New Frontiers (Expansion Wars Trilogy, Book 1) by Joshua Dalzelle Page B
Authors: Joshua Dalzelle
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Celesta had to constantly keep referring to the updated map on her comlink as she walked the corridors of the immense station. New Sierra was quite a bit larger than even Jericho Station had been due to the fact it had been built for heavy construction and large-scale production rather than maintenance and administration. CENTCOM had hastily converted the shipyard to its new headquarters, a move Celesta still didn’t understand. The ability to quickly field new starships seemed far more important than housing the administrative arm of the Fleet. For that matter, why did they even need to be in orbit at all? Housing and headquartering them on the planet’s surface seemed much more practical. She sighed as she walked. The war had taught them many hard lessons, but apparently they still had a long way to go.
She’d been walking down to the docking arm complex to meet the New York when she was docked, but her chirping comlink kept distracting her. It was a repeating text-only message from an unknown address asking that she make her way to crew processing as quickly as possible. All official Fleet communications were specifically formatted so she assumed the messages were either a glitch or something else. Either way, she ignored them. The next anonymous message, however, she couldn’t ignore.
Damnit Wright… you’d have made a shitty intel officer. Get down to crew processing and wait there. I need to speak with you immediately.
She began to have suspicions about who was playing games with the com system, so when she was almost to the arching entry that led to the crew processing section she was surprised when it was Agent Uba who intercepted her.
“You certainly took your time, Captain.” He grabbed her by the elbow and forcefully led her down a side corridor, looking about as he did to see if he was being noticed. He was wearing a Marine uniform that Celesta assumed was meant to allow him to blend in since the Terran Marine Corp was providing security on New Sierra for the time being.
“You promoted yourself to major?” Celesta asked.
“Actually I’m a full colonel, so call it a demotion,” Uba said without a trace of humor. “Majors are not only ubiquitous but are largely ignored or actively avoided. A colonel, on the other hand, is too memorable.”
“What’s this about?” Celesta asked, yanking her arm out of the agent’s hand as they marched down the service corridor.
“Someone needs to speak with you off the record,” Uba said. “Through there.” He was pointing at an unmarked door identical to the other half-dozen or so that dotted the corridor. Celesta, not for a moment thinking she was in any danger, walked up and opened the door, stepping into what looked like a recently vacated equipment closet given the amount of wiring dangling from the overhead tracks.
“You have some aversion to answering your messages?”
“Pike,” Celesta said flatly as way of greeting the impeccably dressed man standing in front of her. “Or is it Lynch?”
“Pike wearing Lynch’s clothes right now,” Pike said. “I understand you’ve just been given command of the New York . I suppose congratulations are in order.”
“I haven’t accepted yet,” Celesta said. “I get the feeling the appointment may be more about politics than my ability to command.”
“Of course it’s about politics,” Pike said. “Any decision about who is commanding a battleship is always political. Marcum wants her current CO gone. Actually, he’d like the moron prosecuted, but he’ll settle for drummed out of the chair in disgrace. The details why aren’t important. He also thinks he can push you through as the replacement, a war hero whom he has a personal working relationship with … the newly formed Parliament wouldn’t even pause to sign off on the posting.”
“Parliament?”
“I think they’ve changed the names of the old institutions just for the sake of change,” Pike shrugged. “If you
Celesta had to constantly keep referring to the updated map on her comlink as she walked the corridors of the immense station. New Sierra was quite a bit larger than even Jericho Station had been due to the fact it had been built for heavy construction and large-scale production rather than maintenance and administration. CENTCOM had hastily converted the shipyard to its new headquarters, a move Celesta still didn’t understand. The ability to quickly field new starships seemed far more important than housing the administrative arm of the Fleet. For that matter, why did they even need to be in orbit at all? Housing and headquartering them on the planet’s surface seemed much more practical. She sighed as she walked. The war had taught them many hard lessons, but apparently they still had a long way to go.
She’d been walking down to the docking arm complex to meet the New York when she was docked, but her chirping comlink kept distracting her. It was a repeating text-only message from an unknown address asking that she make her way to crew processing as quickly as possible. All official Fleet communications were specifically formatted so she assumed the messages were either a glitch or something else. Either way, she ignored them. The next anonymous message, however, she couldn’t ignore.
Damnit Wright… you’d have made a shitty intel officer. Get down to crew processing and wait there. I need to speak with you immediately.
She began to have suspicions about who was playing games with the com system, so when she was almost to the arching entry that led to the crew processing section she was surprised when it was Agent Uba who intercepted her.
“You certainly took your time, Captain.” He grabbed her by the elbow and forcefully led her down a side corridor, looking about as he did to see if he was being noticed. He was wearing a Marine uniform that Celesta assumed was meant to allow him to blend in since the Terran Marine Corp was providing security on New Sierra for the time being.
“You promoted yourself to major?” Celesta asked.
“Actually I’m a full colonel, so call it a demotion,” Uba said without a trace of humor. “Majors are not only ubiquitous but are largely ignored or actively avoided. A colonel, on the other hand, is too memorable.”
“What’s this about?” Celesta asked, yanking her arm out of the agent’s hand as they marched down the service corridor.
“Someone needs to speak with you off the record,” Uba said. “Through there.” He was pointing at an unmarked door identical to the other half-dozen or so that dotted the corridor. Celesta, not for a moment thinking she was in any danger, walked up and opened the door, stepping into what looked like a recently vacated equipment closet given the amount of wiring dangling from the overhead tracks.
“You have some aversion to answering your messages?”
“Pike,” Celesta said flatly as way of greeting the impeccably dressed man standing in front of her. “Or is it Lynch?”
“Pike wearing Lynch’s clothes right now,” Pike said. “I understand you’ve just been given command of the New York . I suppose congratulations are in order.”
“I haven’t accepted yet,” Celesta said. “I get the feeling the appointment may be more about politics than my ability to command.”
“Of course it’s about politics,” Pike said. “Any decision about who is commanding a battleship is always political. Marcum wants her current CO gone. Actually, he’d like the moron prosecuted, but he’ll settle for drummed out of the chair in disgrace. The details why aren’t important. He also thinks he can push you through as the replacement, a war hero whom he has a personal working relationship with … the newly formed Parliament wouldn’t even pause to sign off on the posting.”
“Parliament?”
“I think they’ve changed the names of the old institutions just for the sake of change,” Pike shrugged. “If you
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