke in. “Which would be a little disappointing, Jacob. The fleet’s going to want armored destroyers, not frigates or corvettes, and they’re going to want them with the ability to riftjump fast, not ten times slower than normal.”

Jacob nodded. “True, but it’s progress. And there may be something I can do about it after all.” He made a note in his reader and turned to Turley. “So where are we in terms of the personnel support the Navy has been offering? Do we know if there will be crews ready for the ships once they are repaired, or are we going to have to scavenge them at the last minute?”

Turley grunted. “Well, the Navy’s already got a batch of officers working on simulations of the new ships, but their models aren’t going to be very accurate until we have the ships working. The command staff at the very least will probably be selected at the last minute, since experience at screwing things up in the higher ranks is easier to emulate in a different ship.” He gave Jacob a too-smooth grin. “Other than that, they’re providing the funds they said they would, and are actually cooperating rather well with everything. It’s been a surprise so far, let me tell you.”

“Glad to hear it, Turley.” Jacob turned his attention back to Miguel. “How is security going? Will we need to hide what we’re doing at the docks, or will you be able to discourage any locals who get too curious?”

Miguel shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine, sir. I’ve got my defense forces patrolling every planned jump point, but you know as well as I do how easy it can be to hide a ship in this place. The broad details of your construction project will probably leak out—as they would anywhere, really—but the real problems you’re going to have are with the personnel themselves.”

Yorkshire made a noise of protest and half came out of his seat. “Commander Salazar! You of all people should know how dedicated the citizens of Reefhome are to the Union, especially my workers. Every single one of us is proud to be involved with this project, and not one of us would risk it in any way.”

Miguel studied the irate engineer with a jaded eye. “I know you’re all pretty loyal to the Union, Yorkshire, but in some ways that’s part of the problem.  If we let ourselves get too wrapped up in a sense of security, the Telosians or the Odurans may get the opportunity to slip an agent into the mix. After all, they’ve gotten to these ships once before, and I don’t think the Celostian Naval Yards in New Vermont were any less secure than here.”

Jacob nodded. “Miguel’s right. I didn’t see what Morris had planned on the
Wolfhound
until it happened, and the enemy could easily try to pull off the same thing here.” He forced himself to chuckle. “This time I’d like to start out on a ship that
doesn’t
have bombs on it, if you don’t mind.”

A half-hearted echo of his chuckle ran through the group. When it subsided, Miguel settled back into his seat and tapped his thumb against his cheek. “In some ways, we actually have the opposite problem here. Our biggest problems might not be an enemy agent hired by the Odurans or even the Telosians. Instead we may have to watch for the workers who are too eager to work, or too excited to start instead.” Yorkshire gave the commander an incredulous look, and Miguel shook his head. “Picture it, Yorkshire. You’re a new worker on Reefhome, and you’ve got the chance to work on the ship that won your freedom. You’re proud, you’re nervous, and you’re bursting to talk. The moment you get off shift, you’re suddenly the Navy’s worst security threat.”

Turley let out a bark of laughter. “I can just see the damn fools now. Some pretty girl with an odd interest in destroyers starts chatting them up, and they’ve given our entire design plan away in one hell of an excited babble.” He fell silent for a moment, and his mirth faded. “How the hell are we supposed to stop that from happening? Glue their lips shut the moment they leave the docks?”

Jacob grinned at the idea of a suddenly mute construction crew wandering from restaurant to restaurant, desperate for food. “No, Turley, I think we could probably arrange a few other ways to keep things under wraps. We could limit access to the overall design plans and encourage the workers to sleep on the docks. The work schedule we’ll put them on will tire them out enough to make the arrangement seem attractive, but I think we could squeeze in a few more incentives for the more enthusiastic workers.”

Miguel cracked a smile. “Like maybe the chance to rub shoulders with the great Captain Hull in their downtime?”

A guffaw escaped Turley, and even Yorkshire grinned openly. Jacob repressed a groan and nodded. “I’ll probably want to be close enough to the project that I’ll be there anyway. Why not use what we have? Go ahead and tell them I’ll be there.”

“Damn, the responsibilities of command are heavy, right Jacob?” Turley kept chuckling, inspiring all sorts of plots for revenge in Jacob’s mind that even Isaac would have been proud of. Before he could respond, however, Yorkshire spoke up again.

“There is another problem we should anticipate, Captain.”

When Jacob turned back to him in surprise, Yorkshire shook his head. “Once word gets out you’re here, we may have to plan on how to discourage reporters from printing the details of our work here. Especially once they know you’re in charge of it.”

Jacob frowned. “You really think I’ll draw that many newscasters here, Mr. Yorkshire? I mean, I expected them at Celostia, but out here they are nearly at the edge of the Union. The High Seat thought this far of a distance would discourage them at the very least.”

The other three men stared at him. Miguel was the one who responded, shaking his head. “You…haven’t been watching the news lately, have you?”

“I’ve had a lot on my plate, Commander.” Miguel snorted and shared a look with Turley, who was half incredulous disbelief. Jacob ignored both of them and turned to Yorkshire. “Mr. Yorkshire, do you believe they’ll come, even considering the distances involved?”

Yorkshire’s expression was firm. “Yes, sir. They’ll come, at least a few of them. Even if they don’t, you’ll have to worry about the local outlets here in Reefhome.” The engineer dry washed his hands. “You’re something of a celebrity here after all, and the Station’s going to want to know what you’re doing with its precious
Wolfhound
.”

The words had the edge of truth in them, and Jacob pondered over the problem for a long moment. He came to no real solutions, and he sighed in frustration. “Okay, we’ll keep those problems in mind alongside the weapons for now. Hopefully we’ll be able to figure something out before the chaos actually starts.” Jacob paused, dreading the next question. “Besides those issues, is there anything else we should know about that would prevent the project from going forward?”

“Yes, sir. There is one last thing.”

Jacob froze. He turned to Turley, wondering what the former engineering chief was about to say that could make the situation more painful to deal with. The man gave no clue, sitting calmly in his seat.

“Yes, Lieutenant Turley, what is it?”

“You’re ugly.” Turley said it with such seriousness that it failed to register with Jacob for a few seconds. He blinked, trying to figure it out as Turley continued. The lieutenant was obviously fighting a smile. “Damn ugly, sir. I’m surprised mirrors don’t break and cameras don’t burst. It’s terrible.”

Then Yorkshire burst out laughing, followed closely by Miguel. Turley himself cracked a smile, his chuckles returning as the other two laughed. Jacob shook his head, feeling an irresistible urge to smile himself. He waited until the others had settled, and he raised an eyebrow.

“Well, Lieutenant, I think we can work on it at a later date. Maybe you can share some of your beauty tips with me when you have the time.” Yorkshire went off into gales of laughter again, and Turley’s guffaws joined him. Miguel was having trouble breathing at this point. Jacob shook his head, letting out a small chuckle, and then he sat back with a sigh. “Now aside from the ugly thing, we’ve got a lot of work to do. So let’s get to it, and maybe this ugly duckling squadron can be a swan by the time the Odurans come back to town. Dismissed.”

Chapter Fourteen

As Jacob walked to his cabin later on that evening, he wondered what he could do to alleviate the problems his new project faced. Without guns, his ships would end up toothless punching bags—the opposite of the warships he wanted to create. Without secrecy, he would end up losing the advantage of surprise the new ships would give the fleet—and perhaps worse, could encourage the Odurans to embark on similar projects. There had to be a way to make things come together in the end. He hadn’t come this far to give up now.

He smiled as he realized that the same Hull determination that had convinced Catherine he needed to leave the military was now driving him. The memory of their fight reminded him of at least one solution he had thought of. All it took was a quick message to Admiral Nivrosky, accompanied by another message to Michael Demarcos, dependent on the admiral’s approval. While he might not like the idea of the man marrying his sister, Jacob knew he could use any advance he could get right now. If his sister’s boyfriend could design a better—and more importantly smaller—riftjump system, then he needed it, regardless of his personal feelings.

If Nivrosky agreed, Michael could be working alongside Yorkshire and the others in less than two weeks, which would give Jacob just enough time to think of a way to avoid the urge to wring the man’s neck each time he saw him with his arm around Catherine…. Jacob grunted sourly. Two weeks was a short time. He’d need to think hard.