“Please be seated,” Parkinson said once he had taken his place at the head of the table. “We have a great deal to cover, and very little time.”
Fleet Admiral Parkinson was taller than Marius had expected from his file, although it was quite possible that he’d had his body altered to conform with the latest fashion. His short, dark hair topped a clear face and dark brown eyes, which contrasted oddly with the white dress uniform he wore. Marius hoped that he’d come directly from Earth and hadn’t had time to change. An admiral who attended a meeting of his subordinates in full dress uniform wasn’t a good sign.
Marius had asked Kratman about the Fleet Admiral, as his former CO had known Parkinson once. The Professor had told him that Parkinson was competent, nothing more. Parkinson could follow orders to the letter, but he didn’t have the initiative to take advantage of opportunities as they arose. His career would have stalled out, barring political interference of course, if there had been any justice in the universe.
Marius had spent ten years along the Rim and had been insulated, to some degree, from the political storms of Earth. But because of what Kratman had told him, Marius had taken the time to carry out a thorough study of Earth’s media while waiting for his new commander to take command of the Retribution Force. There seemed to be three separate story lines running through the media. One: Admiral Drake was the hero who saved Earth. Two: Admiral Drake had taken command illegally, preventing Admiral Parkinson from assuming his rightful place. Three: Admiral Drake’s illegal decision to assume command had resulted in Admiral Justinian’s force escaping certain destruction. The reports that upheld the third line had produced hundreds of pretty diagrams that bore no relationship to reality; all professed to prove that Justinian’s fleet could have been intercepted and destroyed, if the proper man had been in command.
It wouldn’t have impressed any halfway competent fleet officer, Marius knew. But civilians wouldn’t know what to believe.
Kratman had been right. Again. Marius tried not to grind his teeth in despair.
Behind Parkinson, Captain Timothy Oriole followed him into the briefing room, even though Enterprise was his ship. At least Oriole was a known factor, a solidly competent man with a splendid record of courage and loyalty. The Federation Navy would hardly have given its flagship to an incompetent, even though Oriole had probably been bored floating in orbit around Titan Base. His dark skin showed no trace of awareness that he was the junior officer in the compartment, although as the admiral’s flag captain—his tactical alter ego—he had more authority than was commonly realized. And besides, he had given up command of a cruiser squadron to command the Enterprise. There could be no questioning his capabilities, or his political contacts. He had the support of some very powerful people.
“It’s good to see you all together for the first time,” Parkinson said. His voice—and face—was stilted and formal. “I believe that we have set records in reactivating starships and personnel from the Naval Reserve in preparation for our departure to Harmony. I know that there have been some…issues—” he gave them all a droll smile, apparently begging for forgiveness, “—but we have managed to overcome them. We shall depart for Harmony within the week.”
Marius kept his face expressionless with some help from his implants. Parkinson was understating the case, for the plans to reactivate and crew the starships stored in the Naval Reserve had floundered, and badly. Home Fleet had a shortage of experienced officers and men to serve as reactivation cadre, and they’d had to raid every command within ten Asimov Points of Earth for manpower. There were hundreds of thousands of crewmen who had never served together before being called to serve in the Retribution Fleet, and there had already been several nasty incidents. Marius was confident that all would all be resolved in time, but it would require a far longer outfitting and working up period than his superiors had accepted. As it was, they were going to have to continue their training exercises while in transit.
“I have been in close communication with the War Cabinet,” Parkinson continued, “and we finally have our mission objectives. They are fairly simple in concept, and I am sure that we will have few problems carrying them out.”
Marius’s eyes narrowed. He’d thought that they already had their mission objectives: track down and destroy Admiral Justinian. He shared a glance with Major General Tobias Vaughn—at least the War Cabinet had confirmed him as the Marine CO for the Retribution Force—and realized that his friend was just as surprised. It wouldn’t be the first time that orders had been changed alarmingly close to the departure date, yet it still was odd. The entire planet wanted the rogue’s blood.
“First, we are to track down and capture—or kill—the treacherous Justinian,” Parkinson said. “Second, we are to secure a number of vital points within the Harmony Sector and prepare to return Federation authority to the region. Third, we are to oversee a purge of Justinian’s supporters and ensure that nothing like this can happen again. These matters will be overseen by the Pacification Units that have been attached to the Fleet Train, once Admiral Justinian’s fleet has been forced to surrender or has been destroyed outright.”
This time, Marius could tell that the more experienced officers in the room didn’t like these orders by the set of their shoulders. Pacification Units had only one mission. They crushed all resistance to the Federation’s will, regardless of who was doing the resisting, or why. Pacification Units had ground any spark of independence out of a hundred alien races and worse, had crushed human rebellion on a dozen worlds. Their deployment was a sign that the Senate wasn’t interested in taking any prisoners. He shared another glance with Vaughn, sharing a single thought. The last time they’d encountered Pacification Units, it had been when their CO had vastly exceeded his orders and ended a rebellion by mass slaughter. It said something about the general attitude towards aliens that his actions had earned him a medal and a promotion, rather than a quick court martial and an even quicker firing squad.
“In order to accomplish our objectives, I have determined the most suitable route for us to take to reach Harmony,” Parkinson continued.
He keyed a switch and a holographic star chart appeared over the table. Asimov Points were linked with beams of white light, showing the places where starships could hop from system to system instantaneously, while suspected enemy positions were marked in red. The information, Marius reminded himself, was over five months out of date.
“We will proceed from Earth through the Gateway and then up the Graveyard Chain,” Parkinson droned on. “We’ll hop across to Sparta from Violet Passion, and then proceed through the Archer’s Chain until we reach Jefferson. We will secure the system, then proceed through the Harmony Asimov Point and secure Harmony. If Admiral Justinian wants to fight us, he will no doubt meet us there.”
Marius kept his face inscrutable, but inwardly he was nodding in understanding. The Senate was clearly dictating instructions to their chosen commander, without regard for military logic. The proposed route took over a month longer than the least-time route to Harmony, but it had the advantage that valuable systems could be secured easily. The Jefferson System, in particular, was coveted by many interstellar corporations. The orders to “secure” the system could easily be turned into “occupy.”
“Admiral,” Captain Sanderson said, “it is well known that the Jefferson System is effectively impossible to defend. Why do you want us to attempt to secure it?”