Badger (10 page)

Chapter Six

Jacob was nearly the last to arrive, which was depressingly typical for him. As he entered the room, the rest of the officers turned to look at him, and then they resumed their conversations. Jacob ran his gaze over the assembled men and women of the Celostian Navy and repressed the urge to whistle. There wasn’t an officer below commander rank in the entire bunch, and a handful wore the eagle and stars of admirals. The High Admiral obviously not hesitated to bring in whatever officers he needed for the operation, no matter what their responsibilities were.

Intensely aware of how little any of these officers were interested in him, Jacob decided to say nothing and wait for the meeting to begin. He walked to the nearest unoccupied seat, stepping around an admiral in animated discussion with two captains, and settled in. Idly, he listened to the hum of conversation around him and wondered if he would have long to wait before the High Admiral arrived and began his presentation. It would certainly be a relief to finally hear what kind of plan Nivrosky had brought them here to carry out.

It wasn’t long before Jacob’s solitary vigil was interrupted. Commander Kenning, his face animated and friendly, slid into the seat next to him. “Captain Hull! It is good to see you. Have you had a comfortable stay here on the
Badger
?”

Surprised the commander was taking the time to speak with him, Jacob nodded. “Yes, Commander, I have.” He smiled uncertainly. “At the very least, the food here is a lot better than anything we had aboard
Terrier
. How have you been holding up here?”

Kenning grinned. “It’s an incredible opportunity to learn from so many officers! I’ve spent most of my career thus far confined to remote posts or closeted in staff assignments, and so it’s refreshing to be in the middle of things. To mix and mingle with the great captains of the fleet.” A slight inclination of the head implied Kenning included Jacob among the last group, and Jacob felt acutely uncomfortable. Kenning did not seem to notice. “Not that I need to tell you that. After all, you’ve already had lunch with Commander Nivrosky, and you had a close conversation with the High Admiral himself! What was it like?”

Jacob shifted slightly in his seat. He wondered if the younger man remembered Leon was officially his subordinate, someone he would see on a regular basis even off the
Badger
. “Nothing special, really. I spoke with High Admiral Nivrosky only briefly in the hangar, I’m afraid, and Leon mainly showed me to the mess.” Kenning seemed to be waiting for more, and Jacob fished for something further to say. “Like I said though, the food was definitely worth the trip.”

The other officer chuckled. “I suppose it is at that. So was your meal disturbed by any new assignments from the Admiral, Captain Hull?”

His discomfort grew. “New assignments? Why would you ask, Commander Kenning?”

There was a moment’s awkward pause as Commander Kenning blinked repeatedly. A small tic showed near his left eye. It took a few moments for the commander to speak. “Only curious. After all, word is the High Admiral has been planning some personnel changes. I merely wondered if you were one of them.” Kenning shrugged. “If it’s not the case, however, I wouldn’t worry. I’m sure Nivrosky will find something suitable for your talents.”

Jacob nodded. “I’m sure he will.” Kenning’s eyebrows drew closer together for a moment, but his friendly demeanor was quick to return.

“Of course, Captain Hull. We can always rely on the High Admiral to keep things interesting.” His eyes glinted, and he leaned closer. “Captain Hull, I hope you do not find me intrusive, but may I ask a question?”

Jacob grunted softly. Truthfully he was already wishing the awkward conversation would end, but he felt obligated to continue until a convenient excuse presented itself. “Go ahead, Commander.”

Kenning glanced to either side as if he wanted to be sure nobody was near enough to eavesdrop. “I had heard you and Commander Naomi Al-shira had an…altercation…this morning. Was there any particular reason for your disagreement?”

Jacob gave Kenning a sharp look. If there was anything he wanted to talk about less than his discussion with Leon Nivrosky, it was what had happened with Al-shira. “I’m…afraid I don’t know what you are talking about, Commander.”

The commander sat back and chuckled again. His amusement was starting to grate on Jacob’s nerves. Kenning’s tone wasn’t much more palatable. “Of course, of course, Captain. I had heard you and Naomi Al-shira had grown close through your shared experiences. Entanglements can be such complicated things, can’t they?”

Jacob felt his face heat. “I don’t think you understand what I’m saying, Kenning. Whatever rumors you’ve been hearing, the truth is
Commander
Al-shira and I had a discussion about several professional subjects, none of which are anything close to what you happen to be implying.”

A wicked smile worked its way across Kenning’s lips. Jacob felt the sudden urge to punch the other man, but he restrained it. “A fairly intense discussion over professional subjects. May I ask what merited such…passion…about your work?”

Jacob’s hands clenched into fists. “No, you may not.” Kenning leaned back in, mouth open to continue, but Jacob shook his head sharply. “If you would excuse me, Commander Kenning.” He turned in his seat, catching a flash of annoyance on Kenning’s face. A moment later, the chair scraped back and the other man left, and nobody took his place. Jacob, not particularly worried about Kenning’s feelings, chose to glare at the table in front of him and fume.

Only when everyone began to rise and salute did he snap out of his trance. Jacob rose as well, just in time to bring his hand up and properly greet the High Admiral as he entered. Alan Nivrosky paused on the threshold of the doorway and returned their salutes. His grey eyes swept over the assembled officers, studying them each with cool calculation. Then he strode across the room to the head of the table. He gestured for them to sit while he remained upright. “Please. I’ve spent enough time in a chair already.” A couple of officers chuckled at the feeble joke, but most took their seats without comment. Jacob watched as the High Admiral activated a control and lowered the lights in the room.

“I thank each of you for your cooperation. I realize many of you have important duties and heavy responsibilities in your areas, and to set those aside, even for a short time, is more than I would normally ask.”

Nivrosky shook his head. “Unfortunately, as you will see shortly, we are hardly in the midst of a normal situation. For this reason I have decided to plan and carry out an operation which, with your support, can preserve the defenses against Oduran aggression for the entire Celostian Union.”

A projection appeared from the center of the table, a panoramic view of the space along the border. From the Abundance system at the far edges of Union space, to Celostia itself in the center of the Union, and on to the border with the Oduran League, the stars claimed by the Celostian Union glowed a bright blue. Beyond that border was a gap, where the stars were simple grey specks denoting neutral or unaligned systems.

On the other side of the empty space was a much larger mass of stars of another color. Red points of light marked the systems controlled by Oduran member states as far as the intelligence assets of the Navy had been able to determine their extent. The area was enormous, easily five times larger than the Union. Partway through the uninhabited wilderness of stars between the worlds, the newly Oduran allied system of Telos glowing a bright yellow on the fringes of the projection, with their most recent acquisitions shining orange nearby. Their sudden spurt of expansion did not bode well for the Union either.

It was discouraging to see so many enemies facing the small patch of blue, but the image only reinforced what Jacob already knew about the desperate situation in which the Union found itself. The slightest falter and the League would sweep the Union from the stars with barely a thought. The Celostian military had borne the brunt of the conflict, in battle after battle, campaign after campaign. Rigannin had not been the first struggle against the Odurans. In the time of the Regal High Seats, there had been other battles, victories that had taken all the strength and valor of the Royal Fleet—the embryo of the Celostian Navy—to achieve, and had required a price of blood and tears Jacob hoped he would never have to see paid again.

Nivrosky spoke, and his voice reflected a lifetime of standing against that tide and paying that price. “Gentleman and ladies, you know the desperation of our situation. The Union fields nearly a third of the fleet the Odurans can support, and that was before the Telosians threw their strength behind the League. Unfortunately, we suffer from another disadvantage.”

“The Odurans have little to fear from an offensive strike, and so they are free to concentrate their forces and strike wherever they choose. We are forced to spread our ships across the length of the border in the hope that we can intercept an attack before it reaches past our defenses. In fact, our ships have had to pull back to the second or even third line of systems because otherwise we cannot muster enough forces. The frontier and border are often open to Telosian and Oduran raids, save for those few patrols we send out on a regular basis.”

“We have been able, however, to deal several setbacks to the Odurans. The Navy turned them back at Sirena and Wallard; more recently we caught them and beat them at Liandre. Each time, however, they have given us time to collect our forces and prepare for them.” Nivrosky paused and touched another control. “More recently, the Odurans seem to have set their sights on a broader view of the conflict.”

A wave of purple marks spread like a stain along the border. The systems they highlighted sometimes carried multiple marks, and it was simple to figure out why when Nivrosky continued. “Each of these marks represents an Oduran raid in the past eight months. While none have been attacks in large forces, each strike has claimed Celostian lives. Nearly forty-seven supercarrier-class merchant ships have been intercepted and destroyed. Their crews have been killed or captured. Nearly twice that many personal craft, independent merchantmen, and passenger liners have been taken. Those times when the Navy has been there to stop them, our patrols have been hit hard enough to put several of our ships in the docks, and our crews have taken heavy casualties.”

Nivrosky fell silent for a moment. Nobody made a sound until he continued. “What caused this shift in policy is unknown. Only a few of our intelligence assets have managed to penetrate Oduran space, and very few have managed to make contact since the last major campaign. As a result, we lack the information we need to anticipate further Oduran operations. Fortunately, we had the chance to obtain a few intelligence reports that may shed further light on the situation.” He turned and gestured to another officer. “Commander Kenning, could you summarize your findings for us?”

Jacob blinked, surprised. Kenning stood, his friendly demeanor barely hidden behind a veneer of professionalism. He began his report in a somewhat indulgent tone which Jacob hardly thought appropriate for a military officer, but the others didn’t seem to notice.

“During my work at the Intelligence Center on Tiredel, the reports I have received about the situation on the other side of the border have been less than glowing. With your permission, High Admiral?”

Nivrosky nodded, and Kenning touched a control.

The projection of the known systems was replaced by the images of three people. One was a nondescript man in an Oduran military uniform standing at attention. The grey and purple tunic he wore was marked by a row of awards for valor in battle, as well as a rank bar marked with three gold slashes. A second man, in long flowing robes, was in the middle of a rousing speech, his arms outstretched and his open mouth wide. His blue eyes were filled with a self-righteous fury Jacob had only seen in the worst of fanatics, and he did not doubt that whatever the speech was he was giving, he had very little peaceful intent.

It was the last image that captured Jacob’s attention however. The man who stood there had a hard, unyielding expression, with features that could have been sculpted in granite. He wore formal attire, a severe dark suit with a matching black shirt beneath. His collar was open, and instead of a tie a large, ostentatious medallion glimmered on his chest. Inscribed on the medallion was the symbol of the Oduran League, a world with two hands encompassing it.

Whil Kenning spoke, the third figure grew more distinct and the others faded. “This is President Myron Banks, the central authority of the Oduran League. He has been in power for nearly twenty years since the death of his father and by all accounts rules as a virtual dictator within the League. While technically the League is an alliance of the various governments it represents, in actuality Banks is free to appoint any members of his family or friends he desires to lead the various League governments. As far as we know, he has not hesitated to place them in places of influence and authority or to use the Oduran military to quell any uprisings or protests against the League. For that reason he has been able to maintain power and prevent the dissolution of the League.”

The information was hardly new, but Jacob tried to focus. As annoying as Kenning could be on a personal level, Nivrosky had asked him here for a reason. The intelligence commander continued as Banks’ image grew less prominent and the other two returned to focus. “From what we have been able to learn, the member states of the Oduran League are not under stable control of the central authority. Several states have risen up in rebellion against the League, with several local leaders rising up in rebellion.”

An admiral further up the table spoke. “Could the League be dissolving? Or could these rebels become allies against the rest of the Odurans?”

Kenning shook his head. “Neither seems to be the case. The rebels belong to a variety of different factions, but there seems to be relatively few of them we could even generously consider being possible allies. Though they may not appreciate Banks’ heavy handed control of the League, they still seem to continue the hatred of the Union that has motivated the League thus far.” The commander touched another control, and the robed figure snapped into sharp relief. Banks faded into the background.