Failure to comply will be met with stern measures. Is that understood?” he demanded.
The junior officers all nodded.
“Fine then. Let us begin.”
Chapter 6
Monty immediately put in for transfer through his implants as he walked to his office. He wasn't sure what was available. One thing, he wasn't going to take a demotion. He also didn't want to serve under Subert. He wasn't too keen about serving ship duty; he had no experience in such things at all. That was a problem. Were they going to put him on a base somewhere and have him play catch up? Teach classes in intelligence? He frowned thoughtfully. Those who could, did. Those who couldn't, taught, he thought with a dyspeptic scowl. He shook his head.
He got a ping through his implants, new mail. “Well, well …,” he frowned as he opened it. It was a quick form letter he realized as he read the file. They had received his request for transfer. He nodded.
Limbo he thought, he was in limbo waiting for the other shoe to drop. He numbly packed up his office, wondering where he was going to go. He'd had no warning, none at all that it had been coming. Nor any word on where he was supposed to go, most likely because the admiral hadn't wanted him to find out ahead of time. Some intel spook he turned out to be! He snorted at himself.
He delved into the thumbnail bios of the new sleepers. Saul Garretaj had little there, a staff weenie. The jig medic Taylor … he shook his head. A dozen officers and enlisted had come with the Admiral to Pyrax but only one really mattered. He turned his attention to Subert.
He should have done his homework beforehand. They'd gotten the bios of all the sleepers when the deployment orders had been cut. He had to some degree, but he'd been distracted with the flood of intelligence that the ansible had presented. Sorting it out … he shook his head. It was an excuse; he knew it.
He scanned the records and found out Admiral Phil Subert had a brief stint in intel as a lieutenant. He nodded. So he knew a bit about what he was saying. That took some of the sting out but rubbed a little salt in other wounds.
Who was going to take over from Harris? Teague was going to have her hands full with Intel … and BUPERS … he shook his head. Not his problem anymore. Not anymore he thought.
Finally Monty found out he had had been transferred to Agnosta and then to Antigua for reassignment since the local BUPERS was not sure about what to do with him. That bothered him. He didn't like the idea of being kicked around, spending months in transit only to get passed on to somewhere else like some sort of leper.
“What the hell do I do now?” he murmured. He shook his head and checked the departures. He had to hustle to get to his quarters, pack his gear, and then get to the tender heading back to Agnosta. The admiral's many orders had put the tender crew on a quick turnaround. That probably wasn't going over too well with those who had planned a leave with friends and family or bar mates, but oh well. He shook his head and headed for his quarters.
---<>---<>---
Commander Harris fumed as he returned to his ship. Damocles was all he had left now. He blamed Irons for this. For saddling him with … he shook his head. He knew the regs, knew technically Subert was in the right, but to be fired like that! So cold, and it would go on his record too! He'd done nothing wrong. He'd stepped up as duty required, and yet … he scowled blackly.
“Something wrong, sir?”
“Just life,” the commander said, shaking his head. He turned to the ensign. “What's on your mind, Sh'lna?” he asked.
“I was going over the latest tactical exercise. I'm having trouble with it though. I'm not sure what I'm doing wrong.”
“And you are coming to me about it?”
“Not in the way you mean, sir. I think we've been hacked,” the Veraxin said carefully.
“Hacked?” the commander asked, taking the tablet. His frown deepened as he checked the file.
The junior officers all nodded.
“Fine then. Let us begin.”
Chapter 6
Monty immediately put in for transfer through his implants as he walked to his office. He wasn't sure what was available. One thing, he wasn't going to take a demotion. He also didn't want to serve under Subert. He wasn't too keen about serving ship duty; he had no experience in such things at all. That was a problem. Were they going to put him on a base somewhere and have him play catch up? Teach classes in intelligence? He frowned thoughtfully. Those who could, did. Those who couldn't, taught, he thought with a dyspeptic scowl. He shook his head.
He got a ping through his implants, new mail. “Well, well …,” he frowned as he opened it. It was a quick form letter he realized as he read the file. They had received his request for transfer. He nodded.
Limbo he thought, he was in limbo waiting for the other shoe to drop. He numbly packed up his office, wondering where he was going to go. He'd had no warning, none at all that it had been coming. Nor any word on where he was supposed to go, most likely because the admiral hadn't wanted him to find out ahead of time. Some intel spook he turned out to be! He snorted at himself.
He delved into the thumbnail bios of the new sleepers. Saul Garretaj had little there, a staff weenie. The jig medic Taylor … he shook his head. A dozen officers and enlisted had come with the Admiral to Pyrax but only one really mattered. He turned his attention to Subert.
He should have done his homework beforehand. They'd gotten the bios of all the sleepers when the deployment orders had been cut. He had to some degree, but he'd been distracted with the flood of intelligence that the ansible had presented. Sorting it out … he shook his head. It was an excuse; he knew it.
He scanned the records and found out Admiral Phil Subert had a brief stint in intel as a lieutenant. He nodded. So he knew a bit about what he was saying. That took some of the sting out but rubbed a little salt in other wounds.
Who was going to take over from Harris? Teague was going to have her hands full with Intel … and BUPERS … he shook his head. Not his problem anymore. Not anymore he thought.
Finally Monty found out he had had been transferred to Agnosta and then to Antigua for reassignment since the local BUPERS was not sure about what to do with him. That bothered him. He didn't like the idea of being kicked around, spending months in transit only to get passed on to somewhere else like some sort of leper.
“What the hell do I do now?” he murmured. He shook his head and checked the departures. He had to hustle to get to his quarters, pack his gear, and then get to the tender heading back to Agnosta. The admiral's many orders had put the tender crew on a quick turnaround. That probably wasn't going over too well with those who had planned a leave with friends and family or bar mates, but oh well. He shook his head and headed for his quarters.
---<>---<>---
Commander Harris fumed as he returned to his ship. Damocles was all he had left now. He blamed Irons for this. For saddling him with … he shook his head. He knew the regs, knew technically Subert was in the right, but to be fired like that! So cold, and it would go on his record too! He'd done nothing wrong. He'd stepped up as duty required, and yet … he scowled blackly.
“Something wrong, sir?”
“Just life,” the commander said, shaking his head. He turned to the ensign. “What's on your mind, Sh'lna?” he asked.
“I was going over the latest tactical exercise. I'm having trouble with it though. I'm not sure what I'm doing wrong.”
“And you are coming to me about it?”
“Not in the way you mean, sir. I think we've been hacked,” the Veraxin said carefully.
“Hacked?” the commander asked, taking the tablet. His frown deepened as he checked the file.
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