Or perhaps his misguided and shortsighted forebears simply hadn't liked effective leadership?
The bridge aboard the DMF heavy frigate Justiciar had been cleared for this demonstration, with all the officers from readily available ships in the task force, particularly the offending vessels, gathered around the sides to observe. And, if they were wise, pass the message along to the rest of their crews.
Most kept their posture and expressions suitably disciplined, although a few were starting to look a bit green. Good.
Eight. Nine. Ten. Perhaps the man was due a brief reprieve while Granoss addressed the leadership of his task force. He raised one finger, and the junior crewman wielding the newly fabricated lash gasped with relief and stepped back; that man was looking more than simply green . . . perhaps Granoss should've carried out the punishment personally.
Hanging by his arms from cables hooked into the ceiling, former captain Jian Dalar of the Vindicator also gasped in relief, although it came out as more of a groan. He struggled to put weight on his legs and straighten to a military bearing, pride compelling him to handle this with good grace.
Fool.
“A great deal of effort and expense was devoted to infiltrating a Dormant aboard the target,” Granoss said loudly, raking his eyes across the assembled officers. “This emplaced asset very likely could've singlehandedly turned the battle our way, possibly even destroyed the target without us needing to lift a finger. All that was needed was to send the trigger signal at the outset of the encounter at Brastos 4.”
He ambled forward to take the whip from the crewman, grimacing in mild distaste at the blood on the handle. He wiped it, then his soiled fingers, on Dalar's tattered uniform shirt as he continued. “The Fleet has devoted an entire task force and extensive intelligence assets to the destruction of one light cruiser. This is absurd overkill by any reckoning, such that the target should already be scattered dust drifting through space.”
For a moment Granoss paused, once again running his eyes over the assembled men and women on his bridge. Although no one looked away, no one met his gaze, either. “Crewman Dalar, do you know why our leaders have gone to so much trouble for this one ship?”
The oaf struggled to square his shoulders, staring straight ahead at nothing. “Sir, according to our briefing, the Last Stand is a stain on the Movement's reputation. One which encourages resistance simply by dint of our inability to deal with them. The symbolic damage they do to us in the eyes of humanity is far more significant than any minor losses in ships and cargo, and thus warrants excessive force to ensure they are stopped at all costs.”
“At all costs,” Granoss mused, idly flicking the whip. “Since they represent a symbolic threat, a stain on our reputation, what do you suppose the effect would be of an entire task force very visibly failing to defeat them in a conflict where the odds were heavily stacked in our favor in every way?”
Dalar paled, swallowing with effort. “Significantly more detrimental to our image, sir.”
“I'm glad you recognize that. Strange it didn't occur to you during the battle.” Granoss turned away from the disgraced man in disgust, addressing his officers in a loud voice. “Crewman Dalar wished to defeat the Last Stand with his own vessel as a mark of distinction. He willfully refrained from using embedded assets or cooperating with the other task force ships so he could claim the glory for himself.”
He gestured contemptuously behind him at the man hanging from the cables. “At the moment, he does not appear particularly steeped in glory, does he?” There was dead silence on the bridge, no one daring to so much as shake their head.
“The Fleet is expending a disproportionate amount of resources to this mission. More importantly, our reputation is on the line. Therefore, I fully expect that anyone in this task force who is afforded an opportunity to destroy the target in the future will do so without hesitation, grandstanding, or glory-seeking. Activate the Dormant, blow the Stag captain and his pirate crew to the void, and we can all get back to doing more important things.”
Granoss handed the lash back to the junior crewman and returned to his previous place, then inclined his head. “You may carry out the remainder of the punishment.”
End of Last Stand.
Aiden's and Lana's story continues in
Caretakers, Book Two of the
Stag Privateers series.
Author's Note
Thank you for reading Last Stand!
I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Will you please consider leaving a review? Even a few words will help readers decide if this book is right for them. Also, this is a new series, and reviews are a great way to provide me with useful feedback that can help me improve, and also how much time to continue to commit to this universe.
I've made it super simple. Just click this link and you'll travel to the Amazon review page for Last Stand, where you can leave your review. Best regards and thank you in advance:
Amazon Last Stand Review Link
Turn the page for links to some of my other works, including the Post-Apocalyptic series that started it all: Best Laid Plans.
Links to books by Nathan Jones
POST-APOCALYPTIC
BEST LAID PLANS
Fuel
Shortage
Invasion
Reclamation
Determination
Fallen City:A Best Laid Plans Standalone
NUCLEAR WINTER
First Winter
First Spring
Chain Breakers
Going Home
MOUNTAIN MAN
Badlands
Homeland
SCIENCE FICTION
STELLAR MERGER
Boralene
STAG PRIVATEERS
Last Stand
