Final Battle (In Her Name, Book 6) by Michael R. Hicks

Author:Michael R. Hicks [Hicks, Michael R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Michael R. Hicks
Published: 2009-09-01T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“Merde, but this will not work!” L’Houillier sputtered angrily, slamming his fist down on the table. “This insanity has cost us fourteen ships already from collisions around Erlang, and there will be three times as many ships appearing in the target zone. And those blasted politicians strutting around this ship like a bunch of cheap whores, pandering to that… that…” L’Houillier’s vocabulary failed to provide him an acceptable descriptor for the new Commander-in-Chief.

Sitting across from him, Zhukovski added to the fleet commander’s gloom. “And that is without interference from Kreelans,” he muttered. In all the years that the two had been friends, this was the first time that Zhukovski had seen L’Houillier lose his temper. Fortunately, it had been in private, in Zhukovski’s stateroom. Had such words been uttered beyond the Russian admiral’s electronically screened quarters, or within earshot of the wrong people, Borge would have acted quickly to see that L’Houillier – or anyone else, for that matter – quickly found his way into retirement. Or worse.

There seem to have been a lot of ‘retirements’ recently, Zhukovski noted bitterly of the virtual purge that had taken place among upper and middle grade Navy and Marine officers. He was amazed that he and L’Houillier had avoided the axe this long. Perhaps, he mused, Borge has something special planned for us.

“There is little we can do, admiral,” Zhukovski went on, pouring another vodka for the two of them, “at least without exploring less pleasant… alternatives.”

L’Houillier looked hard at his intelligence officer. “I would be lying to you if I said I had not experienced similar thoughts, Evgeni,” he said quietly, “but to say more – let alone to do more – is treason of the worst sort. The Confederation does not need a military dictatorship, or for the military to decide on a civilian leader.”

“Even now?”

L’Houillier nodded. “Even now. You know how I feel about this man and his minions, but I swore an oath, as did you, as did every member of the Confederation Defense Forces, to uphold its constitution and its legally established leaders. Borge succeeded Nathan legally, and that is that.”

“I wonder,” Zhukovski said aloud.

“What is that supposed to mean?” L’Houillier asked sharply.

“Being curious as cat – which is prerequisite for intelligence officer – I have taken liberty of conducting some… historical research into fearless leader’s background.”

“Evgeni!” L’Houillier hissed. “You had no right or authorization to do that! Using your position to gain access to classified–”

“Admiral misunderstands,” Zhukovski gently interrupted him, putting up a hand to silence his friend and superior. “Public domain information only. No access to classified materials made,” his eyes darkened. “None necessary.”

The Grand Admiral frowned, still not liking it. The thought of what would happen to them should any of the current civilian leaders discover that a military officer had been digging into the background of the president…

But, as Zhukovski had known it would, curiosity got the better of him. “Well?” L’Houillier asked finally. “What did you find out?”

Zhukovski smiled. He knew his admiral well.

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