Solfleet: The Call of Duty (102 page)

“Why would Admiral Hansen send me
all the way out here on an unauthorized mission?” he asked as he grabbed a pair
of plain white coffee mugs out of the rack and handed one to Benny. “He didn’t
strike me as the kind of officer who would casually disobey orders.”

“I doubt there was anything casual about
it,” Benny said as he started filling his mug. “Besides, acting in the absence
of orders isn’t necessarily the same as acting
against
orders.”

“What does that mean?” Dylan asked
as Benny topped off his mug then stepped aside. But no sooner had the question
passed his lips when he realized that he already knew exactly what Benny was
inferring. “Oh. You mean that he might not have been ordered
not
to
pursue the mission.”

“Exactly.”

As they started toward what, in the
short time they’d been there, had become their usual table near the back of the
dining room, Dylan noticed the people around him throwing curious glances in
his direction. He stared right back at them but didn’t say anything. Noticing his
apparent discomfort and seeing the reason for it, Benny pointed out, “It’s
probably the outdated uniform you’re wearing.”

Dylan glanced down at himself with
sudden understanding and then looked at Benny and said, “Right. I forgot I was
wearing it.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Benny
said as they reached their table. They pulled their chairs out—as usual, Dylan
chose the one facing the door so he could keep an eye on everyone who entered—and
sat down across the table from one another. “Everyone here knows what this
outpost is about. They all have special security clearance.”

“I know. It just bothers me that I
could forget something like that so easily. Good way to blow a mission.”

“You’re no longer on a mission,
remember?” Benny pointed out. “If you were, I’m sure your instincts wouldn’t
have let you make any mistakes. Now where were we?”

“I suppose. You were reminding me
that acting in the absence of orders isn’t the same thing as actually
disobeying orders and we were assuming that’s what the admiral did.”

“That’s right. The president’s
message, as I read it, wasn’t at all clear on that point. All she said was that
you were to be stopped because she hadn’t authorized your mission. She didn’t
say anything about specifically having told the admiral
not
to pursue
the mission.”

“Splitting those hairs pretty fine,
aren’t we, Benny?” Dylan asked as he raised his mug to his lips. He took a
cautious sip. As usual, the coffee was too hot and too strong. But he’d drink
it anyway, of course, when it cooled down a little.

“Are we?” Benny asked, letting his
own coffee sit and cool. “The inherent ability to act in the absence of orders
is an important trait of a good leader.”

“Yeah, I know,” Dylan said as he
followed Benny’s example and set his coffee aside to cool. “They taught us that
in the Primary Leadership course at the N-C-O Academy. But that distinction
seems a little flimsy in this case if you ask me. I mean, look at the specifics
of the mission—at the finality of its consequences. Do you honestly believe the
president would have left any doubt in the admiral’s mind if she’d decided
against pursuing it?”

“Honestly? No, I don’t,” Benny
admitted, shaking his head. “I think she would have very clearly and
specifically ordered him to stand down, but maybe she didn’t make her decision
prior to him sending us out here.”

“Hmm. I hadn’t thought of that,”
Dylan confessed.

“Granted,” Benny continued, “the
admiral’s career has had its share of bumps and rough spots over the years, but
until we receive information to the contrary, I’d prefer to give the admiral the
benefit of the doubt.”

“Yeah,” Dylan agreed. “That’s fair,
I guess.”

“There’s no guessing involved,
Dylan,” Benny clarified. “It
is
fair and we owe him that. As you say, look
at the specifics of the mission.”

Benny paused for a moment to
consider what else to say, and what
not
to say. While he was right about
everyone assigned to the outpost having a special security clearance, none of
them had a need to know the details of Dylan’s mission. Even though it had been
stopped cold, the Timeshift Resolution was still classified ‘Top Secret,’ and
that classification would remain in effect until someone with the authority to
do so downgraded it.

“Or better still,” he almost whispered
when he continued, “consider the alternative. You know what’s at stake here,
Dylan. You know what the Coalition worlds are facing. If you ask me, Admiral Hansen
had a pretty damn good reason for going forward, orders or not.”

Dylan did as Benny suggested. He
considered the alternative to going forward with the mission. The pictures that
flashed through his mind—pictures of war, pictures of the slaughter of
millions, pictures of the destruction of whole worlds including the Earth—were
every bit as bleak as those Admiral Hansen had painted for him during his
mission briefing. Benny had a point. “I guess I can’t argue with that,” he
finally said.

“Exactly. And if I know Admiral
Hansen half as well as I think I do, then I have to believe that he thought the
mission to be absolutely necessary.”

“Oh, he thought it necessary all
right,” Dylan ardently confirmed, nodding his head. “You’re definitely right
about that, Benny. But for someone so high up in the chain of command to have
even
maybe
disobeyed the orders of the Commander-in-Chief...” He shrugged.
“I guess I’m just not used to seeing something like that.”

“Given where you come from, that’s
understandable. You’re used to strict obedience.”

“You’ve got that right.”

“But we’re not talking about the
Rangers here, Dylan,” Benny reminded him. “Or about the Corps, or even the
Military Police. We’re talking about a three-star admiral. Still, even if he
did
disobey presidential orders, I’m sure he didn’t do so lightly.”

Dylan picked up his mug and sipped
his coffee again—still very hot, but drinkable—then asked, “So what do you
think will happen to us now?”

Benny shrugged. “My guess is we’ll
be ordered to return to Earth immediately.”

“Think we’re in trouble?”

Benny shook his head. “I doubt it,”
he answered as he reached for his coffee. “As far as we knew we were obeying
the lawful orders of a superior officer. No one can punish us for that.”

Dylan snickered. “Sure they can,” he
said. “You’re talking about the military, remember? If someone high enough up
in the food chain wants us punished, they’ll
find
a reason to punish us.
You can bet Akagi will push for it.”

Benny sipped his coffee, then asked,
“That’s a pretty cynical attitude to have, don’t you think?”

“Based solely on past observations.”

“The past observations of an N-C-O,
correct?”

“Yeah. So what?”

“So you’re a commissioned officer
now,” Benny explained, visibly disappointed. “You need to keep such attitudes
to yourself for the sake of your subordinate troops’ morale.”

“What subordinate troops?” Dylan
asked. Then he pointed out, “I’m not in a leadership position here, Benny. I
don’t have any subordinate troops. And no offense intended, but if being a
commissioned officer means I can’t speak my mind, then I’d rather resign my
commission.”

“
Captain Sedelnikov and
Lieutenant Graves, please report to Commander Akagi’s office immediately,
”
the deputy commander’s voice called out from the speakers in the ceiling,
cutting off Benny’s response. “
Captain Benjamin Sedelnikov and Lieutenant Dylan
Graves, report to Commander Akagi’s office.
”

Dylan sighed. “What now?” he asked
rhetorically.

“Perhaps Commander Akagi has
received his clarification,” Benny surmised as he stood.

“This fast?” Dylan asked as he, too,
stood up.

“We’ll find out soon enough.”

They pushed their chairs in under
the table, then headed for the commander’s office, leaving their coffee behind.

* * *

“Come in, gentlemen,” Akagi said,
smiling warmly as he stood up behind his desk.

Dylan and Benny looked around as
they entered Akagi’s office for the first time. It was small and sterile, more the
size of a walk-in closet than of an office, and completely impersonal. A small
standard-issue falsewood table with shortened legs and a computer terminal on
top served as the commander’s desk. There were no paintings or prints hanging
on the dreary gray walls, no antique books lined up on the nearly empty
shelves, and no family holophotos or little bobbles or trinkets or knick-knacks
of any kind anywhere. There wasn’t even a Federation flag or a Solfleet crest
behind him. Overall, the office looked more like an afterthought than a
commanding officer’s domain—like a small, impromptu workspace that had been
hastily thrown together long after the facility’s construction had been
completed.

“Please forgive the starkness of my
office,” the commander politely requested. “I don’t spend a lot of time in
here. As I explained earlier, I’m much more of a scientist than I am an
administrator. I prefer to spend my time at the Portal or in the research labs.”
He gestured toward the pair of thinly padded fold-out chairs in front of his
so-called desk. “Please, gentlemen, have a seat. Make yourselves comfortable.”

“You’re in an awfully good mood all
of the sudden,” Benny observed as all three of them sat down.

“With good reason, Captain,” Akagi
expounded. “Things are finally looking up.”

“What do you mean, sir?” Dylan
asked. Benny was right. Akagi was in an awfully good mood, acting much
friendlier, much more personable than he had at any time since their arrival.
He was obviously very pleased about something, and Dylan suspected it was something
more than just the fact that his mission had been scrubbed.

“I just heard from the president’s
office again,” Akagi told them. “Admiral Hansen has been arrested.”

“Arrested!” Dylan exclaimed. “For
what?” In truth there couldn’t be much question as to ‘for what,’ but he’d
asked anyway.

“This so-called mission of yours,
whatever it might have been, wasn’t just unauthorized, Lieutenant,” Akagi
calmly explained. “The president’s go-ahead was a specific prerequisite to its initiation.
Not only did she never give that go-ahead, she specifically told Admiral Hansen
not
to go forward with the mission,
before
your mission briefing.”
He leaned forward and rested his arms on his desk. “By disclosing the existence
of the Portal and sending you out here with orders to go through it, Admiral
Hansen willfully disobeyed a presidential directive.”

“You seem awfully pleased about
that, Commander,” Benny charged.

Akagi turned his eyes to Benny. “Not
at all, Captain,” he rebutted. “It’s never a pleasing thing to hear that a
fellow officer is in trouble with the law.”

“Bullshit,” Dylan mumbled.

Akagi glared at Dylan. “Excuse me,
Lieutenant?”

“I said
bullshit
, Commander,”
Dylan boldly repeated, glaring right back at him. “Captain Sedelnikov is right.
You look like you couldn’t
be
more pleased.”

As if by some black magic
incantation, the enmity and spite that Dylan and Benny had quickly grown
accustomed to in Akagi at once reemerged in his demeanor. “Look here, you cocky
little junior grade son-of-a...”

“At ease, Commander!” Benny barked. “The
lieutenant’s right and you know it. You said it yourself yesterday when we arrived.
Admiral Hansen has been...how did you put it?...‘grilling’ you every few days
over the comm-channels.”

Though he looked about ready to
scream at the top of his lungs—Benny had no doubt hit pretty close to the mark—Akagi
held his tongue...for a few seconds at least. But then he stood up and leaned
slightly forward on his hands. “You know what,
Captain
?” he asked,
sarcastically overemphasizing Benny’s rank. “I have nothing but admiration and
respect for you and I’ve gone out of my way to show you that respect because
you deserve nothing less. But I’m getting a little tired of your treating me
like some kind of inexperienced junior officer. You may hold a higher rank than
I do, but yours is a
retired
rank. Technically, I’m not required to obey
your orders or abide by your decisions, and I’m
certainly
not required
to let you push me around.”

Benny stared at him for a moment in
silence, then stood up and leaned close, mirroring his posture and nearly
touching his nose with his own. “My rank is
semi-
retired, Commander, so
would you like to bet your career on it?” he quietly asked as he continued to
stare him in the eye without even blinking.

The contest of wills lasted only a
moment longer before Akagi backed off. “The two of you have been ordered back
to Earth for debriefing,” he said as he straightened.

“Says who?” Dylan asked. “You or
Central Command?”

“Central Command,” Akagi answered
flatly as he sat down again. Benny followed suit. “But I sure as hell won’t cry
over your departure.”

“
Comm-room to Commander Akagi,
”
the panel on his desk suddenly called out.

Akagi reached out and tapped the ‘channel
open’ button. “Go ahead.”

“
We’re receiving another message
from Earth, sir.
”

“Pipe it in here, Mister Petrakos,”
Akagi said, sitting straight with an air of superiority about him as he turned
his monitor so his visitors could see it as well. Whatever the message might be,
he was obviously expecting it.

“
Yes, sir.
”

The seconds passed in silence as
they waited. Then a face appeared on the screen. An ashen, sweat-soaked,
soot-smudged face wide-eyed with urgency. It clearly was
not
the face
that Akagi had been expecting to see, and Dylan and Benny were every bit as
surprised as he was.