Badger (37 page)

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Authors: Kindal Debenham

BOOK: Badger
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Kenning stood up, his eyes wide with rage. “How
dare
you—”

Al-shira came to her feet as well, eyes flashing with rage. “I
dare
because I understand what it means to be an officer, Commander Kenning. I dare because when the High Admiral of the Navy orders us not to advocate a position on something, for the good of the Union, I know it is my duty to follow it. I dare because I know when a fellow officer practically pleads for support to face an enemy, it is not a suggestion or a good idea, it is my honor-bound duty to respond. And I dare because if you cannot bring yourself to obey the orders you have sworn to follow, you should at least restrain yourself from insulting and attacking an officer who does. Have I made myself clear enough, Commander Kenning?”

The two officers glared at each other across the table. Jacob worried, if only for a moment, that he would have a firefight on his hands. Then slowly, face pale, Kenning nodded. His eyes were cold and lethal. “Yes, Commander Al-shira. You are quite clear.” Kenning’s eyes flicked to Jacob, and his lips twisted slightly. “My apologies, Captain Hull.”

Jacob inclined his head, and both officers took their seats. He glanced at Al-shira, whose face was flushed from her defense of her commanding officer. She straightened up and met his eyes, her indignation fading. A smile forced its way onto Jacob’s lips and he turned his attention to the rest of the officers. “Now, I trust everyone has had their objections to our deployment answered?” A tense silence followed, and Jacob nodded. “Good. We will deploy as soon as the crews are onboard and ready for departure. The courses have been transmitted to each ship, and I am sure you will be able to conduct various drills and exercises for training before we reach Tiredel. You are all dismissed.”

As the other officers left, Kenning directed a hateful glare at both him and Al-shira. Leon departed with a friendly nod, and the other officers who had attended the meeting also filed past without much of a response. Commander Flint, however, proved the exception. As Jacob and Al-shira paused near the entrance, the former commander of the
Terrier
stepped close. He met Jacob’s eyes with some difficulty, but he did so with a determined expression.

“Sir, if I could have a word.” The flat tone was still present, but Flint did not seem angry or frustrated as he once had been. Jacob nodded, reflecting that there was little chance the man could manage to infuriate him more than Kenning already had. They stepped away from where Al-shira was standing, and the commander spoke.

“Sir, I would like to apologize if my statements encouraged the disrespect Commander Kenning expressed for you. That was not the result I had intended.” The words came out rushed, still in his flat monotone, and Flint’s eyes remained filled with curious determination. In response, Jacob shook his head.

“Do not worry, Commander. I’m used to a small amount of adversity from my subordinates, even if Commander Kenning stepped over the line with his objections.” Something flickered in Flint’s expression, and Jacob felt a flush of embarrassment. “Not that I ever felt that way when you served under me, of course. Perhaps we didn’t always agree, but you always had the good of the ship and our duty as part of the Navy in mind.”

Flint inclined his head slightly. “I…did so far as I understood them, sir. Unfortunately, I subscribed to some fairly ridiculous attitudes when I served under you before.” The admission stunned Jacob, and he stared as Flint shrugged and continued. “Now, having seen the lengths some would go to in order to pursue those same attitudes, I have decided there is more to your manner of command than first met the eye. I wish to apologize, sir, not only for my unintended aid to Commander Kenning earlier, but also for the…friction…between us earlier. It should not have happened, and you deserved better from me—especially once you helped pull me off of
Terrier
before she died.” Flint’s uncharacteristic run of words ended, and he drew back. “That was all, sir. Thank you for your patience.”

Jacob started forward when Flint turned to leave. “Wait, Commander.”

Flint paused, his expression painfully uncertain, and Jacob hesitated over how to proceed.

“I appreciate your honesty, Commander. It has always been important I know I can trust you, and you’ve proved I can.” He paused, and his next words caught in his throat. “Our relationship before might have been strained, but you need to know something. The reason I placed you as commander of the
Setter
instead of
Wolfhound
has nothing to do with your competence or even with the bad feelings between us. It had more to do with your own progression as an officer. You couldn’t go any further as a flag officer.”

A puzzled look stole across Flint’s face. “Sir?”

Frustration filled Jacob, and he shook his head. “I’m sorry, I’m probably not explaining this right. You spent most of your time with me on the bridge and in the commander’s seat.” A flash of familiar resentment crossed Flint’s face, followed by chagrin. Jacob half smiled. “Our squadron was never all that big to begin with, and I ended up commanding the ship far more than I liked. Meanwhile, you were stuck on the sidelines when you knew—when
both
of us knew—you were ready to command.”

“That’s why you’re on
Setter
. You needed your own ship, and I can trust you to reign in Kenning if I need you to.” Jacob shrugged. “Besides, I think you’ll do better for your own command than you ever would for mine, anyway.”

The edge of Flint’s mouth quirked as if the man was fighting the urge to smile. “I…see, sir. Perhaps you are right.”

“I hope so, Flint. You’ll get the chance to prove it when we get to Tiredel.” Jacob looked down, and then met the other commander’s eyes again. “And Commander…I’m sorry about
Terrier
.”

There was a sudden pause, and Flint looked away. His mouth worked for a moment, and he blinked a few times. Then he looked back and nodded. “Understood, sir. And I miss her too.” Flint extended his hand, and Jacob shook it. “We’ll do her proud, sir, and her crew will not have died in vain. I promise you.”

“I could expect nothing less, Commander Flint. Good luck in your new command, and good hunting.” Flint spun on his heel and made for the door, his stride quick and unburdened for the first time since Jacob had met the man. He stared after the retreating commander for a long moment, and then turned back to the seat he had left. Jacob came to a halt as the motion brought him face to face with Commander Naomi Al-shira.

He tried not to jump in surprise, and he was sure he more than half-succeeded. “Commander. How can I help you?”

Al-shira didn’t seem to hear the question quite the same way he had. “Is that why you made me flag captain on
Wolfhound
? Because I wasn’t ready for an independent command like Commander Flint was?” Her voice was pitched low and dangerous, and her dark eyes smoldered slightly. Jacob met her gaze steadily and folded his arms across his chest.

“No, Naomi. The reason you’re my flag captain is at some point I am going to screw everything up.”

Al-shira tilted her head and raised both eyebrows, but Jacob continued before she could respond.

“I’ll hesitate at the wrong time, or I’m going to miss some detail that should have been obvious. Or maybe I’ll just lose track of the position
Wolfhound
is in while I’m arranging the other ships.” He shook his head. “When that happens, I need someone I can trust absolutely to bring me back in line. Someone I can trust to get us the hell out of whatever mess I put us in. You’re it.”

She rocked back on her heels slightly. “Oh really? That’s not something you made up on the spot to keep me from beating your head in?”

Jacob threw up his hands in disgust. “No, it’s not! Damn it, Naomi, what do I have to do to convince you I need your help here?”

For a long moment, Al-shira stared at him. Then she laughed and gave him a horrifyingly playful look. “Oh you don’t need to convince me, Jacob. I just like keeping you on your toes.”

He stared at her, completely baffled, for a moment longer as she scooped up the reader he’d left on the table and handed it over. Then he gave her a crooked grin. “Fine. Two can play at this game, Commander Al-shira. Remember this when you try and claim I’m not being fair in the future.”

Al-shira glanced back as she sauntered through the hatch. “Keep talking,
captain
, and maybe someone’ll listen. Now come on, we’ve got work to do.”

Jacob sighed, shook his head, and followed. She was right, of course, but that wouldn’t make dealing with any of it easier. Between the conflict with Kenning—which he was nowhere near stupid enough to believe settled—and the rushed work orders needed to prepare his ships for departure, he had plenty on his plate. Just reading through the readiness and supply reports would be hours of numbing, dreadful, necessary work. Yet there was a bright spot on the horizon now, something Jacob could reach for. He just had to hold his squadron together long enough for them to reach Tiredel, and then hopefully the High Admiral would take care of the rest.

For the time being, Jacob had to keep up with Naomi Al-shira, and his only hope was that it would not be as difficult as it already seemed. He shook his head and followed her into the hallway. One way or another, their time in Reefhome was about to come to an end.

 

Chapter Eighteen

The next day, Squadron 43 of the Celostian Navy left the Reefhome docks. The workers who had labored on those ships stood along the docking berths to bid them farewell, many offering sloppy salutes or soundless cheers as the ships passed their stations. On the Station itself, the civilians were having a farewell celebration, where the governor had arranged to make a speech. From what Jacob had heard, half the Station would be in attendance as they commemorated the departure of
Wolfhound
and her sister ships.

Jacob had encouraged the crews to leave messages for their families and loved ones aboard the Station before they had embarked. The resulting flood of letters had swamped the small dispatch office on the Station, but it had been worth the disgruntled grimaces of the office workers to guarantee his crews would be able to reassure and connect with their homes one last time. Given how many of them might not have the chance again after Tiredel, Jacob’s crews deserved the opportunity to leave words of kindness to those they would leave behind.

He had been fortunate not to have to leave a letter behind this time. Catherine and Michael remained on the Station, and the last Jacob had heard his sister was already looking for space to house Michael’s new engineering consultant business. Though their engagement was recent and far too new to predict anything with any certainty, Jacob was reasonably sure his sister would be well taken care of—when she wasn’t too busy managing her future husband’s life for him.

There had been time for only a brief reunion and a rushed farewell, but Jacob had been glad of the chance to see her happy at last. If something happened to him at Tiredel, she wouldn’t be left alone; if he came back, he would find her all the happier. It was everything he had wanted for her, and at the very least he could go into battle certain she would have a part in the Union he was defending.

 

The first riftjump was nerve wracking. With the slight delay in the charging process, Jacob spent a few minutes agonizing over whether the new Capistans and their companion riftjump generators would function as planned or explode inside the hulls of his destroyers. Fortunately for him, and anyone else aboard
Wolfhound
and the other ships of Squadron 43 Michael’s design worked as planned. All four destroyers made an accurate jump to Lindon.

Lindon was so lightly defended that Jacob almost asked
Wolfhound
’s sensor officer to recheck the system for evidence of an Oduran raid. The normal garrison of three frigates and two corvettes had been cut back to a single ship, an
Arrowhead
corvette that could barely hope to hold its own against a pirate craft. The
Iriud
contacted Jacob’s ships immediately and reported the rest of the defenders had been pulled away to Tiredel. The commander looked justifiably worried and urged Jacob to transit the system as quickly as possible to join the task force there.

As reassuring as it was to find his assumptions were correct, Jacob’s worries were deepening. If the fleet was aware of the threat it faced, it was one thing. Fear of that same threat was something else entirely. To find even a commander of a backwater corvette so frightened of the Oduran task force did not bode well for the state of mind in the rest of the fleet, and if that same panic had infected the minds of the rest of the Navy’s officers it could lead to defeat all on its own. If the Celostian Navy could be broken at Tiredel, who was to say the Odurans would not continue to press their advantage? The possibilities worried him, and he wondered if the Union’s time had finally come.

They made transit two days later, powering through the system at full speed. His ships had time for only a few basic maneuvering tests and point defense drills, as well as a few gun drills that included no actual live fire. That kind of exercise was understandably avoided in inhabited systems; nobody wanted a freighter or passenger shuttle to drift into the line of fire, least of all the gunners themselves.

The next two systems gave them far more opportunity to practice. Neither GRC 53172 nor GRC 81964 had any trace of human habitation, and every weapon test was conducted with determined, almost desperate energy. System failures produced by the stress were identified and corrected by the engineers aboard, and before long, they left those empty stars behind for Tiredel.

There they found the largest fleet Jacob had ever seen. There were four
Golem
class dreadnaughts gathered in the system, the largest ships of the Celostian Navy. More heavily armored then their Oduran counterparts, the
Golem
s were designed for endurance. Odurans tended to focus their fire on larger craft, and the dreadnaughts had been built with that fact in mind. Their protection made them incredibly expensive and rare as well. Seven had been made, and only five still survived. The
Star, Rifle, Sword
and
Seat
were all present; only
Eagle
, still heavily damaged from the actions near Rigannin, was missing.

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