Black Fleet Trilogy 1: Warship Read Free Page B

slightly winded Celesta Wright strode onto the bridge. “You needed to see me, Captain?”
    Jackson looked over and noticed that she was still in her dress blacks, and obviously not the same set that she had reported onto the ship in as evident by the razor-sharp creases.
    “Yes,” he said. “We have seven crewmembers who had a little too much fun on their shore leave down on Haven. Local LEOs are escorting them to the gangway now. I want you to meet them there, secure their release, and then review the case files to determine punishment.”
    “You want me to do that, sir?” she asked after a moment of hesitation.
    “Is there some problem, Commander?” Jackson asked, his voice neutral.
    “No, sir. I just assumed you’d have wanted to review the case files yourself as I am unfamiliar with ship’s personnel.”
    “Commander, you are in charge of junior personnel matters, including the enlisted ranks,” Jackson said softly, not wanting to dress his new exec down in front of the crew. “You’ll need to figure out how best to integrate yourself into the crew. Either way, it looks like you’ll be meeting these seven first.”
    “Yes, sir,” she said quietly, but strongly. “Is there anything else, sir?”
    “Just one,” Jackson said. “Uniform of the day is utilities unless otherwise stated. This is still a combat ship despite the fact that there hasn’t been a war in over two hundred and fifty years.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Go get our people,” he said as a dismissal. “Don’t let the locals give you any shit either. Other than apprehension and detention they have no authority over Fleet personnel.”
    He watched her leave the bridge, glad to pawn some of the administrative actions off on her. His former exec had become so chummy with all the crew that it became almost impossible for him to enforce discipline. It fell to Jackson to come down hard on all the department heads to keep their people in line, a move that made him even less popular among the other officers … if that was even possible.
    “Captain,” Ensign Davis said, snapping him out of his reverie.
    “Go ahead, Ensign,” he said.
    “Boarding hatch sentries are telling me there is a group from CENTCOM on their way up,” she said apologetically. “They had all the proper authorization to board the ship.”
    “Very well,” Jackson sighed. He hadn’t even gotten everyone back on the ship and resumed normal watch schedules and some desk jockey from CENTCOM was no doubt on their way up to make some absurd request that would do nothing but slow him down in trying to get the ship through her shakedown and underway. He also had no doubt which admiral’s signature he would find at the bottom of the orders.
    It was twenty minutes later when he heard some discussion at the bridge entrance as the group of visitors negotiated with the Marine posted there. He made no move to get up and ease the process along, still rankling at the delay they would inevitably cause.
    “Captain Wolfe,” a young, fresh-faced lieutenant said, approaching the command chair. “I’m Lieutenant McCord, I’ll be your docking pilot today. My team is ready to go and the tugs will be here within the hour.”
    “Docking pilot?” Jackson said, dumbfounded. “Lieutenant, we are not scheduled to decouple from Jericho Station for another six days.”
    “Change of plan, Captain,” a well-dressed civilian said, walking up behind McCord.
    “And just who the hell are you?” Jackson demanded, feeling control of the situation slipping away from him. The oily smile that had been pasted on the man’s face began to slide at Jackson’s abrupt tone.
    “My name is Aston Lynch,” he said. “I am an aide to Senator Augustus Wellington, Chairmen of Fleet Operations Committee. You will be departing immediately for Tau Ceti, and I will be accompanying you. Here are your orders.” He handed Jackson a sealed hardcopy which the captain grabbed and stuffed into the gap between the