Screw them all, Michael decided in a sudden burst of defiant energy. He’d be damned if he’d spend the rest of his life hiding out in his cabin. He would try to track down Kallewi. He might be able to persuade the big marine to spend a couple of hours in the gym; Kallewi always enjoyed showing him how little he knew about unarmed combat. Michael still had the aches and bruises from their last session to prove his ignorance, and he had a feeling that improving his unarmed combat skills might come in handy one day.
Reenergized, he started to get out of his bunk when a soft chime announced the arrival of a priority com. What now? he wondered when he accepted the call.
It was Jaruzelska. “Oh, hello, sir,” Michael said. “What can I do for you?”
“Well actually, Michael, it’s what I can do for you in my capacity as the ex-commander of Battle Fleet Lima,” Jaruzelska said, smiling broadly. “I’m going to com you two documents. Read them carefully and com me straight back.”
“Will do, sir,” Michael said, mystified.
The first document popped into his neuronics. Michael read it and read it again. “Yes,” he said out loud, punching his fist into the air, “thank you, Vice Admiral Jaruzelska, thank you, thank you.” He sat down on his bunk, overwhelmed by the admiral’s faith in him. Without any of the arguments he’d expected, she had approved every single one of his medal recommendations. Quite right; it was nothing less than the marines and spacers of Dreadnought Group deserved. He opened the second document.
His spirits sank as he read it through. He had said to Jaruzelska, as firmly as any junior officer could to one of Fleet’s most distinguished flag officers, that he wanted no public recognition for Operation Opera. Jaruzelska had not tried to argue the issue with him. Stupidly, he had taken her silence for acquiescence. He shook his head. Medals might be important to some people, but he did not care about or for them. Just three things mattered to him: getting Anna back, seeing the Hammers defeated, and destroying Doc-Sec. That was it. Fleet could throw all the tin at him they liked, and none of it would count for anything. Sadly, Jaruzelska did not agree. She attached a short covering note in which she made it abundantly clear that she would be mightily pissed if Michael declined the honors he had been awarded.
Unwilling to betray Jaruzelska’s unstinting faith in him, Michael resigned himself to the fact that he would have to accept the medals. If it added more fuel to the fires raging around him, so be it. He commed Jaruzelska.
“Happy?” she said.
“Yes, sir. My guys deserve the recognition. So thanks for that.”
Jaruzelska nodded. “My pleasure. They earned those medals five times over. But I notice you’re not saying much about yours. Should I read anything into that, Lieutenant Helfort?”
“Er, no, sir,” Michael sputtered. “No, you shouldn’t. Thank you, sir. I’m honored.”
“Yes, you are honored, you ungrateful tyke,” Jaruzelska said. “I listened to what you said, Michael. I heard and understood every word. I know how you feel about these things, but I just cannot agree with you. You need to understand two things. First, a medal is not a piece of cheap pressed metal. It’s a public statement. It shows that what you do matters enough for the Federation to take the trouble to say so, out loud, in public, for all to hear. Believe me, that’s important when you’re facedown in the muck and blood of combat. Second, if I don’t recognize the commander of my three dreadnought squadrons, what would that tell the world?”
“That you think I was wrong to disobey Perkins’s order?” Michael hazarded.
“That’s right. Let me tell you, Michael, that would have been ten times worse than all the debate these medals are going to generate. Shit storm does not even begin to describe it. Understood?”
“Yes, sir. Understood.”
“Good. You know something, Michael?”
“What, sir?”
“You are a good combat commander. You’ve proved that over and over again. But you’re not a great commander … yet. You can be one of the greats, one of the people Fleet officers talk about in a hundred years, but only if you get your head up out of the dirt. I know it’s a tired old cliche, Michael, but a great commander really does start with the big picture and work back to the details. How else can you get the small things right? Michael”-Jaruzelska’s voice softened-“I know the things that matter to you, I know what you want to achieve, but don’t let them make your decisions for you. Put them into context first before working out how to get them done. All right?”
“Sir,” Michael said, trying not to sound mulish but not quite succeeding.
Jaruzelska sighed. “You are one stubborn son of a bitch, Michael, and that’s a God-given fact,” she said. “Anyway, enough of the career guidance. Fleet will be in touch about the awards ceremony. The commander in chief has agreed that all the dreadnoughts’ medals be awarded at one time. Okay, that’s it. Once again, well done.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Jaruzelska’s avatar vanished, leaving Michael wondering when he would ever get one over on the admiral. Probably never, he decided as he returned to the task of locating Kallewi, as he seemed to know him better than he knew himself.
Friday, June 1, 2401, UD
Personnel Division, Space Fleet headquarters
Foundation, Terranova
“Take a seat, Helfort.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Captain Selvaraj, Assistant Director, Fleet Personnel (Command Postings), studied Michael for a while before speaking. When he did speak, his voice was cold.
“Since the board of inquiry has in effect exonerated you”-Selvaraj made a point of stressing the words in effect, his tone leaving no doubt that there had been a serious miscarriage of justice-“we need to decide where you go next.”
“Yes, sir, though if I may, sir?”
“What?”
“Well, sir. I think I should point out that the board of inquiry did not ‘in effect’ exonerate me, it-”
“Enough,” Selvaraj snapped, eyes narrowing in anger. “How dare you …” He stopped, fighting to recover his composure. “I am not interested in semantics, Lieutenant. And watch your mouth. I’ll not tolerate insubordination. Is that understood?”
Michael stared coolly at the man long enough to call his bluff. “Yes,” he said. “Understood … sir.”
Selvaraj’s face darkened. “I’ve reviewed your file in detail,” he said at last, “and I think what should happen next is pretty obvious. Given what you’ve been through, I believe you should consider resigning your commission.”
Michael was not sure he had heard the man right. “Sorry, sir?” he said, confused. “What? Resign?” It was the last thing he had expected to hear.
“Yes. Resign, Helfort. I think that would be the best thing for you, for your fellow spacers, for Fleet. We think you should resign.”
Anger flared inside Michael, white-hot, nearly uncontrollable. He forced himself to sit absolutely still, not trusting himself to speak. Goddamn pencil pusher, he raged. How dare he?
Selvaraj drummed his fingers on the desk. “Helfort, I don’t have all day. If you’ve been struck dumb for some reason, if you’d like some time to think about what I’ve just said, we’ll reschedule.”
“No, sir,” Michael said. “I think this needs to be resolved. Here, now. If that’s okay with you, of course.”