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This scene will likely appear somewhere in either Last Charge of the Defiant or the second volume of The Infamous 24. You get this exclusive preview in appreciation for being a subscriber to my newsletter. Give me your mini-review in the comments!
It had been quite some time since Admiral Benjamin Powers had visited the Alliance First House. He had been invited to Core Prime many times before, of course, given his position in the military hierarchy of the Core Systems government. He had many friends across numerous departments including a wide variety of civilian officials. But being summoned to the president’s home was quite rare, even for a high-ranking flag officer.
William Baines had endured a rocky presidency. The attempt against his daughter Eileen had preceded an interval of great uncertainty, even among other officials both elected and appointed. The Core Council was paralyzed by indecision and what Powers believed was raw fear for several days. Press secretaries ran to microphones only to realize they had nothing to say. The president hadn’t abdicated, primarily because short of a resignation there was no legal mechanism for such an act. The vice-president had been rumored to have treated the whole episode with considerable grace, which only tended to redound on the president himself. The chief executive’s administration was eventually righted without any metaphorical bloodbaths in the cabinet or Core Council. But President Baines’ presence had diminished somewhat. He was a man with very little armor left to protect him from further vulnerability.
This was on Admiral Powers’ mind when he scheduled his visit. There was no telling what he would walk in to when he opened the door to the presidential office. It could be a one against many situation, in which case he would be called on, tacitly or otherwise to either step aside or resign his commission. It could be a staged bout between himself and another officer, likely Admiral Barman or perhaps Admiral James. The subject matter of the disagreement wasn’t in question. The Omicron incident and Powers’ implied orders regarding the mission of the battleship Argent had both been the subject of almost continuous speculation both in official circles and among the members of the civilian press. The politically-minded population had made it clear by margins of between 55 and 70% that they disapproved of “rogue officers” ordering starships on dangerous missions without authorization and oversight. Whether or not such orders were ever issued wasn’t finally the point. There were vacations and hovercars to sell.
As the CINC Northern Banner, Benjamin Powers was by no means without a little juice of his own. In the grand hierarchy of command ranks, he was in fifth place behind the president, the defense director, Commander Skywatch and the Fleet Chief of Staff. Unlike military command structures of days gone by, Skywatch separated the roles of commander of the fleet and chief of staff, mainly because of the complexity of, ironically enough, the Marine Corps. The Core Alliance equivalent of the Joint Chiefs of Staff consisted of seven flag officers, up to five of whom were often marine generals. This was becuase the Skywatch Marine Corps maintained its own strike fighter command, intelligence section and special forces command. The fleet only maintained separate logistical commands for ships of the line and base personnel. Given the specializations involved, it was deemed prudent that each section be represented in the military version of the Alliance Security Council.
That meant that Admiral Powers served in a role equivalent to three other four-star billets, one for each of the cardinal directions on what Jason Hunter called “the big map.” Northern Banner was Powers’ concern. It’s arrow was equivalent to due north, pointing at the top of the map. Aside from Western Banner, it was the command that faced most of humanity’s current threats, including the Sarn Star Empire, the Yersian Three-Moon Faction and the Kraken Decarchy.
There were only four men in the entire Core Alliance who could issue an order that Benjamin Powers would be required to follow. The man in the presidential office was one. William Baines was by no means a “war” president. His campaign had focused on civilian matters, as would be expected in the aftermath of the First Praetorian War. There was a reason everyone called it “First Praetorian.” It was because nobody believed it would be the last.
“Ben! It’s great to see you. Come in.”
The admiral removed his cover and stepped into the spacious presidential office. The room was appointed with ceiling to floor draperies, various museum-quality mementos and a disarmingly rustic set of antique furniture around what the tour guides called an “18th century coffee table.” It was delightfully anachronistic some seven hundred years later, but most took it all in stride.
The president was dressed rather formally, which was to be expected. He was not wearing his coat, but a vest instead. His long sleeves were proof he had probably already accomplished the first chapters of a full schedule for the day. Powers would not be his last meeting by any stretch. What surprised the admiral was the absence of anyone else in the room. Meeting with the president was par for the course for a man potentially third in command of humanity’s military forces. Meeting the president one-on-one was almost unheard of. Surely the commander-in-chief recognized there were three people between Powers and himself in the chain of command?
“Can I get you anything? Coffee?”
“No thank you, mister president.” Powers placed his cover on the table with regulation precision. He briefly considered reclining in the proper and stately bench-like sofa but decided against it. The president took a seat across from the admiral and leaned his elbows against his knees. The situation was unusual enough to make the admiral believe something calamitous was imminent: Something serious enough to make Powers take stock of his capacity to defend the commander-in-chief hand-to-hand if necessary.
“I’ve heard a set of stories of late, admiral. And I’ve heard a second set that seem to contradict the first. Since I have nobody assigned to the subject matter I figured it was time I got the details from the ranking officer. What’s going on in the Atlantis sector?”
The question wasn’t entirely unexpected. The timing was interesting, however, given that Powers had heard nothing from anyone else in the fleet regarding presidential curiosity. Benjamin Powers controlled an intelligence network that rivaled anything else in known space. If someone let out a yell, if he wished the admiral could have the sound under surveillance from three directions before the echo died.
“I ordered the battleship Argent to investigate the presence or absence of enemy activity beyond the Omicron frontier. A Skywatch destroyer apparently opened fire on Jason Hunter’s ship, disabling her. According to Admiral Hafnetz, Argent was lost when she crossed the Omicron event horizon. Strike Fleet Achilles was subsequently ambushed by an unusually large Kraken Task Force. During the battle Captain Renaldo Delgado was assassinated and the starship Tae San was lost in an apparent weapons detonation. Argent emerged at a rather opportune moment and drove the attackers off. We sustained heavy casualties. All surviving vessels returned to base.”
“That quite a story, admiral.”
“Not everybody was prepared for the worst, mister president.”
“Atlantis is forbidden space.”
“Yes sir.”
“It’s not just a civilian matter, Ben. It’s forbidden under Skywatch regulations.”
“Yes sir, it is.”
“Why would you risk your career on a region so far from any significant populations?”
“Mister president, if there are places my officers and their ships cannot go, it is there our enemies will fester and grow and eventually draw their plans against us.”
President Baines rose and moved to his desk. He held his chin in contemplation. “If we confirm what the press already believes it will make this look like a cover-up.”
“Mister president, with all due respect, if we don’t address what is taking place at this very moment in Atlantis space, there is a very good chance future presidents will lay annual wreaths at a memorial for millions of Alliance citizens killed by the combined forces of three alien fleets.”
Baines met Powers’ gaze. “Do you have evidence to back up that claim?”
It suddenly became clear why Baines had ordered the admiral to his office instead of his superiors. He was avoiding turning the chain of command into a fuse. “If my plan is successful, I will develop sufficient evidence in due time. We discovered the wreck of the Tae San only days ago. She is partially intact and there may be survivors.”
The president’s face grew several shades paler. “That would be quite substantial.”
“Yes sir, it would.”
The president reclaimed his spot on the opposite facing couch. “You’re not my achievement, admiral. My predecessor appointed you to lead Northern Banner. I know the dilemma you and the rest of the fleet endured during and after the schism. You’ve all done magnificent work with your young officers corps. I can only imagine what you are planning next.”
Ben Powers had been a command-grade and then a flag officer long enough to recognize a civilian official giving himself room for a Mulligan. The president was operating in unknown territory, something elected officials knew was tantamount to career-ending disaster if not handled properly. Defense directors, supreme commanders and chiefs of staff could not be called on to participate in such shenanigans. But banner admirals could, which was why the president of the Core Alliance had just handed Ben Powers the equivalent of a blank check while wearing clean room gloves.
“I would be happy to provide you with the full details, sir.” Powers retrieved his cover and rose.
“You’ll have the full support of my office, admiral.” The president graciously shook Powers’ hand.
“Thank you, mister president.”
As he left the office, Powers replaced his cover and strode with purpose. His authority had just doubled, and he knew exactly where to point the new firepower he had just been given.
