laughed.
“This way,” Brock announced, and led the march across the hangar to a waiting staff car, with Kat and Scott trailing the others.
“I suppose it was inevitable really,” Kat said to Scott. “This whole deal is so screwed up, it was the only logical course of action.”
“Admiral of the Fleet?” Scott muttered. “I’d hoped they’d pick someone else and give me a chance to get my feet wet.”
“Who on earth, literally, is there except you?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow.
“Well, I don’t know, but you’d think his nibs over there would have wanted it.” Even before he finished saying it, Kat was shaking her head.
“The First Sea Lord is a saltwater sailor. He’d be the first to tell you he knows next to nothing about running a space fleet, nor has any combat experience to boot.”
“So what makes him think I do?”
“Ask him!” It was a logical suggestion. Scott waited until the meal was served, tucking away a good-sized meal before he did, which made him feel a hundred percent better. After several more cups of coffee, he broached the question.
“Why did we pick you?” the First Sea Lord replied.
“Yes, sir.”
“Drop the ‘sir,’ we don’t need all that nonsense between us. My first name is Anthony, and inevitably, it ends up as Tony. However, to answer your question, it wasn’t just me. The question came up at a meeting six months ago between Colonel Brock, myself, the PM, the representative from Japan, and believe it or not, the President of the World Council, President Westwood. It was concluded that you were the only logical choice, and the only one with the combat experience to hold the rank.”
“That doesn’t make sense, you should have taken the position,” Scott said, but Tony shook his head, looking sad.
“I have no experience of combat whatsoever, and neither do any of my colleagues. Ours is all theoretical.” That was true, Scott silently agreed. “Colonel Brock has his hands full with putting together an army. Lieutenant Colonel Pete Mitchell has the headache of organizing the logistics and running your intel division, Major Jeff Turner is working his ass off getting the ships built, so he’s out.”
“What about …” Scott stopped and looked over at Pete. They were right. Pete didn’t have the experience, and neither did any of the other recently promoted officers he could think of.
“The decision wasn’t made in haste, and the PM was concerned that you might not do well at the academy.” That brought a smile around the table. “As it turned out, you were top of your class, far exceeding any of ours, and the instructors’, expectations. You have an instinctive grasp of military strategy, both in two dimensions, and three, and that’s the key to all this.”
“I don’t know any more about running a bloody space fleet than the man in the moon, I’m a ground pounder, a tank man.”
“They don’t know any more than you,” Pete shot back. Scott had forgotten there were men on the moon now.
“You have the experience of running large combined-arms forces, and you were the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, so in many ways there is little difference. It’s all a matter of using the forces, manpower, and equipment under your command to their fullest potential.”
Put like that, there wasn’t a lot of difference, Scott realized. If you took out the space part, you were left with organizing air, ground, and naval forces to take on an enemy. Put aside the fact he’d almost be doing it from scratch, it was doable.
Tony continued. “Every day, more and more men and woman pour in, and we’re training them as fast as we can. You’ll get the best of the best under your direct command to do the everyday running of the ship. Remember, as the admiral of the fleet, you are not the ship’s captain. He runs the ship, you tell all the captains what to do, and how you want
“This way,” Brock announced, and led the march across the hangar to a waiting staff car, with Kat and Scott trailing the others.
“I suppose it was inevitable really,” Kat said to Scott. “This whole deal is so screwed up, it was the only logical course of action.”
“Admiral of the Fleet?” Scott muttered. “I’d hoped they’d pick someone else and give me a chance to get my feet wet.”
“Who on earth, literally, is there except you?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow.
“Well, I don’t know, but you’d think his nibs over there would have wanted it.” Even before he finished saying it, Kat was shaking her head.
“The First Sea Lord is a saltwater sailor. He’d be the first to tell you he knows next to nothing about running a space fleet, nor has any combat experience to boot.”
“So what makes him think I do?”
“Ask him!” It was a logical suggestion. Scott waited until the meal was served, tucking away a good-sized meal before he did, which made him feel a hundred percent better. After several more cups of coffee, he broached the question.
“Why did we pick you?” the First Sea Lord replied.
“Yes, sir.”
“Drop the ‘sir,’ we don’t need all that nonsense between us. My first name is Anthony, and inevitably, it ends up as Tony. However, to answer your question, it wasn’t just me. The question came up at a meeting six months ago between Colonel Brock, myself, the PM, the representative from Japan, and believe it or not, the President of the World Council, President Westwood. It was concluded that you were the only logical choice, and the only one with the combat experience to hold the rank.”
“That doesn’t make sense, you should have taken the position,” Scott said, but Tony shook his head, looking sad.
“I have no experience of combat whatsoever, and neither do any of my colleagues. Ours is all theoretical.” That was true, Scott silently agreed. “Colonel Brock has his hands full with putting together an army. Lieutenant Colonel Pete Mitchell has the headache of organizing the logistics and running your intel division, Major Jeff Turner is working his ass off getting the ships built, so he’s out.”
“What about …” Scott stopped and looked over at Pete. They were right. Pete didn’t have the experience, and neither did any of the other recently promoted officers he could think of.
“The decision wasn’t made in haste, and the PM was concerned that you might not do well at the academy.” That brought a smile around the table. “As it turned out, you were top of your class, far exceeding any of ours, and the instructors’, expectations. You have an instinctive grasp of military strategy, both in two dimensions, and three, and that’s the key to all this.”
“I don’t know any more about running a bloody space fleet than the man in the moon, I’m a ground pounder, a tank man.”
“They don’t know any more than you,” Pete shot back. Scott had forgotten there were men on the moon now.
“You have the experience of running large combined-arms forces, and you were the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, so in many ways there is little difference. It’s all a matter of using the forces, manpower, and equipment under your command to their fullest potential.”
Put like that, there wasn’t a lot of difference, Scott realized. If you took out the space part, you were left with organizing air, ground, and naval forces to take on an enemy. Put aside the fact he’d almost be doing it from scratch, it was doable.
Tony continued. “Every day, more and more men and woman pour in, and we’re training them as fast as we can. You’ll get the best of the best under your direct command to do the everyday running of the ship. Remember, as the admiral of the fleet, you are not the ship’s captain. He runs the ship, you tell all the captains what to do, and how you want
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