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CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“He did what?”

Fleet Admiral Fokaides set down a glass of clear alcohol and turned away from the beach outside the villa. Admiral Yang, in a dress uniform at odds with the fleet admiral’s more relaxed linen clothes and the civilian trappings of the glass-walled den, waggled a slate in one hand.

“Spaced out from Jalal Station almost immediately on his arrival and took his entire command on a rescue mission to Scotia,” Yang replied. The crash of a wave rumbled through the villa. “He also took the fleet detachment assigned to Scotia—and the governor—with him. All of which was at Murphy’s command discretion.”

“That…does not sound like Terrence Murphy.”

Fokaides sat down and a corgi hopped into his lap. He scratched its head, frowning out at the beach.

“Do we—” Yang glanced at a closed door “—want to involve your host in this discussion?”

A woman’s laughter carried through the door.

“Mr. Boyle is a bit preoccupied,” Fokaides observed. “Now why…why in the hell would Murphy haul his entire command, and a force he—I don’t want to say ‘stole’—”

“Dynamically retasked?”

“Dynamically retasked to go back to some third-rate Fringe planet that barely had the population density to man a cruiser? His orders are to be in New Dublin by the end of this month. We don’t have time to shift deployments around to cover the gap. Thakore is going to throw a fit when I have to relieve his son-in-law for cause.”

The closed door opened.

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Amedeo Boyle came out of his bedroom in a bathrobe, pajamas, and slippers. “Murphy will make it to New Dublin on time. Says so in the timetable he sent back before he left Jalal.”

Yang frowned at the slate in her hand, then looked back at Boyle.

“How do you know that? I just got this three hours ago. I came down from the Oval as soon as I got the word,” she said.

“A little birdie told me.” Boyle winked at her. “But that timetable holds, yes? They were due for a stopover in Jalal with time for fleet maneuvers to integrate the task force. Murphy just decided to spend that time digging Fringers out of rubble, instead.”

He crossed to a comfortable chair and sank into it.

“Give me that.” Fokaides swiped the slate out of Yang’s hand and began reading.

“This is not what we expected from Murphy,” Yang said. “We gave him the easiest command the Federation has so close to the frontier. All we need him to do is sit on New Dublin and not lose the keys to his carrier division. I don’t like this.”

“This doesn’t really sound like O’Hanraghty,” Fokaides announced, tossing the slate on the coffee table.

“You can tell? How are you even aware of Murphy’s batman?” Boyle asked.

He clapped his hands at the dog and patted his lap. The corgi didn’t move.

“O’Hanraghty’s a special case,” Fokaides replied. “He’s been involved with a number of wrong-think groups in the past. Helps to keep people like that under watch.”

“Oh…one of those Rish conspiracy nuts?” Boyle rolled his eyes.

“It’s a common enough suspicion among Fringe-born officers and enlisted,” Yang said. “We haven’t gone so far as to cashier everyone that seems warm to believing the Rish are somehow pulling the League’s strings. Not that we haven’t been tempted. But if we take any action, it looks like their theories are legitimate. Then it snowballs from there.”

“Public ridicule and stymied careers are enough to keep ambitious officers from joining that cult,” Fokaides said. “And Murphy’s too smart to fall for anything like that. But now he’s yanking on the leash.”

“It was within his prerogative,” Yang pointed out.

“Prerogative, maybe, but I don’t like commanders with too much initiative.” Fokaides waved a finger at Yang. “They think they’re smarter than you, and then they’ll go off and make a decision that throws off planning done at higher levels. The only thing worse than an intelligent and energetic officer is a stupid and energetic officer. And we didn’t give Murphy this command because of his stellar track record.”

The fleet admiral glanced at Boyle, and the other man shrugged.

“The business side prefers intelligent and lazy executives as well,” he said. “But how is the rescue mission to Scotia a bad thing? Lives saved. Good news story for the nets instead of a text line at the bottom of the broadcast listing the casualty numbers. Thakore will be thrilled when he hears about this.”

“It may play well in terms of public perception,” Yang said, “but the Admiralty is not amused. One event isn’t a trend, but I still don’t like this. Murphy needs to get back on the program.”

“We need the League’s focus on Beta Cygni,” Fokaides amplified for Boyle’s benefit. “Murphy’s task force is stronger than most of the system pickets we’ve been forced to divert to the Fringe, but there are a lot of them. More than most people realize. Frankly, even prioritizing to protect just the most significant of our assets around the periphery, we’re spread way too thin to stop a committed assault anywhere besides Beta Cygni. If Murphy decides to play cowboy out there, the League may think we’re readying a push in his command area. Especially if they notice how we’ve upgraded the maintenance facilities in New Dublin. It may not be much compared to a Heart World, but the system’s in a good spot to serve as a logistics nexus for the Concordia Sector in general. That’s why we’ve invested in the improvements there—as a support point for the local defense forces, not an offensive springboard. But if they add those improvements to any loose warhead tendencies on Murphy’s part, they may decide two plus two equals five and think we are beefing up the sector to prep for more offensive action on our part. And if they think that, they may just decide to beef up their own forces in response.”

“How is that bad?” Boyle asked. “The less League in Beta Cygni, the easier our fight.”

“Because we don’t have the ships or the logistics to push into League space from New Dublin,” Yang said. “Inhabited systems are few and far between out that way, but that area is even more Fringe for the League than it is for us. There’s a reason neither side’s authorized fleet actions in that sector for years. Raids like this business at Scotia, yes. They happen from time to time, although we haven’t seen one as ugly as this appears to have been for quite a while. But we don’t push anything like that, because we have more settled systems and more populations in the sector. More to lose if the League attacks. If Murphy makes noise, the League will investigate…and realize just how thin we are out there. In which case, they may decide on something a bit more ambitious than just K-striking an epsilon-tier world in the middle of nowhere.”

“But his show of force at Scotia sends the opposite message, doesn’t it?” Fokaides said thoughtfully. “Shows we’re there and ready to respond if the League pushes things. That’s one way to look at it, anyway.” He laced his hands behind his head. “Even a blind squirrel can find a nut now and then. So maybe his initiative deserves a sudden promotion back to the Oval?”

“Two birds with one stone?” Yang murmured.

“No,” Boyle said firmly. “Murphy stays in command. We need him to come back as planned.”

“Sir,” Yang became flustered for a moment, “political considerations aren’t—”

“A moment, Xiaolan,” Fokaides interrupted. He glanced fleetingly at Boyle as he crossed a leg, careful not to disturb the resting dog, and bounced a foot. “One event is not a trend. So let’s make sure a trend doesn’t develop. Let’s get someone we trust in-system to keep a close watch on him.”

“A minder,” Yang said slowly.

“A reminder that he’s under scrutiny,” the fleet admiral said. “This way, everything goes the way my Oval wants it to go, and other parties are also satisfied. Yes?” He directed the question at Boyle.

“Fine.” Boyle waved a hand. “Send him a plant to be something on his staff. Perhaps with additional instructions to keep O’Hanraghty from being too much of a negative influence?”

“Or one less pain in my ass?” Fokaides huffed. “That can be arranged. Xiaolan, I hope you brought the latest stats from Beta Cygni? Boyle has a real chef in the kitchen, and he’s got fresh octopus for xtapodi. Stay for dinner.”

“I do have the preliminary report with me,” she said.

“Then take your coat off and stay a while.” Boyle waved at the bar. “The war’s not going anywhere.”


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