Three days later. October 9th, 2265. 06:30 CNS Waukesha – Captain’s Ready Room
John was taking a moment to unwind as he stared out his viewport and watched the weird and out-of-this-universe view. His shift began over two hours ago, and he had spent virtually the entire amount of time in his office going through paperwork. The most difficult work was sending out death notifications to the First Fleet command.
His focus was brought back into focus when his door chime rang. John spun his chair around and looked at his desk. He reached over and pressed the button to open his door. A moment later and Damian walked in.
“You look like hell,” John smirked.
Damian looked at his captain and shook his head slightly, “I’ve tried to get quality shut-eye, but I feel like I am still hopped up on adrenaline.”
“What’s on your mind?”
Damian took a seat and sighed, “Brady filed an official grievance regarding your order to stand down.”
“I presumed he’d do that sooner or later. Since you are mentioning that, may I also presume you read the official response?”
“Admiral Dufresne’s response was one of conflict. He was disappointed with Brady for not following orders. He understood the desire to take down the ship. It wasn’t a great look with your order for warning shots to be fired on a friendly vessel.”
“And yet it was necessary to prevent a fucking slaughter,” John sighed loudly.
“He made it abundantly clear that your tactical call was absolutely correct. Both destroyers that were with the Lagos were effectively out of ammo. The frigates were very nearly out too.”
“Did you read my report on the Icarus?”
“I did, sir,” Damian shook his head, “Hard to imagine taking an ancient ship and upgrading it to basically make it a technical equal to a modern battleship.”
“I think our task force could take it out. It’d be a damn bloody fight, but it’s possible. But that’s with everyone, with full shields, and properly armed,” John rubbed his eyes, “And we still lose a third of our ships that way.
“That was an interesting read. I found it fascinating that the rail turrets were a seventy-five-year-old civilian design,” Damian gestured with his hands, “Ok, heavily modified, but it still came from civies.”
“Two rings of six quad-rail turrets placed immediately before and after where the spinning modules used to be. It’s an ingenious design and modification of the original work. What I don’t understand is how they made her so God damn fast,” John shrugged.
“While I can’t say that I like the agreement you made, I understand why you did what you did,” Damian said leaning back in his chair, “Parts of what you did I fully agree with what you did.”
“You didn’t ask me why I didn’t just force those ships to comply?”
“That’s what I would’ve done.”
John nodded, “How do you think the after-action report would look on Lieutenant Cohen in that scenario?”
Damian paused to think before cocking his and looking at John, “You risked your reputation to save his? Why?”
John laughed, “Not like there’s much reputation to save. I hope that on this flight home, he has time to think about the other things I could’ve done. By the way, I was very clear that the decision to send warning shots was mine, and mine alone. For obvious reasons I wasn’t willing to loop y’all into that.”
“Much appreciated. So, what’s next for us?”
“Well, I’m going to wager these ships are going to be in space dock for three to six months, at least. The crew is due for a three-week shore leave if I read our orders correctly.”
“Some time off is looking to be great. That was an interesting deployment we had.”
John nodded, “Damn productive too.”
“I’m surprised my transfer orders hadn’t come in. I was told that there’d be a seat ready for me after this deployment.”
John grimaced. Damian noticed the reaction and leaned in.
“What do you know, sir?”
“I was not meant to be the bearer of bad news. But it seems it falls to me to let you know that the captain’s seat that was being held for you was given to someone else because the ship came out of the space dock a month ahead of schedule.”
“I lost my captaincy because of timing?”
“Oh, it gets worse. First Fleet can’t guarantee you that seat for four, maybe up to six, deployments. We’re not getting any replacement ships and according to the last fleet roster there are no captains ready to move to a different ship class,” John sighed, “Which is frankly grossly unfair to you.”
Damian couldn’t hide the dejection in his body language. His shoulders sagged. The floor was the sight of his gaze. He could scarcely believe what he was hearing.
“I… Wow, that’s…”
John couldn’t help but feel terrible for his first officer, “Well, on the topic of my reputation. I did some searching on your behalf. I found a couple of open seats, but one’s on a frigate in the Eighth Fleet. Fifth Fleet also has a couple of cruiser seats open.”
“I don’t want to sound like an entitled asshole but…”
John chuckled quietly, “The frigate captaincy is, to be completely frank with you, a downgrade. The cruisers on the other hand aren’t bad.”
“But the issue is that the Fifth Fleet is in charge of space far outside the inner ring.”
John nodded, “It is. Which means you’d have to move to Aquillon Prime. Not a bad world, but it’s in bumfuck nowhere and a rural nightmare compared to Manchester, Alpha Centauri, and so on. Look, you say the word and I’ll try to reach some of my contacts in Second or Third Fleets.”
“Why don’t you let me sleep on that info, sir.”
“Head by sickbay after chow, they can help with that adrenalin issue. Get some good rest tonight, you deserve that after that dick punch I just gave you.”
Damian stood up and walked to the door. He paused before opening it and looked back at John. He waited a moment to formulate the words to the question he was trying to ask.
“What are the chances of riding this out? Or getting back into First if I take a captaincy elsewhere?”
“Well pure happenstance is why you got fucked out of a seat. I wouldn’t be surprised if a seat opened up in the next two years. How long do you want to hold out hope for that?” John paused as he looked at his first officer, “Look, you are a damn good officer that knows this ship. It would behoove me to keep you in your position. I can’t really recommend that though.”
“But if I leave First Fleet the chances of getting back in have to be…”
“Pitifully low. So, you gotta ask yourself, is the seat worth more to you than status? Because if the status is what you want, stay put. If you prioritize being a captain as soon as possible, then…”
“Thank you, sir. I’ll let you know what I decide by the time you relieve me tomorrow.”
John nodded.
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
12:15 CNS Waukesha – Captain’s Quarters
John committed a major offense onboard the ship. He had swung by the officer’s mess and picked up a massive plate of food and brought it back to his quarters. It was unlikely he’d get any shut-eye during his scheduled rest period. He was determined to find a good captaincy for his first officer.
As he ate, he contacted Vice-Admiral Paul Jurgens of Second Fleet. Admiral Jurgens was in charge of managing the fleet’s captains and vacancies. Unfortunately, he was on a scheduled PTO for an unknown, to John at least, reason. But not being able to track the Admiral down through official processes had never stopped John before.
Five minutes later he was contacting the Admiral via his private line. The terminal began dialing out to the line. John took a couple of bites of food before it switched from dialing to connecting.
“Admiral Jurgens, I am Lieutenant John Lief of the First Fleet. First off, apologies for contacting you out of the blue, but I’d like to discuss something with you if you’d allow it.”
Admiral Jurgens answered quickly and sounded grumpy, “It is my daughter’s wedding.”
John quickly searched for next of kin. He then checked Admiral Jurgens's daughter's social media accounts to confirm the information. Thankfully the admiral was embellishing his statement.
“Well, the way I understand things, sir, is that you’re on PTO for your daughter’s wedding. But the wedding itself is in thirteen days.”
Admiral Jurgens grinned and spoke, “You are both as resourceful and determined as Tim explained to me. Very well Lieutenant, what would you have of me?”
“Thank you, sir. I’m wondering if you have any vacancies in your captaincy,” John paused a moment and quickly clarified his statement, “Not for me, mind you, but for my first officer.”
“Explain please.”
“My first officer, Lieutenant Damian Oliver was scheduled to be made a captain of a cruiser in First Fleet. But as we had a slim timetable the higher-ups wanted our task force to go out and do its pirate thing.”
Admiral Jurgens interrupted John, “Solid work on that by the way.”
“Thank you, sir, but to be fair the crew and squadron as a whole deserve the lion’s share of the credit. Getting back to my first officer, our mission was extended twice. The ship he was assigned to be captain of finished her refit ahead of schedule. It was then decided they needed that ship moved to active duty immediately.”
“Thus, your first officer is out of the running for the big seat. For how long for?”
“Well, you likely know this, but First Fleet isn’t scheduled to receive any new ships for at least twenty-four months, though that number could increase by a few quarters. There are no outstanding vacancies, and the rotation seems to have him on the outside looking in.”
“Why are you doing this?” Admiral Jurgens asked the probing question bluntly.
“As much as it will hurt me, and this ship due to his expertise in everything the Waukesha can do, he deserves a shot as a captain. I told him I’d try to use whatever influence I have to find him a slot. I did find a couple of vacancies in the outer fleets but as you well know, those can be career-enders if you're not going there to captain a capital ship. He told me he’d think about things, but I’d rather just do the work and give him the opportunity to make his career choice on his own.”
“Understood. Well, you are in luck, we will have some vacancies in six months’ time when we’re getting a fresh delivery of ships,” Admiral Jurgens paused to take a drink, “He’d fit right in with our command. The drawback is the best I can give him is a heavy frigate. We aren’t taking any cruisers for nearly a year.”
“I don’t suppose he could take the frigate and be penciled in for a cruiser?” John grinned as he took another bite of food.
“I can guarantee him a seat in a frigate. His performance will dictate whether or not he gets a cruiser.”
“Thank you very much, sir. I meet with him in about twelveish hours. Do you want me to reach out back to you or someone else on this matter?”
“Send me a message one way or the other,” Admiral Jurgens paused then asked another question, “By the way, why did you fire a warning shot on your own ships?”
“I felt it was the best option at the time.”
Admiral Jurgens nodded, “Expand upon that.”
“Sir, as you know the commanding officer in charge of a task force has the ability to override her fellow ships and shut them down in the event the captain or crew of said vessel ignores an order or goes rogue.”
“I do. It’s infrequently used.”
“Correct, it’s been used twelve times in the past twenty years. Each time the junior captain of the task force, wing, or fleet that had her ship's control removed from them has been stripped of their command and never received one afterward. In every single case, there was ample evidence to prove they were at gross fault of disobeying orders.”
“You were protecting your squad mate's careers?”
“And lives, attacking the Icarus would’ve resulted in the deaths of all Confederate ships present.”
Admiral Jurgens nodded in agreement, “Wise decision, I agree with everything you did. That was a decision wise beyond your years. Perhaps you do know the game better than they say you do. Let me know one way or the other on your first officer.”
“Thank you very much. Enjoy the wedding festivities, sir,” John saluted quickly and ended the communication.
John finished his meal and sat in quiet contemplation. The offer that Admiral Jurgens was a fair one, one that he would jump at himself. But a frigate posting wasn’t the most glamourous pick. Could he do better?
Possibly, but what are the options available? Fourth Fleet and beyond are in charge of the outer rim or expansion zone. The worlds that are under their protection are less developed. If you enjoy frontier life they’d be a great place to be based. But if you like the finer things in life, John especially did, that meant a posting in the first three fleets.
“Fuck, well…” John paused as he entered a name to contact, “Here goes nothing.”
The screen’s borders began to flash green as the computer tried to create a connection with John’s recipient. The name and contact details were displayed in the center of the screen. He couldn’t believe he was ringing this specific Admiral. Though it was an open question whether the admiral would even answer. John did review their schedule and it appeared they were both on duty and free at the moment.
The screen continued to flash gently as time went on. John refused to end the communication request and let it sit on the connecting screen. One minute passed. Then another. And another. Eight minutes of dialing and waiting later the request was finally accepted.
“You are a persistent little fucker, aren’t you?” Third Fleet Uriel Petrov said icily.
John nodded, “Sir, I believe that’s been common knowledge for several years.”
“To what do I owe this displeasure? I am a busy man.”
“I am aware. To be frank, I would’ve preferred to speak directly with the Vice Admiral in your fleet that manages the captaincies, but it appears they retired and that’s fallen to you in the interim.”
“The answer is no. I am not accepting you into my fleet.”
“Apologies for not being clearer. It is not for me, but even if it were, I would still have the gall to ask you.”
“The answer is still no,” Admiral Petrov reached toward his screen.
“If you’d humor me a moment later, I’m sending you the file for my first officer.”
Urial pulled his hand back and nodded. The file was then transferred to the Admiral. Moments later he had it and was reviewing the information contained in the file.
“Why are you doing this?”
“My first officer was promised a captaincy. Then that special operation last year blew up in everyone’s faces and it required giving me a ship. His ship. He was promised another ship after a single deployment. But then we were extended. And then extended again.”
“I see. The ship finished its refit and was sent out ahead of schedule. And now he’s looking at waiting for two to three more years before a seat.”
“By then he’ll be a lieutenant commander with a dead career as he wouldn’t have any real command experience,” John said, “First Fleet’s bureaucratic fail could be a boon to you.”
“Were I you, I’d stop with the attempts to butter me up. This conversation is already revolting enough,” Admiral Petrov continued to review Damian’s personnel file.
“It’s the truth. First Fleet would lose one of its shining stars because it was unwilling to make a seat available for them. Now I’ve reached out to other fleets to see what, if anything, can be done. There are immediate vacancies in the Fifth and Eighth fleets. I needn’t tell you that neither of those is appealing to me, much less my first officer. Second Fleet also has an opening.”
Admiral Petrov drummed his desk in a rhythmic pattern. He continued to stare at the file, not entirely sure what to make of the call. After an uncomfortable amount of silence, he spoke once more.
“Why are you asking me, of all people, for help? You know I’d say no to you.”
“I am keenly aware of that, sir. In fact, I had expected that answer. But I ask because it’s the right thing to do for my first officer. He’s the recipient of the short end of the stick through no actual fault of his own. It behooves me to utilize all my resources in giving him options for his future.”
“Your superiors aren’t going to like this.”
“No, I don’t suppose they will. Nevertheless, this is a hill worth dying on, thus I must move forward with giving Damian any and all options available to him.”
“If I accept, I get a twofer. Third Fleet receives an exceptionably capable young officer. And you get mud on your face for giving him up to another fleet,” Admiral Petrov flashed a wicked smile, “Very well, we are receiving thirty-two new cruisers, ranging from heavy cruisers to interdictors to e-warfare variants in the coming months. I presume you have a recommendation for me?”
“I believe his file would confirm his preference for a heavy cruiser. Ultimately that is a decision for you to make, though with his experience I’d suggest a cruiser variant of some sort. I’d be happy to relay what is available to him.”
“What makes you think he’d accept what I have to offer?” Admiral Petrov looked straight at John.
“Because given his options, what you have to offer him appears to be the best play. Irrespective of whether he gets a Scottsdale, Tulsa, or Phoenix class ship. And it’s what I’d choose as well, though the Second Fleet option is awfully tempting from a challenge standpoint for me personally.”
“I’ll save a Scottsdale for him, but I want an answer in twenty-four hours,” Admiral Petrov said.
“Thank you, sir. He’s getting some well-deserved shut eye at the moment, but I’ll speak to him before he goes back on shift in six or so hours,” John paused a moment, “I appreciate your willingness to consider this considering our history.”
“I’m doing this because First Fleet is losing a great officer and you are getting mud on your face. I am not doing this for altruistic reasons. Furthermore, if he doesn’t accept my offer, you can damn well bet that you and I will never have one of these conversations again.”
Admiral Petrov then abruptly ended the call. John smiled; he found the best alternative. Now it was just a matter of time to present to Damian. Then a bit longer than that to get muddied by his superiors when giving them the likely bad news.