Federation Reborn 2: Pirate Rage (85 page)

And I admit a bit disappointed.”

“Wanted to see the plasma gun? It's a bit energetic indoors you know. I don't trot it out unless I have to, or if I'm in a rather foul mood.”

“Oh.”

“It's almost the same in some ways,” the admiral said, looking at his arm. It began to morph and change, this time into his plasma cannon. “Both use force emitters instead of electromagnets in the barrel, the carbine is just longer and narrower. The plasma is much shorter ranged.”

“I see, sir.”

“It also takes a bit more of a punch out of my energy budget than this thing. Especially when I can borrow ammo,” the admiral said. He took the target and folded it up, then nodded to a PFC to put another up. When he was back, he checked the stats once more. The range had sprinklers and the wall behind the paper was reinforced. Still it paid to make sure he wasn't about to breach the hull. “Firing one shot. Heavy weapon!” he barked, arm curled still. “Plasma weapon, 20 percent charge, clear on the left,” he turned to Thomas who hastily got behind the line. “Clear on the right,” he intoned, all business as he checked his right. When he faced dead center, he leveled his arm. “Firing!” he said.

A bolt of purple plasma leapt from the mouth of his cannon and obliterated the paper target. It hit the back wall and chewed into the rock and metal there until sprinklers came on to put it out. The plasma hissed and then faded into a defiant glow before it went out.

“Damn, sir!” the PFC said, shaking his head. “And that's just 20 percent??”

“Yeah, I probably should have dialed it down to 10 or lower. I wasn't certain if 20 was enough for the range,” the admiral said.

“I see. Well, we all know plasma weapons can be dangerous,” the range safety officer said, coming into the room. “You know, it would have been nice to let me know in advance, Admiral,” she clacked.

“Sorry. I got a bit carried away showing off,” the admiral admitted, morphing his arm back to normal.

“I see that. We're going to need to rebuild that wall a few weeks earlier than scheduled,” she said dryly.

The admiral couldn't help but smile mischievously. “I'll cover the damages with your CO. It really was for a good cause,” he said.

“I see. Well, I think you've gotten what you need, correct, sir?”

“Is that a polite way to ask me to leave, Sergeant?”

“By no means, sir. But I have a platoon match up coming in any minute now,” she warned. “You don't want to be caught up in it do you?”

“Actually, you know, I do believe I have a prior appointment,” the admiral said, taking off his safety goggles and setting them on the counter. He had Thomas sign the targets, then the RSO. When they were finished, he smiled his thanks.

“Can I ask what that was all about?” the RSO asked as they headed for the door.

“Someone in the IG office reminded me I need to catch up on my quals. I can do them in my sleep, but I'm guessing that isn't the point.”

“And the point is?”

“That no one is above the law or in this case, standards. I hold myself to a high standard and I expect my officers and enlisted to do the same. To continue to strive to be the best they can be.”

“A notable goal, sir.”

“Thank you. Stole it from history actually,” the admiral replied with a shrug. “I think Thomas is a bit too … under developed to handle the hand-to-hand portion however. And I don't want any accusations of bias,” the admiral smiled. “So I'll work on that elsewhere. The same for my PT, engineering, strategic, and tactical quals.”

“Yes, sir. If this is any indication of what you are capable of, you'll undoubtedly ace those as well.”

“Well, I'll try. There are no guarantees,” the admiral admitted. He wasn't looking forward to the other parts of the quals, the security evaluation and officer exams. He could and would pass them, just not right away. He did have other work to attend to. “Have a good evening, Sergeant,” he said as Thomas pushed the exit door open.

“You too, sir,” the sergeant said, saluting him. He saluted and then kept going on to his next appointment.

“Sir, what do I do with the targets?”

“You can send them to an address Protector will give you—certified transport of course,” the admiral said. “With a copy of your recordings and a sheet signing me off,” the admiral explained.

“Yes, sir,” the captain said, making a note.

“Personally, if you want to send a note to whom it may concern, put these where the sun doesn’t shine, I'm all for it. But don't quote me,” the admiral said. “You do and you're on your own,” he warned.

“I'm seriously temped to do it anyway,” Thomas replied, cracking a smile that was threatening to turn into a grin. “But I'll behave if you do, sir.”

The admiral shook his head in despair. “Oh boy. Now I
know
we're in trouble.” That earned a chuckle from the captain.

---<>))))

The
Caravan
class freighter that had escaped from Nightingale jumped into ET right into the expectant hands of forces there. She was damaged and out of fuel and hope of escape.

Intensity hailed her as her jump shock faded.

“What took you so long. We've been waiting for you,” the captain said grimly when he called on the ship to surrender.

---<>))))

“So, we've hit the easy marks, but the big ones are still looming over us,” General Forth said. “Quite frankly, I think it's past time we agree and be done with it. I just wish I could be on hand for the ceremony,” he said.

“Me too,” Admiral Irons said. “Phil? Amadeus? Comments, concerns?”

“I don't know Captain Logan well,” the Neochimp said slowly. “And I'd prefer flag officers who can fight of course.”

“He's done his share of making the fighting possible,” Phil said, surprising Admiral Irons and General Forth with his loyalty to Horatio.

“He has done a bang-up job leading,” Jersey said.

“True enough. He did handle a ship while also handling the system command job in Pyrax. He has made mistakes, but he's owned up to them and done his best to learn from them,” Admiral Irons pointed out.

“When did he … oh I see from his record. He took
Bismark
out?”

“He was also in charge of
Damocles
at one brief point. He was also a ship captain during the first battle of Pyrax,” Phil said. “I learned about those only after I'd met the man and checked out his detailed record more thoroughly. I admit, I wasn't happy about having a jumped-up yeoman in an officer's slot. But we are hurting for people. And to my surprise he's done an outstanding job.”

“He'll always be staff, engineering actually,” Admiral Irons replied. “He knows that. We need officers who can handle all the slots of course.”

“Of course,” Amadeus said. “I'm playing devil's advocate here. Last point, favoritism?”

“Doesn't come into play. We've been over this. We have a very small pool of senior officers to select from. He's at the very top of the list,” Admiral Subert replied.

“All right. When?”

“I was going to give him a month to get used to the idea if it was approved, but the sooner the better I suppose,” Admiral Irons replied.

“True,” Jersey said.

“All right, all those in favor?” All four flag officers signaled assent. “Then the ayes have it. We'll send out the promotion email in a moment and publish it in the fleet times. Phil, you'll handle the ceremony?”

“Yes. I'll keep it brief and quiet since I know he wouldn't want a fuss made and wants everyone to keep the pace up. I know others want to arrange the occasional break, but we've got a series of holidays coming up anyway.”

“Understood.”

“So, when do I get a combat flag officer?” Amadeus asked.

“Currently you know three captains are lined up for that,” Jersey said. “Harris is a prig, but he's good at his job and a good strategist. He's weak on the logistics side as well as some of the personal interactions, but I understand he's been working on it.”

“Renee is, well, tainted,” Admiral Irons said.

“Definitely. She's going to miss this cycle and probably the next,” Amadeus growled.

“Definitely,” Phil replied. “After the review board sits,” he warned.

“Understood. That leaves Trajan. He's good, but do you want to lose your flag captain on the eve of launching your offensive?” Admiral Irons asked.

“Damn it,” Amadeus muttered. “No,” he finally replied.

“Thought not. We need flag officers everywhere. I'd like to have one handling Home Fleet. We need one handling the Eastern offensive when that kicks off. And of course we'll need one each for the various squadron commands.”

“Eventually the capital ship divisions. But I was thinking about leaving a flag officer behind in Protodon actually,” Amadeus said. “I think I shot myself in the foot by putting Trajan on the same ship as myself. He's damn good, but I want someone with those skills sitting here while I'm off.”

“Someone minding the store you mean,” Jersey said.

“Exactly.” Amadeus paused. “I don't suppose I could borrow Harris?”

Admiral Irons snorted. “I'm tempted, but I do need someone with his seasoning minding the store here. He's also gotten in with the academy and setting up some of the strategic think tanks here.”

“Darn.”

“We'll see what the future brings,” Phil said before Admiral Irons committed to sending Renee. He wasn't ready to let her off the hook quite yet.

“Yes. Well, promotion board adjourned gentlemen. Have a good day,” Admiral Irons said.

The others murmured similar sentiments as they individually cut the circuit.

---<>))))

The following day Senior Captain Horatio Logan was called into the wardroom of the officer's mess. He was to attend in formal attire, so he did so much to his annoyance.

When he got near the wardroom, he got a glimmer that something was up. Officers and enlisted lined the corridors, all standing at attention. He made his way through them to the door, then knocked once. “Enter,” the voice on the other side replied.

He hit the hatch open key, and the door opened. He entered and kept himself from looking around to the assembled officers as he came to attention in the room. The table was gone. A small podium was there. Governor Saladin was on hand. His eyes cut to the short governor and then to the others. The governor's grin told him it might be something good. His eyes caught the glimmer of full-size holograms off to the side. He turned just enough to see them clearly out of the corner of his eyes. Jersey, Admiral Irons, Sprite, Admiral White, Nara, and others were in attendance. Harris didn't hide his grin.

“I know you aren't much on ceremony, Captain, so we'll make this brief,” Admiral Subert said formally. “This is being broadcast live throughout the Federation,” he said. That made Horatio straighten his shoulders even more. “Attention to orders. Senior Captain Horatio Logan, for outstanding service to duty and years of tireless work defending the new Federation, you are hereby promoted to Commodore,” the rear admiral said simply.

He turned abruptly to Saul and took the small jeweler's case and then opened it as he presented it to the newly promoted flag officer.

Saul stepped up smartly and then reached up. Gently he removed the captain's old rank insignia on one side of his collar, then the other. Then he stepped aside as Admiral Subert stepped up and attached the new shiny silver and diamond four-sided star. Each side was a diamond shape meeting in the center with a diamond inlayed. It shimmered in the light.

“These were mine by the way. Wear them in good health,” the admiral said. He stepped back and came to attention. Horatio watched as Saul did the same. He felt the instinct to salute and did so. The admiral and company returned the salute.

When the salutes were struck, Phil dropped his hand and held it out to Horatio. “Now that that is over with, congratulations, Commodore,” he said. When the two men shook hands, the room broke out into applause.

“I never thought I'd see the day. Honestly, this is too much,” Horatio said, voice rough with emotion.

“You've earned it,” Admiral Subert said gruffly as they broke their handshake and then Saul took his turn, then gently directed him to go around the room shaking hands with those physically in the room.

“Many people see Admiral Irons’ accomplishments, but you've always been there in his shadow getting the work done. We need your grit, your determination, now more than ever. You've proven yourself ten times over that you can handle the job. Keep proving that. Keep showing others up and encouraging them to step up,” Phil said.

“Thank you, sir, I will.”

---<>))))

Admiral Irons felt a sense of accomplishment when midnight on Friday rolled around the chrono. He had not only finished all of his quals with top marks, but he'd seen a friend and colleague get promoted … a necessary step in the strategic direction he was pointing the navy towards.

He had nearly missed the ceremony and ansible broadcast. He'd had to rush to his office to attend it, and had been glad his part had been virtual since he'd been in his day uniform. A flick of code had changed his avatar to be in full formal wear. He wished putting on the get-up was that easy, he thought wryly.