Black Fleet Trilogy 1: Warship Read Free

there. It seemed Bla—Seventh Fleet was the only logical choice. Sir.”
    “You can say it, Commander,” Jackson said with a humorless chuckle. “Black Fleet wasn’t always a pejorative term. I’m assuming you know the full history of the Terran Confederate Starfleet?”
    “Of course, sir,” she said.
    “Indulge me.”
    “When the Republic was first reorganized as the Terran Confederacy it still fielded a fleet that was based entirely out of Haven,” she began, looking slightly annoyed at being made to recite ancient history she’d learned before even applying to the Academy. “The fleet was originally divided into taskforces, but it became too large to realistically manage and was then divided into numbered fleets similar to what we have today. Some decades later the logistics of supporting all the fleets while they served all the individual Terran enclaves became too much and they were formally assigned to their patrol areas permanently and the responsibility for maintaining each fleet fell to each enclave rather than the Confederacy.”
    “A fairly straightforward answer I would expect on a first year cadet’s entrance exam,” Jackson said, watching Commander Wright bristle. “You failed to mention that the Seventh Fleet stayed assigned to Haven and was tasked with patrolling the deep space lanes between all the human worlds, often being sent on cruises longer than a year, isolated and cut-off. The nickname Black Fleet came about because of those deep space missions, not for what it’s become. It used to be a name that the spacers of Seventh Fleet wore with pride.”
    “Sir, I didn’t mean to imply that Black Fleet was an undesirable assignment,” Commander Wright said, suddenly understanding what her mistake had been.
    “I am not stupid, Commander,” Jackson said, perhaps more harshly than he intended. “For the last thirty years Black Fleet has been where CENTCOM has allowed the other fleets to dump their discipline problems and otherwise undesirable officers and enlisted spacers until their contracts run out. Even the fleet itself isn’t exactly on the leading edge. Take this ship, for example. This destroyer was state of the art … forty-five years ago. While we’re here on Jericho trying to patch new sensors into a forty-year-old MUX, New America is getting ready to deploy a destroyer into the Fourth Fleet that is faster, better armed, and better armored than the single remaining Black Fleet battleship.”
    “Sir,” Celesta began slowly, “I’m not sure I understand where you’re going with this.”
    “My point is this, Commander,” Jackson said. “While I appreciate ambition and I respect drive, do not think that Black Fleet is a place where you will walk in and step on the heads of all the scrubs on your way to commanding your own ship. I expect you to perform the job of Executive Officer to the best of your ability. I expect you to carry out your duty without the distraction of you looking for the opportunity to leapfrog into a ship of your own. Am I clear?”
    “Crystal clear, sir,” she said stiffly. “If I may be so bold, sir, isn’t just such a scenario how you came to be in command of this ship?”
    “I am well aware of the rumors regarding my promotion, Commander,” Jackson said, his face flushing as he fought to control the momentary flash of anger. “Whatever did, or did not, happen during that mission does not change the current situation. I can only imagine the things that are said of the uppity Earther who lucked into command of a worn-out destroyer in a squadron that eats officers and craps out dead careers. To be honest, I couldn’t care less. I hope for your sake that you haven’t taken an assignment on this ship because you think that my chair is up for grabs.”
    “Of course not, sir,” Celesta said quickly, looking as if she regretted her last comment. “I meant no disrespect, sir.”
    “I’m sure you didn’t,” Jackson said calmly. “I would just