Christopher Nuttall - Barbarians at the Gates

He smiled. A useful life lesson from Blake Raistlin. Who would have thought it?

“You get to choose,” Admiral Drake said. “Whatever your choice, I will endorse it.”

“Thank you, sir,” Roman said. He was tempted to ask for advice, but suspected that it might be a test, not unlike some of the tests the cadets had undergone at the Luna Academy. “When do you need my decision?”

“As soon as possible,” Admiral Drake said. “The fleet really doesn’t have time to waste. Enterprise and a small escort will have to take our casualties back to the Core Worlds, along with my report on this battle. It might stop unreasoning panic and start more grounded panic.”

He smiled at his weak joke. “But I can give you an hour or two. After that, I will have to assign you myself.”

Roman considered it. He had to admit that he’d enjoyed command, once he’d gotten over the blind panic and crushing sense of responsibility. And he liked to think he’d done well for the Enterprise , besides saving her from total destruction. Losing command of her hurt, even though he’d expected it. Being a tactical officer would be exciting, but it was still a small fish in a big pond. An XO, even of a destroyer, had far more responsibility.

“I’ll take the Donna Noble ,” he said finally.

“I thought you would,” Admiral Drake said. He picked a chip off the desk and passed it to Roman. “Your promotion and official orders. Return to the Enterprise , enjoy command for the last time by ordering the stewards to pack your supplies, and then take a few days of leave on Maskirovka. I’m going to be rotating as many crew as I can through the shore leave facilities so they all get a chance for a rest.”

He shrugged. “You can report to the Donna Noble after that. Be sure to enjoy your leave, as it will be the last chance for quite a long time.”

“Yes, sir,” Roman said.

“And please accept my congratulations as well,” Admiral Drake said. “I expect to hear a great deal more about you in the future.”

Roman stood to attention, saluted, and turned to leave through the hatch. If he had to lose Enterprise , serving as an XO on a destroyer would more than make up for it. And his name would be entered in Enterprise’s Captain’s List. He shook his head and headed towards the shuttlebay. Once he was back on Enterprise , he would ensure that his successor received a ship in as near to perfect condition as humanly possible before he went on leave.

“Was I ever that young?”

Vaughn did him the honor of considering the question seriously. “I don’t think you were born wearing an admiral’s uniform and a silly hat,” he said after a long pause. “You were a young officer when we first met, a young man who’d earned a First and thought he knew everything.”

Marius snorted. He’d arranged for Vaughn to watch the brief interview, trusting the Marine’s sense of character to compensate for his own willingness to believe the best of someone with an excellent combat record. And Roman Garibaldi had accepted his semi-demotion calmly, without becoming upset or angry. Marius had demoted officers before for incompetence and some of them had lost their tempers completely.

“I was a young fool,” he agreed. “I take it you like him, then?”

“From what I know of him,” Vaughn said. “Major Shaklee spoke highly of him, as did a handful of his subordinates. He definitely shows promise.”

“More than shows it,” Marius pointed out. “He killed four battlecruisers and took the only prisoners that we got out of the whole war, at least until they came through the Asimov Point and tried to take us out.”

The thought made him grimace. The attacking starships had all been destroyed, but a handful of starfighter pilots had surrendered once they realized they’d been abandoned. Their interrogations had been brief; the pilots knew little beyond their own roles in the battle, certainly nothing about Admiral Justinian’s overall strategy. He’d hoped to learn about why they’d thrown themselves in with the rogue admiral, but they hadn’t been forthcoming. ONI would have to use drugs or direct brain implantation to learn their secrets, and that didn’t seem too likely under the circumstances.

“You’re the admiral,” Vaughn reminded him. “If you have doubts about him, act on them; if not…”

“Shit or get off the pot?” Marius guessed.

“Exactly,” agreed Vaughn.

Marius shook his head, studying the display. “I’m giving the Enterprise to Captain Fowler. He’ll be delighted to get out of the line of fire and he can certainly command her long enough to take her back to Earth…”

He snorted. Captain Fowler had somehow been promoted time and time again, mainly for looking like a 3D star, but it hadn’t taken long for Marius to realize that the man had a soft, panicky interior. Fowler had never seen action before, at least not against an equal or superior force, and he’d come close to losing it completely during the Battle of Jefferson. Only the threat of being relieved of command from Commodore Sheridan had kept Fowler and his ship in line. If Fowler had fled, his ship would have been isolated and exposed to enemy fire. Her rapid destruction would have been a certainty.

Perhaps that, too, had kept Captain Fowler in formation.

“He won’t hesitate to stab you in the back,” Vaughn warned. “He’ll whine to the Senate and his backers about how you mistreated him and threatened him with death or worse.”

“Fuck him,” Marius said tartly. “He’s stupid enough to think that command of Enterprise is a reward, even now. He can take the carrier back home, along with my report on his fitness—and Commodore Sheridan’s report. We’ll see what the Admiralty makes of that.”

“Make sure they’re in an unbreakable code,” Vaughn warned. “I’d bet you dinner at the Hotel Splendid that he’ll read them as soon as he’s out of reach, otherwise.”

Marius nodded, then ran his hand through his hair. Legally, he could have relieved Fowler of command and sent him back on a civilian ship to face a court martial, but that would have opened him to attacks from the captain’s backers and family. Sending him back on the Enterprise would reduce the number of attacks, at least until the Admiralty had a chance to decide if he should face a court martial or simply be transferred to an isolated mining station in the middle of nowhere. The Federation Navy had plenty of places to promote incompetent officers into command positions where they could do no harm.

“On a different note, the Governor of Maskirovka requested that you assign a pair of Marine Regiments to support the Planetary Guard,” Vaughn said.

Marius frowned in surprise. The request was probably working its way through his inbox somewhere, but he hadn’t seen it yet. Vaughn would have been copied into any requests for Marine support.

“He didn’t say why,” Vaughn went on, “but Maskirovka does have an intelligent race. Perhaps they’re causing trouble for the settlers.”

“Or perhaps the settlers are thinking about causing trouble themselves,” Marius said. He’d been on the Rim too long to share the unthinking prejudice against aliens held by most of the human race, but when push came to shove it was humanity first, last, and always. “How long has it been since the Inheritance Wars? Long enough for us to forget the carnage?”

“Boskone wasn’t involved in the wars,” Vaughn pointed out. “The chances are good that the governor is just as deeply corrupt as any other politician. His subjects may feel that they have nothing to lose through rebellion, and the settlers may feel like throwing their lot in with Admiral Justinian. How can it get any worse for them?”