The silver fleet the com.., p.11
The Silver Fleet: The Complete Series, page 11
He wondered what was so pressing that it would warrant getting his JAG out of bed at such an early hour. He turned at the sound of a lock being turned on the far side of the room.
The door opened and Faulkner appeared. He seemed to have put on some weight since Webster had last seen him but his rolling walk hadn’t changed. Webster got to his feet and saluted.
Faulkner returned the salute. “How you feeling?”
Webster shrugged. He wanted to be angry with Faulkner but couldn’t find it in himself.
“Bored. Frustrated. Angry. You know how it is.”
“Only too well.”
The pair of them sat down, Faulkner doing so with some degree of difficulty. He didn’t seem capable of bending his right leg and the fact that the chair was fixed to the floor wasn’t helping.
“I’m surprised to see you here,” Webster said. “Shouldn’t you be off playing golf with the president or something?”
“You saw the broadcast then?”
“I think everybody did. So, what can I do for you? As you can see,” his arm took in the other empty tables, “I’m a very busy man.”
“Then I’ll get to the point. I take it that you know about Admiral Paige’s battlefleet? They’re all set to advance on Piatra, as if that’s going to change anything.” Faulkner leaned forward. “I’m not sure how much you’ve heard, but things are pretty tense at the moment and it looks like they’re going to get worse before much longer.”
Webster narrowed his eyes.
Why is he telling me all this?
“And these missing ships,” he said, “They’re still no clearer who is behind it?”
“That’s right. Everyone’s claiming ignorance. The Vardiaans are suspending all interstellar travel as of tomorrow and the Yakutians have pulled all their ships back to the four home worlds.”
That got Webster’s attention. “Really. The Yakutians taking up defensive positions? That doesn’t sound like them. Either they know something we don’t or they’re …”
“Running scared? I might not have the greatest affection for our Yakutians friends but something’s up.”
“Does the admiral know what he’s getting himself into?”
Faulkner threw up his hands. “I wouldn’t know. I haven’t spoken with him recently. I speak to his private secretary every couple of days but that’s about as far as I get.”
“He must be getting organised, working out his plan of attack – if indeed he’s planning to attack. When are they leaving? Must be pretty soon.”
“I wouldn’t know. I get sent updates every now and then but they’re just the regular ones every fleet officer gets. As far as what the Yakutians are planning – I have no idea. It’s like they’ve already given up on Piatra.”
Piatra, or The Rock as it was more commonly known, was prized for its strategic positioning more than anything. Situated in the contested Astares system, Piatra was currently occupied by the Yakutians but had changed hands countless times over the years.
Webster grimaced. “If you don’t mind me saying so, sir – it sounds like the admiral doesn’t have the same regard for you as the president does.”
“I was starting to think that way myself.”
“Is it possible he’s trying to have you side-lined?”
“I think there’s every chance that he is. The question is: why?”
Webster hesitated. While he respected Faulkner’s achievements, they were lodged in the dim and distant past so he’d been as shocked as everyone when the president had gifted him the Mantis. Though he liked and admired Faulkner, he had serious misgivings about the man’s competency when it came to managing a modern-day star ship.
“Ok, sir. I’m going to speak frankly: have you taken a look at Admiral Paige’s service record recently?”
“Can’t say I have.”
“Well, let me tell you: it makes interesting reading. You’ve heard, of course, of the Admiral’s widely publicised war time experience?”
“As I understand it, he fought at the Battle of Borodino.”
“‘Fought’ might be somewhat over-stating it. He was in naval intelligence at the time as a communications officer. He was stationed on Mahan during that conflict, some twelve light minutes distant. If he’d been any further away from the action he’d have been in another star system. Let’s face it, the admiral isn’t exactly cloaked in glory, so you don’t have to be a genius to see that he isn’t going to take kindly to having a decorated war hero serving under him. He’s going to worry that his officers might well look to you when things start to hot up.”
“But Paige was the one who recruited me in the first place.”
“If you’ll pardon me, he’s done that as a way of pleasing the president. And Paige wouldn’t have liked the fact that you were offered the Mantis without him being consulted first. The admiral isn’t used to sharing the lime-light and no doubt sees you as some kind of threat.”
“You really think he could be that small minded? At a time like this?”
Webster suppressed a laugh. “Sir, you have to understand: a lot’s changed since your day. Nowadays, advancement is based on an officer’s ability to build alliances and swap favours. It’s a whole different skill set. Internal politics are a lot more important during peace time than they were in your day. It’s rare now for officers to be given any kind of autonomy. It’s as much about who you know as what you know and if Admiral Paige has, for whatever reason, taken a dislike to you, he’s going to make things very difficult indeed. I’m sorry, but there it is.”
“No,” Faulkner was nodding sagely. “I asked you for an honest opinion and that’s what you’ve given me. Not particularly what I wanted to hear but I’ve had worse.”
I’m sure you have.
“It looks to me as if Paige has no intention of making the Mantis part of his fleet. He’ll think of some reason for leaving you behind but nobody’s seriously going to question him.” Then something occurred to Webster. “Can I ask: are you having any problems with getting the Mantis properly resourced? What about officers?”
“It’s not just officers, its right across the board. I’ve been waiting two weeks for my new XO to arrive. Then I discovered - quite by accident - that Paige has already grabbed him for his flagship. Nobody saw fit to inform me. Could be months before I get a replacement and I need someone now. Someone who knows how to get a team together.”
Webster could see the older man’s obvious frustration and wondered what he’d do if faced with the same situation. “What about supplies? Armaments, that kind of thing? What’s happening there?”
“Gravity generators are in a terrible state, we need a new water filtration unit and the rail guns we were promised seem to have gone AWOL. Since we’re no use to anyone without a decent weapons system that’s currently taking up a lot of my time. My chief engineer is still in the process of re-building one of our main engines and there’s only so much he can do. ”
“You need to start working smarter, sir, not harder. Have you considered promoting someone up from the lower ranks? There must be some half decent junior officers around who you could recruit.”
“I thought about that but anyone worth their salt has already been poached by the main battlefleet. No, I was thinking about approaching someone else. Someone from outside.”
Webster’s laugh echoed off the walls. “Well, good luck with that, sir.”
Faulkner didn’t respond, he just stared at Webster.
Realisation was slow in coming.
“You’re not seriously asking me? Really?”
Faulkner indicated the room around them. “It might be a solution to your current situation.”
“I think the Admiralty are pretty set on keeping me here for the long term. Even if it’s just as a warning to others.”
“Perhaps you’re right,” Faulkner seemed to relax. “These are quite serious charges you’re facing, after all. They could press for a quick court martial or leave you sitting here while they try and cut through all this Yakutian red tape. It could take months to resolve. Even years.”
“But if there is a war coming up, I could be released tomorrow.”
“And then what? The Syracuse is long gone and with this on your record you’re hardly likely to be given another command, are you? Chances are that you’ll keep your rank and they’ll just move you sideways. Put you in charge of a storage facility somewhere? I’ve seen it happen. It’s the way the navy works. With no chance of advancement you’d have to stand by and watch while other – less talented officers – took the prime jobs.”
Webster stood up. “I think I’d like to go back to my cell now, if it’s all the same to you.”
Faulkner fixed him with a stare.
“Look, Alex, I know how much losing the Syracuse must have meant to you but you can’t let that get in the way of your returning to active duty. Granted, you won’t have your own ship, but at least this way you’ll be able to put your skills to some use. Don’t give me your answer now. Take a day or so to think it over.”
Webster eased himself back in his seat. It had only been a few days but already he was exhausted by the thought of having nothing to do all day. How would it be to have something he could take pride in again? To have some sense of achievement?
“Ok. I’ll think about it. What will you do in the meantime?”
“Like you said: it’s all about politics. Looks like I’m finally going to have to get my hands dirty.”
*
The décor on-board the president’s cruiser was unlike anything Faulkner had seen on any other ship, anywhere. The fixtures and fittings had more in common with a luxury hotel back on Earth Prime. It didn’t make sense. He had been raised with the understanding that in space, size and weight were at a premium. Cabin space was limited and any non-essential equipment would be quickly stripped out but strangely, on the Fargo, the absolute reverse appeared to be true. The boarding area itself was vast with corridors leading off in all directions. The way ships were laid out had certainly changed a lot in the past twenty years, he decided, surveying the wealth of fine furnishings decorating the floor and walls.
After being processed through security, he was taken down a series of corridors until they arrived at a heavily fortified airlock. After a series of body scans, he was ushered through into a palatial waiting area which had a marble coffee table as a centrepiece.
Marble. On a starship!
It didn’t bear thinking about.
As he moved further into the room he saw Admiral Paige sitting on a sofa over in one corner. He barely raised his head from his tablet as Faulkner saluted.
This is what Webster had meant, he thought. Paige had his own agenda. He was only interested in those who had the power to advance his career or those rare few who were capable of damaging it.
Faulkner went and sat on one of the chairs over to his right. Faulkner wasn’t surprised to see him. In fact, he’d expended a great deal of effort planning this ‘coincidental’ meeting. When the Admiral’s personal secretary had let slip that Paige had an appointment with the president the next day, Faulkner had known immediately what it was he needed to do. It hadn’t been easy but he’d quickly discovered that his newfound celebrity status was useful when it came to getting people to take his calls.
The only question now was: how long was he going to have alone with the admiral? That would be determined by how efficient the president’s staff were about their timekeeping. His guess was they’d be pretty damned efficient. If that were the case, he reckoned he had a little less than five minutes to put his plan into action.
He cleared his throat, prompting Paige to look up.
The admiral put down his tablet and made the effort to sit up straight.
“Captain, I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”
“I’m just as surprised as you are, sir. This is my first visit to the Fargo.”
Paige cocked his head. “What is it? Press Secretary organising some sort of photo-op with the president? That kind of thing?”
Faulkner heard the slight tension in the other man’s voice and decided to press ahead.
“Oh no, nothing like that,” he produced his own tablet. “We spoke briefly after the medal ceremony, the president and I. And, when I mentioned some of my concerns about the whole mobilisation process, he was kind enough to ask me for my thoughts on the matter.”
Paige threw an arm across the back of the settee, feigning disinterest. “Really. And why is he suddenly coming to you for new ideas?”
“Oh, no reason. I just happened to mention that Piatra, your first port of call, has vast stretches of unforgiving desert. I mentioned that on Borodino several ranks of fighters had had to be withdrawn because their induction systems couldn’t cope with the influx of sand particles. I was worried that this might be a concern for your fighters if they should be sent down to the surface. This seemed to strike a chord with the president.”
The air in the room seemed to cool appreciably.
Any delay in Paige’s plans might well lose him the initiative.
“And you didn’t think to pass these concerns on to me, your commanding officer?”
Faulkner’s fingers skipped lightly over the surface of his tablet. He had prepared this next part meticulously.
“I think you’ll find, sir, that I sent your office a copy of my report on the twenty fifth along with an amended version two days later. I tried to get an appointment with you to personally discuss my findings but your private secretary told me you were far too busy.”
“Report? What report?”
It was now Paige’s turn to scroll through his tablet.
“And you’re telling me that this report was authorised…”
“By the president himself. Yes,” Faulkner said. “I would never have thought to compile one otherwise.”
Apart from a slight hunching of his shoulders, Paige hid his annoyance admirably. The chain of command was one thing but no one could refuse a direct request from the Commander-In-Chief. It took Paige a surprisingly short amount of time to track the report down.
When he had done so, he eyed Faulkner bleakly. The report was seventy pages in length but Faulkner had been sure to bullet-point the main issues on the front page for just this precise moment. The first point, on its own, had the potential to delay the battlefleet by several months.
“I’m assuming that the president doesn’t yet have a copy of this. Am I right?”
As Faulkner nodded, a flicker of understanding passed between them.
“Quite right, admiral. This afternoon’s meeting is for me to formally introduce my findings.”
“I see.”
“The president is mindful of the fact that this may be the beginning of a major military engagement against the Yakutians. He doesn’t want any slip-ups. And, since he values my opinion, he’s asked me to put together a number of discussion points.”
“Discussion points?” Paige was struggling to keep his anger in check. He took a long breath to calm himself. “I take it that you have some specific concerns you want to bring to the president’s attention?”
“That’s right,” Faulkner scrolled through his own copy of the report. “If you’d care to look at page 53.”
The Admiral found the page and started to read. Once he’d finished he looked up.
“I don’t understand. You’re talking about shielding our vessels and yet all our vessels are shielded. What’s your point?”
“You haven’t read all the way to the bottom. Rear Admiral Havelock’s recommendations.”
As he read, Paige’s lips drew tight. When he next looked up, he turned to fully focus on Faulkner.
He said, “Of course, these are only recommendations.”
“I don’t think so. Havelock highlights the cut in funding which meant that the shields on all your vessels are currently 30% below accepted military guidelines, and that’s just for peace time operations. For a major offensive he recommends a complete overhaul: he mentions it just below the section that says, ‘criminally negligent.’”
“Something like that would set us back months, maybe years.”
“Yes,” Faulkner agreed. “That was my reading of the situation as well.”
“I see,” Paige blanked his screen. “And what would it take to make this report of yours disappear?”
“I’m not sure. Delays affect us all, Admiral. The re-supply of the Mantis, for example, has fallen behind quite considerably.”
Paige blew air out through his lips. “Alright. What is it that you want?”
“I’m sending my requirements over to you now.”
Faulkner had prepared the documents in advance and it was a moment’s work to transmit them.
“I see,” Paige said gruffly. “Anything else?”
“The recruitment of both officers and enlisted men for the Mantis seems to have got bogged down in red tape. I’d like that red tape to disappear.”
At that moment, a partition just to their right suddenly opened and a slender black woman wearing a grey blouse stepped through.
“Admiral Paige. If you’d like to come this way?”
Paige’s fingers drummed against his tablet.
He said, “Could you give us a moment?”
The woman seemed bemused by this request but duly disappeared.
“This is a dangerous game you’re playing, captain.”
“This is war we’re talking about, Admiral, something I tend to take very seriously indeed, particularly when the integrity of my command is being jeopardised.”
There. He’d said it. The gauntlet had been thrown. There was no turning back now.
Admiral Paige got slowly to his feet. “You were saying something about staffing levels.”
“I need a level playing field regarding the recruitment of crew members. I want free access to approach anyone outside of your existing battle fleet. Also, an understanding that members of my crew are off limits to other fleet commanders.”
Paige considered this. “Is that all?”
