John Ringo: Claws That Catch

The ladies, on the other hand, had completely ignored the civilian/military divide. Which had Brooke’s grandmother, who, with only few exceptions had never left the confines of a small West Virginia town, in deep conversation with Mrs. Admiral Townsend, both of whose children had been born outside the contiguous United States, one in Hawaii and one in Japan.

“I’m waiting for someone to ask why we’re all here,” the CAO said.

“You’re looking at the wrong captain, sir,” Weaver replied. “I’ve spent more than half my total career in black operations. I don’t ask questions unless they’re germane.”

“Touché,” Townsend said, chuckling. “I’d forgotten you were in the black community before you got shanghaied.”

“I wouldn’t call it shanghaied, sir,” Weaver replied, shrugging. “I volunteered.”

“I talked to Jim Bennett, who in case you didn’t know it was the guy who greased your skids,” the admiral said, referring to a former Chief of Naval Operations. “He said he knew from the beginning that there wasn’t a Naval officer who was going to be right for the Blade , one who really understood space. One choice was pulling back one of the Navy officers with NASA. But most of them were more expert at near-space, which wasn’t going to get us anywhere. Then there were some officers associated with the Observatory, but they were a bit…”

“Geekish?” Weaver asked.

“Probably the best way to put it,” Townsend admitted. “But the SEAL after-action reports from the Dreen War indicated that you were anything but geekish. Bennett quietly arranged, without either you or Columbia realizing it, to pull you off the project over and over again, figuring you’d get fed up and try another tack. When you volunteered, it fit his plans exactly.”

“So I was manipulated into becoming an officer?” Weaver asked, aghast. “He could have just asked .”

“Probably what I would have done,” Townsend admitted. “But Jim was a bit more Machiavellian than I. Anyway, just thought you should know.”

“Shiny,” Bill said. “Somehow that gives me the courage to ask. Are you all here because Berg is a really nice kid or for some other reason?”

“Oh, Berg is a nice kid,” Townsend admitted. “But the President wanted to come and couldn’t. So he ordered me and the commandant to attend. Spectre was coming, anyway. Everybody else? I think they just assumed if we were attending…”

“It must be mandatory,” Weaver added with a chuckle. “More or less what Chief Miller said, except for the first bit.”

“What the President doesn’t realize is that this could have been a disaster,” the CAO continued. “On many levels. One of them being curiosity. So far the press hasn’t asked why we’re all here. They still may. They’re getting closer and closer to the truth.”

“I saw the article in the Washington Times , sir,” Bill said. The “Inside the Ring” column speculated, based on a number of data items, that the U.S. either had a space drive or was approaching having one. An earlier article had reported from “an anonymous source” that the Dreen had been located in real space and were somewhere near the Orion stars. That had probably come from the destruction of the HD 36951 colony. But with all the money that was going towards planning the Space Navy, the appointment of the CAO, the changes in training for every branch of the Navy… The reality was bound to break sooner or later. “I think the President’s playing a very dangerous game in not releasing the information.”

“He’s the Commander-In-Chief,” the CAO responded. “It’s up to him, not us.”

“Understood, sir,” Bill replied. “Just my opinion as a citizen, not an officer.”

“And one thing to learn as an officer is that that is a very fine line,” the CAO said. “That was not a reaming, just pointing it out. You skipped a bunch of steps in your professional development and that might not have gotten through to you. We may have private political opinions, especially those based on our proprietary knowledge. We may voice them with close friends and peers. But we don’t act on them except in the privacy of the ballot box. Among other things, even when we think we have the knowledge necessary to make a decision, often we’re not privy to everything.”

“Yes, sir,” Bill said, trying not to smile. “And the officers who clearly have too many friends in the press corps?”

“If I find them, I will quietly move them out of any position of proprietary knowledge at all,” the CAO said. “I’d, frankly, prefer to move them to Davy Jones’s Locker, but there is so much paperwork involved in something like that. Diego Garcia will have to do. But so far the details are holding. So far. I should leave.”

“Excuse me, sir?” Bill said.

“Young Bergstresser appears to want to introduce his bride to you,” the CAO said, gesturing with his chin.

The bride and groom were circulating and being congratulated. Weaver had been watching one of the bridesmaids, a particularly pulchritudinous example of womanflesh, and hadn’t noticed Berg and his bride getting closer and closer. As he glanced over, though, he caught a flash of Two-Gun looking their way and it was obvious he was unwilling to approach with the CAO there.

The next time Berg looked up, Weaver caught his eye and gestured with his head for him to come over. Berg’s glance at the CAO was clear so Weaver repeated the gesture.

“Sir, Two-Gun has faced some of the worst monsters in the Galaxy,” Weaver said as the bride and groom approached. “He can face the Chief of Astronautic Operations.”

“Admiral Townsend,” Berg said, nodding formally at the CAO, “may I present my bride, Mrs. Eric Bergstresser.”

“Of course, Lieutenant,” the CAO said, taking Brooke’s hand and bowing to kiss it formally. “Mrs. Bergstresser, you are a vision. It is said that every bride is beautiful but you exceed all expectations.”

“Thank you, sir,” Brooke said, blushing.

“I know that you feel you’ve picked the finest man on earth to marry,” the admiral continued. “And I agree. Sometime, sometime quite soon, you will be finding out just how extraordinary this young man is.”

“Does that mean that his missions won’t be…” Brooke’s forehead furrowed for a moment then she shrugged. “I think the term is ‘black’? Eric won’t really talk about what he does.”

“He can’t,” the CAO said, nodding. “I’m sorry for that but that’s the rule and I’m glad to hear that he’s following it. But, yes, pretty soon the operation will go white. How soon, I’m not at liberty to divulge.”

Weaver’s ears perked up at that. One bit of information that the CAO clearly had, and Bill did not, was that the decision to go white had been made and there was timing on it.

“But when it does, all will become clear,” the admiral continued. “Including what an extraordinary man you’ve married.”

“I already know he’s extraordinary, sir,” Brooke said. “But thank you.”

“Two-Gun,” the admiral said, “you’ve got a week. Use it well.”

“Yes, sir,” the lieutenant said, nodding. “Can I get a hint?”

“We’re becoming archaelogists,” Weaver replied. “I think that’s indirect enough, isn’t it, sir?”

“Just fine,” the CAO said. “Archaeological mission, Lieutenant. Should be routine.”

“Our normal routine, sir?” Berg asked, trying not to grin. “Or ‘routine’ routine?”

“Routine routine,” the CAO answered. “But we never know, do we?”

“No, sir, we don’t,” Eric admitted. “And, Brooke, this is Commander Weaver. I told you about him.”