Bartarello is an extraordinarily attractive young woman, very observant, so she was tasked with seducing the Union Grand Supreme Admiral – that appears to be a reasonable approximation of his title into the ranks of a civilized fleet – to gain an understanding of what the Anglic Union is actually doing, trying to fob us off with these scrap heaps of warships. She did ask him questions, under the guise of learning more about Union politics, but only during dinner. She made no effort to seduce him. In other words, she totally botched what should have been an extremely simple mission.
Under Intelligence Regulations I cannot put any black marks in her record. However, since she appears to be totally clueless, when her objective should have been obvious, your office can handle matters. We have a dead-end post, military attache to the Anglic Union, which she could be given. There is no promotion route out of that post. Historically, people with that assignment have usually resigned their commission and gone away; a modest number lapsed into alcoholism after only a few years.
&&&&&
Squadron Commander Smith stared at his viewscreen. The smiling face of Grand Supreme Admiral of the Fleet Thatcher looked back at him. Smith’s squadron was still in high orbit around planet D. The maneuvers had been completed, detailed reports had been written, a series of celebratory banquets, to which the Anglic Union officers had definitely not been invited, had been held, and Smith had waited patiently for the final set of reports on the maneuvers and his squadron’s performance in them before he returned to Earth. He had already received written reports. Someone had a bee in his bonnet that his squadron had found a significant number of asteroids that the Stellar Republic Mapping Service had never noticed. His squadron’s entirely bland report was apparently ill-received. Now he was receiving the verbal summary from Grand Admiral Thatcher.
“In conclusion,” Grand Admiral Thatcher said, “based on your performance during the maneuvers, we find that your ships are unfit for purpose and should not be considered for purchase by the Imperial Navy. I hope you will not take this personally. Several of my junior officers emphasized to me that you appeared to have done well with the technology you have, but your technology is so backward that it’s not of any interest. I shall repeat the recommendation that our diplomatic service has given to the Anglic Union many times before: You should abandon your peculiar ideas, and join the Stellar Republic in an appropriate status, probably a Junior Apprentice Grade in which you would receive a substantial number of advisors to assist you in reforming your governmental practices, to bring them into line with the superior practices of the Stellar Republic. Having said that, I wish you a safe trip home, and remind you that since you did participate in our maneuvers, you are entitled to stop at fleet bases if you are in dire need of emergency repairs. Thatcher out.” Thatcher cut the connection.
Smith wandered why, if his ship’s technology was so backward, they had managed to find so many asteroids that the Mapping Service had never noticed. The reverse of that question was whether or not Thatcher was aware of the asteroid count, or whether he’d simply been informed that the Terran squadron had only found a few of the asteroids, even though they’d been told exactly where to look to find them. No matter, he thought, it had been an interesting introduction to the Imperial Navy and its actual current standards. A reasonable man would wonder what would happen if the Stellar Republic tried to fight a war against a serious opponent, but that was not his problem.
“Squadron,” he said to his fellow officers, each of whom had heard Thatcher give his summary, “it is time to leave. We should all be ready to initiate departure in fifteen minutes. Proceed. Smith out.” He cut his viewscreen.
