A Call To Arms: Chapter Fourteen

    They weren’t the words Captain Fairburn wanted to hear, Osterman knew. For that matter, they weren’t the words she wanted to say.

    But she had no choice but to say them.

    “No, Sir,” she said, feeling the pain in her throat. “In all good conscience, I can’t place the blame on Ensign Locatelli.”

    “You can’t?” Fairburn demanded. “Excuse me, Senior Chief, but didn’t you just testify that he ordered his crew to find replacement parts for his tracking systems in any way they could?”

    “Yes, Sir,” Osterman said. “But unless Ensign Locatelli specifically said to take the components from other systems — and I have no evidence that he used any such language — then he’s personally not liable for the, uh, overenthusiasm of his crew.”

    “Isn’t he responsible for knowing what his crew is doing?” Commander Todd put in.

    “Yes, Sir,” Osterman said. “But only within reason. In this case, with Salamander having gone to Readiness Two, the bulk of everyone’s attention was on bringing systems to full operational status, not on wondering where replacement parts had come from.”

    “Then at the very least a charge of negligence should be put on his record,” Fairburn pressed.

    Osterman felt a stirring of annoyance. That wasn’t in any way what she’d just said. Was he even listening to her?

    Probably not. Fairburn had spent an expensive missile for nothing, and he was clearly desperate to share the blame for that fiasco with someone. And if that someone was well-connected, so much the better.

    Osterman could sympathize. She could also agree that Locatelli was a pain in the butt.

    But there were lines she wasn’t ready to cross. This was one of them.

    “Ensign Locatelli was occupied with the preparation of his equipment for combat, Sir,” she said. “As, I daresay, was everyone aboard Salamander.” She hesitated; but this, too, had to be said. “Furthermore, the action of Spacer Carpenter in swapping out the hex is not what caused the telemetry system to fail. That was the fault of whoever subsequently swapped out the telemetry hex for the unreliable one Spacer Carpenter had put into the temperature sensor.”

    Fairburn frowned. “There was another component switch made?”

    As if such switches weren’t the norm aboard his ship. “Yes, Sir, as near as I can tell,” Osterman said. “I did a check on the serial numbers, and while some of that data is…foggy…it supports my conclusion.”

    “Then it was whoever did that swap who’s responsible,” Fairburn said.

    “Except that he or she would have no way of knowing the hex in the temp sensor was used,” Todd murmured reluctantly. “As far as they would have known, it was the original temperature sensor component.”

    Fairburn opened his mouth, probably preparing to point out that the spacer should have done a complete system check once the new hex was in place.

    Closed it again, the words remaining unspoken. Of course there hadn’t been time for anything but the most cursory check before Salamander went to Readiness One and launched the missile.

    There was plenty of liability here, Osterman knew. More than enough to go around. But it was so evenly shared among so many people that there was no way Fairburn would ever be able to gather enough to tar any one person.

    She could understand his desire to find a scapegoat. But it wasn’t going to happen.

    More than that, Fairburn was Salamander’s captain. That was the bottom line. He was her captain, and the ultimate responsibility for what happened aboard her rested with him.

    Fairburn took a deep breath. “I see,” he said. And with that, Osterman knew, the witch-hunt was over. “Commander, close the record.”

    Todd keyed off the recorder, a frown creasing his forehead. Apparently, this wasn’t part of the usual interrogation procedure. “Record closed, Captain.”

    Fairburn’s eyes locked onto Osterman’s. “This stays between the three of us, Senior Chief,” he said. “I will be ending this investigation, and will reluctantly be leaving the records of those involved intact. But I’m not putting up with him and his posturing anymore. I’ve done my time, and I want him off my ship.”

    Osterman glanced at Todd, saw her surprise mirrored there. Clearly, this was news to him, too. “Ensign Locatelli, Sir?” she asked.

    “Who else?” Fairburn countered. “I’ve spoken with Admiral Locatelli, and Captain Castillo’s agreed to take him. He can be Phoenix’s problem for a while.”

    “Yes, Sir,” Osterman said, breathing a little easier.

    “There’s just one catch,” Fairburn continued sourly. “Admiral Locatelli insists that if his nephew goes, you go with him.”

    Osterman stared at him. “Excuse me, Sir?” she asked carefully.

    “You and Ensign Locatelli are being transferred to Phoenix, Senior Chief,” Fairburn said. “Effective immediately upon our return to Manticore.”

    “For how long, Sir?” Osterman asked. “I mean –”

    “I know what you mean, Senior Chief,” Fairburn said. “And the answer is, God only knows. Until Ensign Locatelli is transferred again, I suppose. Or until he grows up. Your guess is as good as mine.”

    “I see, Sir,” Osterman said, her voice going automatically into Petty Officer Neutral mode. Until Locatelli the Younger grew up.

    Right.

    “That’s all, Senior Chief,” Fairburn said. “Dismissed.” He hesitated as Osterman stood up. “And,” he added, “may God have mercy on your soul.”

    Osterman suppressed a sigh. “Yes, Sir,” she said. “Thank you, Sir.”

    Carefully, Breakwater set his tablet on the table. “Extraordinary,” he said. “I trust I don’t have to tell anyone at this table how much that missile cost the Star Kingdom?”

    It was, Winterfall decided, about as rhetorical a question as it was possible to ask. Across from him and Breakwater were Prime Minister Burgundy, Defense Minister Dapplelake, and Admiral Locatelli. At the head of the table was King Edward, himself a former captain in the Royal Manticoran Navy. All four of them would know precisely how much a missile cost.

    Not just in Manticoran dollars, but also in Solarian credits, Havenite francs, and number of years’ worth of a captain’s salary. They knew how much the missile had cost, all right.

    “We’re quite familiar with the numbers, My Lord,” Dapplelake said evenly. “If you don’t mind, let’s move on to the extra pound of flesh you’re hoping to extract.”

    “Please, My Lord,” Breakwater said, in that reproachful tone that managed to be injured and condescending at the same time. “This isn’t about penalties or punishment. On the contrary: given Captain Fairburn’s incident report, I’m ready to concede that you’ve been right about pirate activity in the region.”

    “Really,” Locatelli said. “I haven’t heard any mention of that in your speeches.”

    “Nor has there been any such in Parliamentary or committee meetings,” Burgundy murmured.

    “There’s a time for public pronouncements, My Lords, and a time for private discussion,” Breakwater replied smoothly. “This is one of the latter.” He turned to King Edward. “Your Majesty, I submit that Captain Fairburn’s encounter proves beyond a doubt that there are indeed outside dangers that need to be addressed. Accordingly, I would like to again submit my request that the five remaining corvettes be transferred to MPARS.”

    “And?” the King prompted.

    “And that they retain their full armament,” Breakwater said. “Future pirate activity can only be dealt with if there is a strong, armed presence throughout the Star Kingdom.”

    “Welcome to our side of the argument, My Lord,” Dapplelake said dryly. “Unfortunately, you seem to have forgotten that the problem of crewing those armed ships still remains.”

    “A problem which would have been eliminated long ago if more slots had been opened up for MPARS personnel at the Academy and Casey-Rosewood,” Breakwater countered.

    “You have as many slots as we can afford to give you, My Lord,” Dapplelake said. “But there may be another way.”

    Breakwater tilted his head to the side. “I’m listening.”

    “MPARS already has Aries and Taurus,” Dapplelake said. “Since Baron Winterfall’s rescue modules haven’t proved all that useful — ” he inclined his head at Winterfall, as if apologizing for that assessment ” — I suggest we go ahead and reinstall the box launchers. The Navy will supply you with petty officers and gunnery crews to handle them, and we’ll try to squeeze a few more slots in those rating tracks for your people.”

    “That sounds acceptable,” Breakwater said. “And the other five ships?”

    “Again, we can reassign their current missile crews to MPARS,” Dapplelake said. “Unfortunately, we can’t spare the rest of the crews, so you’ll have to supply those yourselves. At current enlistment and graduation rates, I imagine you can get all of them up and running within the next three to four years. Does that work for you?”

    “Not entirely,” Breakwater said, a frown creasing his forehead. “You say you can’t spare the rest of the crews. Why not? The corvettes already have full crews you could transfer to us. After all, those are men and women you don’t need elsewhere.”

    “Hardly, My Lord,” Dapplelake said. “Most of the Navy’s ships are badly undercrewed, including the corvettes themselves. Even at Casey-Rosewood’s current graduation rate we’re only slowly filling those slots. More significantly, we’re going to need all the personnel we can get — ” he paused, overly dramatically in Winterfall’s opinion ” — since we’re about to bring the battlecruisers Swiftsure and Victory out of mothballs and back to full operational status.”

    Winterfall felt his eyes widen, a small part of his mind noting in retrospect that Dapplelake’s pause hadn’t been overly anything. If anything, he’d underplayed the drama.

    “That is, of course, ridiculous,” Breakwater said. The verbal bombshell had clearly caught him as much by surprise as it had Winterfall, but he was quickly recovering his balance. “We’ve been through this, My Lord, many times. Those ships aren’t needed, and the Star Kingdom simply doesn’t have the money or manpower to operate them.”

    “I think we do,” Dapplelake said. “More importantly, so does the King.”

    Breakwater’s eyes turned to Edward…and in the Chancellor’s face was something Winterfall hadn’t seen in a long time. Something that was almost as stunning as Dapplelake’s own pronouncement.

    Uncertainty.

    “Your Majesty?” Breakwater asked carefully.

    “You heard correctly, My Lord,” Edward said. “If there are indeed pirates working this part of space — and you yourself have just conceded that point — then they must have a base nearby. We can’t simply wait for them to come after us and our neighbors. We have to go find them and deal with them.”

    “And that requires more large ships than we have available,” Dapplelake added. “Hence, the reactivation.”

    For a long moment Breakwater’s eyes flicked back and forth between the Defense Minister and the King. Then, he drew himself up. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty; My Lord,” he said. “But I cannot in good conscience support such an action. My responsibility — your responsibility — is to defend and protect our three worlds, not to send our men and women charging off on some grand adventure to right all wrongs in the galaxy. We’re not the region’s police force, and I have no intention of letting us become one.”

    “You intend to stand against us, then, My Lord?” Burgundy asked. “Because if you do, I tell you right now that you will lose.”

    For a moment the two men locked eyes, and Winterfall found himself holding his breath. There was a sizeable group of Lords who supported Breakwater or who at least tended to follow his lead. But it wasn’t nearly big enough to force a no-confidence vote and take down Burgundy’s government. Even if it was, the King would undoubtedly offer Burgundy whatever time he needed to work out a new coalition and form a new government.

    The other obvious option, that Breakwater would threaten to take his case directly to the people, was even worse. Not only did the King enjoy the support of a sizeable majority of the populace, which would probably doom such an approach anyway, but Edward and Burgundy could never let such a challenge go unanswered. Even just the threat alone would probably get the Chancellor unceremoniously booted out of his job.

    Or would it?

    Because by all logic Breakwater should have been booted already. Like everyone else in the Cabinet, he’d submitted his resignation when King Michael abdicated and King Edward ascended the Throne. Edward had reappointed Burgundy and most of the others, but the common wisdom at the time had been that he would take the opportunity to remove Breakwater’s perennial thorn from the Monarch’s side.

    Only he hadn’t. After a series of closed-door meetings at the Palace, Breakwater had been reinstated to his position.

    And as far as Winterfall knew, no one knew why.

    There were theories, of course. Lots of theories. One was that Breakwater did have enough support to take down Burgundy’s government, and the Chancellorship had been the price for his grudging support. Another was that he knew where too many political bodies were buried, and his appointment was again the price of silence.

    Personally, Winterfall subscribed to the statesman theory: that however annoying Breakwater might be to Burgundy and his government, the man was so good at his job of running the Exchequer that the Prime Minister was able to rise above the politics of the situation and do what was best for the Star Kingdom.

    Of course, none of the theories left Breakwater so steel-clad that he still couldn’t blow it. He most certainly could.

    And he could do it right here, and right now. Fortunately, he knew how and when to choose his battles.

    “Of course I would not stand against the express will of my king,” Breakwater said at last, bowing his head slightly toward Edward. “If he truly believes this is necessary, I will accept his decision.”

    He shifted his gaze to Dapplelake. “I trust, My Lord, that the weapons and crews you promised will be delivered to my other corvettes in a timely manner?”

    “They will,” Dapplelake said. “As has already been noted, we all have the same interest in adding more armed vessels to the Star Kingdom’s spaceways.”

    “Then I believe we are adjourned,” King Edward said gravely. “Thank you all for coming. My Lord Burgundy, a moment more of your time, if you please.”

    Breakwater remained silent as he and Winterfall walked from the palace to their waiting car. With every step Winterfall felt his own tension ratcheting upward as he waited for the inevitable explosion, and wondered how much of it would be directed at him.

    Because he should have seen this coming. He really should. He’d noted the sudden flurry of private meetings over the past few days between the Prime Minister, Defense Minister, and members of the Admiralty. But he’d put it down to an attempt at damage control in the wake of Salamander’s less than impressive encounter with Izbica and the men who’d commandeered her.

    He’d accepted the scenario of Burgundy and Dapplelake scrambling to shore up support. It had never occurred to him to think they might pick that moment to go on the offensive.

    They reached the car and got in. Breakwater closed the door behind him, and Winterfall braced himself.

    “Interesting,” the Chancellor murmured.

    Winterfall shot him a sideways look. Breakwater’s profile was no angrier than his voice. “Excuse me, My Lord?” he asked carefully.

    Breakwater smiled tightly. “Relax, Gavin — I’m not angry with you,” he assured the younger man. “Surprisingly, I’m not even angry with Burgundy and his sledgehammer tactics. Intrigued, but not angry.”

    Winterfall frowned. He hadn’t seen anything from the Prime Minister that could be construed as sledgehammer.

    “I’m not sure I understand, My Lord.”

    “Oh, come on,” Breakwater chided. “Surely by now you’re able to read between the man’s lines. He was prepared to go to the mat for those battlecruisers. Including, I dare say, calling in years’ worth of favors.” He lifted a finger. “The question is why? And why now?”

    “I presume because the King wants them reactivated.”

    “Yes, but why?” Breakwater persisted. “To pay off supporters? To spite me?” He shook his head. “No. Burgundy might do something like that. Not the King.”

    “Personally, I wouldn’t have thought Burgundy capable of much of anything,” Winterfall murmured.

    “That’s because you didn’t know him before King Michael,” Breakwater said ruefully. “He was quite the politician during Elizabeth’s time, with a firm grasp of his opponents’ weaknesses and a clear eye for pushing through whatever laws or policies his sovereign wanted.” He shook his head. “I’d assumed that age and the lack of a strong monarch had simply sapped his strength. I appear to have miscalculated.”

    Winterfall turned that one over in his head. Only minutes ago the Chancellor’s faction had been striding fearlessly through the Star Kingdom’s political waves. Now, suddenly, they seemed to have fallen in over their collective head. “What are you going to do?”

    “I’ll tell you what we’re not going to do,” Breakwater said. “We’re not going to make our stand on this issue. This smells too much like the aftermath of the Secour incident, and I have no intention of going through that kind of humiliation again. No, I think that for the moment we’ll support their move.”

    “Support it?” Winterfall asked, frowning. “You mean actively, as opposed to staying on the sidelines?”

    “Very actively,” Breakwater assured him. “For one thing we’re in the middle of a pirate crisis. For another, playing that card also all but requires them to turn over those remaining corvettes to us in a timely fashion.” He cocked his head. “In fact, if we work it properly, we may be able to make the cause and effect run backwards. That is, we make it look like the Navy gave us the corvettes in exchange for graciously allowing them to reactivate the battlecruisers.”

    “Not much of a distinction,” Winterfall murmured.

    “It’s all in the presentation, my boy,” Breakwater said. “For now, the perception of victory will be enough.”

    He settled back against the cushion. “And sooner or later, Edward will have to show his hand. Once we find out what this is really all about, we’ll find a way to turn it to our advantage.”

    Winterfall exhaled a huff of air. “I hope so.”

    “Trust me,” Breakwater said. “Burgundy may be an excellent politician. But I’m better.

    “Much, much better.”

    The door closed, and it was once again just the two of them. “So you’re not going to tell them?” Burgundy asked.

    “Not yet,” Edward said, feeling some of the tension draining away. He’d tried to hide it from Burgundy and Dapplelake, but he’d dreaded this confrontation. Dreaded what Breakwater and his allies would do in the face of Burgundy’s effective coup d’état.

    And it wasn’t over yet. Not by a long shot. On the surface, Breakwater had committed to supporting the Crown and the rest of the Cabinet. But Edward didn’t believe for a minute that that would be the end of it. Odds were that the Chancellor was merely treading water while he analyzed, considered, and strategized for his next move.

    What that move would be Edward didn’t know. But it wouldn’t be good. Not for him, not for Burgundy, and not for the Star Kingdom.

    “Then when?” Burgundy pressed. “This is a serious threat, Your Majesty.”

    “I almost wish it was,” Edward said with a sigh. “Threats can be faced and dealt with. The problem is that all we have are possible threats, and that argument isn’t going to get us anywhere. Not with Breakwater.”

    “I’d say Gustav Anderman’s newly-enlarged empire is more than just a possible threat, Your Majesty,” Burgundy countered. “I know he keeps saying he’s not in the expansion business, but somehow his territory keeps expanding. Add to that Haven’s assessment that the Silesian Confederacy is starting to look outside its borders, and we need to be rethinking the Star Kingdom’s security needs.”

    “I do understand the problem, Davis,” Edward said mildly.

    Burgundy ducked his head. “My apologies, Your Majesty,” he said. “I’m just…Anderman’s forces could conquer practically anyone in the area. Even Haven would have a serious fight on its hands. I’m just suggesting that reactivating our battlecruisers without Breakwater being totally on board will be like driving a car with the brakes still on.”

    “I understand that, too,” Edward said. “And if I could be sure he would be on our side I’d bring him aboard in a heartbeat. The problem is that if he adds up all the ifs and gets zero, it would be worse than simply having the brakes on. He’d be hitching up a tow truck and pulling the opposite direction, back toward focusing all our efforts and resources on MPARS.”

    Burgundy was silent a moment.

    “I suppose you’re right, Your Majesty,” he said at last. “He doesn’t have the strength for a serious challenge, but he could still roil the waters and make things more difficult. As long as he isn’t demanding explanations, we might as well let sleeping dogs lie.” He eyed Edward closely. “But sooner or later, you’ll have to tell him.”

    “Sooner or later, I will,” Edward assured him. “But he’ll keep for the moment.” He smiled. “Besides, Daddy just promised him a whole set of shiny new corvettes. With luck, he’ll take them back to his favorite corner and play with them for a while.”

    “I hope you’re right, Your Majesty,” Burgundy said doubtfully. “If you’re not, there will be hell to pay.”

    “You’re kidding,” Redko said, craning his neck to look over Chomps’s shoulder. “They’re sending you to MPARS?”

    “That they are,” Chomps confirmed sourly, running his eyes down the tablet again. This was not what he’d expected.

    08-5-76

    BuPers Order 76-7762

    (1) MT 1/c Townsend, Charles, RN01-962-1183, hereby detached RN duty effective 00:01, 22-5-76.

    (2) MT 1/c Townsend, Charles, RN01-962-1183, assigned Temporary Duty MPARS, effective 00:01, 22-5-76.

    (3) MT 1/c Townsend, Charles, RN01-962-1183, hereby assigned HMS Ares, CT05 effective 001:01 22-5-76.

    (4) Transport MT 1/c Townsend, Charles, RN01-962-1183, to HMS Ares, CT05 hereby authorized, to be arranged BuPers/MPARS liaison at the convenience of the Service. (See attachment No. 1.)

    LT CMDR George Sukowski

    By direction of

    ADMR Anastasiya Dembinski

    BuPers RMN

    “Hell on wheels,” Redko murmured, shaking his head. “I’m so sorry, buddy.”

    “Hey, it could have been worse,” Chomps soothed. “I could have been tossed out completely.”

    “You have been tossed out. Just like Calvingdell was.”

    “Not exactly the same thing,” Chomps murmured. The last person he wanted to talk about right now was Countess Calvingdell. “No, you’re right,” Redko said scornfully. “All that happened to her was that she got kicked out of the Defense Ministry and had to go back to a life of ease in Parliament.”

    Chomps looked sharply at him. But Redko was still gazing at the orders on Chomps’s tablet, with no hint of secret knowledge or insight in his face.

    “But I suppose they needed you to work on their new missiles,” Redko continued. He hesitated. “You know…I never thanked you for keeping my name out of things back at Casca.”

    “Not a problem,” Chomps assured him. “The Captain was ready to chew nails. No point in both of us catching the shrapnel.”

    “I still appreciate it,” Redko said. “Especially –” he waved at the tablet “– with this.”

    “Not a problem,” Chomps said again. “You know, I do have two more weeks before I have to report.”

    “Right,” Redko said. “Maybe the orders will be countermanded.”

    “Could happen,” Chomps said, knowing damn well that they wouldn’t. “Maybe MPARS will collapse.”

    “Or maybe we’ll all die in an asteroid collision.”

    “You’re a cheery one,” Chomps said. “I was thinking more along the lines that you’d have plenty of time to buy me a drink.”

    “More than just one,” Redko said. “In fact, let’s start right now. We’re off-duty, right?”

    Chomps checked his chrono. “Seven more minutes.”

    “Seven minutes, then,” Redko said. “Start the clock. And if you ever need anything — anything at all — don’t hesitate to ask.”

    “I will,” Chomps assured him. “And rest assured that I will collect. You can count on it.”