Free Eagle (Jacob Hull) by Kindal Debenham

to be a very long day.
     
    The shuttle entered the dock slowly, and Jacob watched the outer hatch close with barely restrained impatience. The light over the entryway changed to yellow and then green, indicating atmosphere had been pumped back into the dock and it was now safe to enter. The instant the hatch was operational, Jacob went through. Ashford had to hurry to keep up as he followed him.
    By the time Jacob walked across the dock to where the shuttle was waiting, Ashford tailing him at a discrete pace, the shuttle had already disgorged four Marines in full combat armor. They all had their weapons at the ready, and they tossed salutes to Ashford and Jacob as they took up positions around the hatch. The next person through was the High Seat of the Celostian Union, Adam Smithson.
    Smithson was the man who had assigned Jacob the task of putting the Navy back together; the warm smile he gave Jacob suggested the chief officer of the Union did not regret his choice yet. The medallion symbolizing Smithson’s authority lay on his chest as he descended to the deck of the shuttle bay, and he spoke a few quiet words with the head of his security team. Then he crossed the deck at a measured, stately pace. Behind him came Leon, who looked utterly exhausted. Whether the fatigue was from the journey or the fact he was escorting the head of the Union was hard to tell.
    Jacob came to attention and saluted, as did Ashford at his side. They both remained in that position until Smithson had given them a friendly nod. “Now, now, enough of that you two. We’ve got quite a bit too much to do for all of that nonsense.” He glanced at Leon, who had wearily copied their salutes. “Besides, I believe poor Captain Nivrosky is about to pass out.”
    With an exasperated grunt, Jacob dropped his salute. “Discipline is not nonsense, High Seat—and I think Captain Nivrosky knew what he was getting into when he agreed to be my chief of staff.” He turned to Leon. “So, Captain, did you have an interesting trip?”
    Leon gave him a smile. “A bit more interesting than we planned on, obviously. I think we should head to the nearest conference room, where we can go over things in private?” He looked at the High Seat, one eyebrow raised.
    Smithson sighed. “That would be wise Admiral Hull. If you could indulge us?”
    Jacob gestured for them to follow him, and he led the way toward the entry hatch for the bay. Two of the High Seat’s security team followed them while the remaining two stayed with the ship. Ashford walked alongside, his posture expressing anything but excitement at the prospect of another meeting. It was a studiously quiet walk through the corridor.
    As they entered the conference room, Jacob turned to Smithson. “I trust Captain Nivrosky presented my plans to you, High Seat?”
    “He has indeed, Admiral Hull.” Smithson smiled. “I suppose I should not have been surprised to see such an idea from you. It is in your nature to take action rather than wait for the other shoe to drop.”
    Jacob offered him a thin smile. “I suppose that is true.” He tapped a key to bring up a projection of the border, displaying the Oduran side of the Frontier. “I have an offensive operation planned, something that will hopefully dull the ability of the Odurans to strike at us. It will involve an attack against Oduran territory, however, and the Board feels such actions are unwise.”
    Smithson glanced at Leon. “I’m afraid I very much sympathize with them, Admiral Hull. Your plan sounds very much like the mouse sneaking into the lion’s den and hoping to kill the beast.”
    “Better to do it in the den while they’re sleeping than to face the lion in the field.” Jacob gestured to the map. “According to our Intelligence estimates, the Odurans are pulling in crews and resources to reactivate a squadron of dreadnaughts. Those ships would then be used in an offensive strike against us.”
    When Smithson nodded but kept his peace,