Gran Colombian News, H1/1913

[The Rock Doctor]

3 January 1913:  Cartagena

Rain was pattering down as President Alizandro and his ministers convened for their first formal meeting since before the holidays. 

"Good morning", the President said.  "I hope Christmas and the New Year were pleasant for you all; other than Jose getting into the punch on New Year's Eve, it was a good time for us."

"Accidents will happen", Sebastien de Soto remarked.

"Well, it wasn't an accident", Rey replied.  "He knew it was for adults only.  Anyway, he's learned a lesson now.  So - it seems to be relatively quiet out there in the world, and that means it's a good time for the shuffle."

"The what?", Sir Edmund Fitzroy asked.

"The cabinet shuffle", Rey clarified.  "Individual matters have been adding up; I feel it necessary to implement it now."

Fitzroy nodded.  Some of the other ministers looked at each other curiously.

"First, we have the long-standing gap in Finance, since Laureano Dulau's retirement.  I'm transferring Aquileo Alizandro into that role."

Aquileo's surprise was evident, but it was Ricardo Alizandro who piped up, "Why?"

"Because if Aquileo is my designated successor until Jose is of age, he must understand the machinery of government.  Line departments like Natural Resources will not provide that experience.  Aquileo - do you accept the offer?"

"Ah, yes", the President's cousin replied.  "Thank you."

"That creates an opening in Natural Resources, of course.  I invited Floriano Brocado to take the position but he expressed a strong preference for his posting as governor of Amazonas del Sur.  So I'm going to set a precedent..."

"Uh-oh", Ricardo muttered.

"...and appoint Carla Davalos to the post."

"Your cousin Carla?", de Soto inquired.

"Your female cousin Carla?", Ricardo clarified.

"Yes, her", Rey confirmed.  "It's an unusual thing, I recognize, but she's as smart as anybody here, and she's got corporate experience from the family firm."

"I don't know that this would be such a good idea", Ricardo replied.

"You don't have to", Rey said.  "Next, I'm handing off my functions as Minister of Internal Security.  I don't have time to do it justice, if you will.  Sebastien, I was looking to you to take on that responsibility."

De Soto frowned.  "It will be quite a change from Industry...but yes, I'll take it on if that's your preference."

"Thank you", Rey said.  "Nicholas Benson, CEO of the Cromwell-London Steamship Line, has agreed to join the Cabinet as our new Industry Minister.  He was not able to join us today, but should be here next week."

The President then reached into his suit jacket, fumbled about, and withdrew an envelope.  He handed it wordlessly to his uncle Ricardo, seated immediately on his left. 

Ricardo opened the envelope, pulled out a sheet a paper, and began reading.  "Hijo de puta...", he growled, then picked up a pen from the table and signed the bottom of the sheet.  He handed it back to Rey, then stood and walked out of the room.

"Ricardo Alizandro has resigned as Minister of Defence", Rey explained to the befuddled ministers.  "As I no longer feel it is necessary to have a full ministry for Jamaican Affairs, I'm asking Sir Edmund to accept the position of Minister of Defence."

Sir Edmund could only nod.  Rey continued, "That is all.  I recognize that some of this is unexpected, but it is for the good of the Republic.  We'll adjourn for today - no sense in exploring specific issues until those of you with new responsibilities have had a chance to be briefed on them."

[The Rock Doctor]

25 January 1913:  La Prensa Nacional

Just three weeks into his new job, Industry Minister Nicholas Benson is already departing on his first overseas trip.  The former president of the Cromwell-London Steamship Line is on his way west, to Japan.

"The Republic of Gran Colombia is actively working to open new markets for its many entrepenuers and businessmen", Minister Benson remarked in San Miguelito before boarding his ship.  "My predecessor, Minister de Soto, was able to initiate productive discussions with the Empire of Japan, and this dialogue has continued at the officials level, with the result that I and my Japanese counterpart will be signing a trade and investment agreement next month in Edo."

The news was applauded by prominent members of the Gran Colombian service sector.  Manuel del Toro, chairman of the Banque del Republico, told reporters, "The Empire of Japan is widely viewed as a favorable location for investment, on account of its stable government, business-friendly regulatory regime, and growing economy.  I think we'll find this agreement results in as much investment into the Japanese economy as we saw in Brazil in the past few years."

11 February 1913:  South of the Marquesa Islands

"I get the impression we've met before", Capitan de Navio Rafael San Martino remarked as he extended his hand to the captain of the survey ship.  "Rafael San Martino."

"Capitan - five years have passed and still you lurk in the central Pacific", the civilian replied.  "Praxedes Jordana, with Ibanez and Associates.  We met when my team began surveying for a port in Avarua?"

"Good to see you again, Senor", San Martino said.

"And you.  I understand that nothing came out of my work?"

"Pago Pago was a much better location", San Martino confirmed, "And as you're undoubtedly aware, there's a fair-sized port there now."

"This is true", Jordana said with a nod.  "Your ship?"

"Yes - probably not for much longer, though.  I have a sense I might be heading home for a desk job soon", San Martino said. 

"My condolences", the civilian said.

San Martino shrugged.  "Five years out here is long enough.  Much as I like it here, I'm stagnating career-wise.  Not to mention personally - my family parents are appalled that I'm still unmarried."  He grimaced, then asked, "So, what brings you here?  Obviously not a port."

Jordana shook his head.  "We are surveying for an undersea telegraph cable.  As I understand it, they're going to lay from Esmeraldas through the Galapagos, onto Avarua and to Pago Pago", Jordana explained.

"And perhaps onward to the DKB", San Martino said.  "That'd be kind of logical - the Swiss are the only ones with a Trans-Pacific cable, so there must be some room for competition."

[The Rock Doctor]

12 February 1913:  Cartagena

The Ministry of Defence was headquartered at a refurbished colonial-era barracks a few hundred metres inland from the modern fortifications overlooking Cartagena's harbour.  The Minister's office itself offered a grand view of both the civilian and military sections of the port, and Sir Edmund Fitzroy had found the view quite captivating since inheriting the position from Ricardo Alizandro several weeks earlier.  Consequently, he and Admiral de Irujo were standing at the windows, looking out, as their meeting began.

Nodding in the direction of the miiltary shipyard - where the battleships Furioso and Glorioso, and armored cruiser Matador were in various stages of fitting out - Fitzroy remarked, "I'm curious, Admiral:  it's my understanding that once those three ships and Warrior are completed, we'll be deleting two predreadnoughts and four armored cruisers from the roster."

"From active service, Minister, not necessarily the roster", Admiral de Irujo replied.

Sir Edmund nodded.  "We may be thinking on the same wavelength, then", he said.  "I was going to ask if there were alternatives to scrapping them."

de Irujo replied, "There are.  One option is to place them in reserve, leaving them available for wartime activation.  This would not necessarily be the best use of them, however, since the Poderoso class battleships are already quite obsolete and the cruisers are only slightly better off.  None of them would fit in with our current battleline or armored cruiser squadrons without being burdens.  Fortunately, there happen to be alternatives."

"Such as?"

"A target ship - its existing protection supplemented by concrete and either manned by a skeleton crew or by radio control - would be a useful asset in training our gunners", de Irujo explained.  "A Poderoso class battleship, given its already sturdy protective scheme, would be a reasonable fit to this role."

"How much would that cost?", Sir Edmund queried.

"Probably not a great deal - it's mostly concrete, plus the control mechanism", de Irujo replied.  "I can have it costed out in more detail."

"Please", the Minister replied.  "What about the other battleship?"

"Truthfully, I was thinking about a museum ship.  We have precious few of those.  There would be a minimal cost with keeping her in presentable condition."

"Which ship would do which?"

"Poderoso has the more storied career, so she'd be logical as the museum.  Resuelto would be the target."

Sir Edmund nodded.  "That sounds reasonable.  Now, the cruisers - two Colombian, two Jamaican.  All old."

"They are that", de Irujo said.  "Old, slow, short-ranged.  There's a school of thought that we should emulate the Confederates and rebuild some as tenders.  It is less expensive than building new tenders, and somewhat faster.  On the other hand, the end result is still an old hull which is already twenty or so years of age.

"There's also been the suggestion that we refit one or two into command ships for amphibious operations.  It would be necessary to remove the centre turret from the ship to counter the weight of new fire control, wireless, and command facilities.  Alternately, we scrap the ships and employ the main battery in a new-build ship designed for the purpose.  From this perspective, using the Jamaican ships is more attractive as we continue to plan around 234mm guns rather than the 240mm guns used in the Colombian ships", de Irujo said.

"I assume that retaining the current ship would be less expensive than building new", Sir Edmund commented.

"It's not quite that simple, Minister", replied the Admiral.  "All of the armored cruisers are due for a basic refit, so that expense offsets part of the new construction cost.  If the guns are re-used - and they can be if the mission is to shoot up shore targets - those are cost-neutral.  Finally, if we scrap the ship, there's some value to be had from the scrap, which can offset the construction cost.  From the non-monetary perspective, the new ships is also more reliable mechanically, and has a longer service life ahead of it."

"So I would need to see new designs versus reconstructed designs, and have some way to think of the intangibles in tangible terms", Sir Edmund concluded.  "You've a year to present me something, then, as those armored cruisers have no more than that before they are replaced."

[The Rock Doctor]

18 January 1913:  Colon

Juan Cardinal Rodriguez noted the entrance of two well-dressed strangers into the restaurant.  "I believe Ignacio is arrived", he remarked.

Felix Cardinal Romero, Archbishop of Havana, turned around in his seat to examine the fellows in the doorway.  "Yes, I believe so - and none too soon."

Rodriguez nodded.  Down the pier, the liner was already admitting passengers in anticipation of the afternoon departure.  If the three cardinals were going to be assured of reaching Europe in time for the conclave, they'd have to be aboard when the lines were cast off.

Ignacio Cardinal Chiriboga strode into the restaurant a moment later.  At sixty-three, he was the youngest of the three, and indeed one of the youngest members of the College of Cardinals.  He approached the table with a smile on his face and embraced first Romero and then Rodriguez.  "A pleasure to see you both, despite the occasion", the Archbishop of Quito said.

"Likewise", Rodriquez replied.  "We were starting to wonder if you would arrive in time."

"I was not concerned", Chiriboga answered.  "If I had failed to make this sailing, I could wait here for whatever vessel our brother in Lima has boarded.  It is he - and our brother in Bueno Aires - who will be challenged to arrive in time."

"This is true", Romero said.  "They have the greatest distance to travel.  In their shoes, however, I expect I'd have been planning to travel ever since the Holy Father was assaulted."

"Yes", Chiriboga mused.  "Any word on where we are to meet?"

"No", Rodriguez replied.  "My staff are reserving berths for us to both Avignon and Rome as a contingency."

"Any word on potential candidates?"

The question ought to have been mildly scandalous, but both Rodriguez and Romero had dabbled in politics for some time and were not unfamiliar with its quibbles.  "No", Rodriguez repeated.  "Though we can be certain that both the Italians and French will have a preferred candidate from amongst them.  It will remain to be seen whether there are others."

The three were silent a moment, perhaps contemplating the fact that, barring an unexpected candidate from outside the College, five percent of the candidates to assume the role of pontiff were seated at their table.

"We will have much time to discuss this our voyage", Romero said at last.  "Let us settle our bills and be on our way."

[The Rock Doctor]

9 March 1913:  North of Ciudad Jorge

"I would - once again - like to voice my objections to this exercise", Capitan de Fregata Bartolome Acosta said to the civilian project leader.

The civilian, who stood beside Acosta on the observation platform of the cruiser Bucaramanga, wearily scribbled some notes on to his clipboard.  "Your objections are, again, noted", the man replied irritibly.

"Good", Acosta replied, watching with trepidation as the airship A-4 drew ever closer to his ship's stern.

"For God's sake, Captain, it's a simple manuever.  The airship approaches from astern, simulates a docking with your aft mast, and then moves away", the civilian exclaimed.  "It'll be over in less than a minute."

"And why is this necessary?"

"The Armada is interested in options for interacting with, and extending the operating radius of, its airships.  In theory, the airship would dock with a mooring mast, and a fuel line would be run up to the gondola to fill its tanks."  The civilian gestured towards the airship.  "Given that we're steaming into the wind at flank speed, and the airship is only just moving faster than us, the approach can be made relatively slowly.  In theory, it should be safe."

The airship's nose was almost above the stern now, not more than fifty metres overhead.  The black coal smoke billowing out of the cruiser's three funnels was swirling around the airship, which in turn was lurching about somewhat.  Below, in the airship's shadow, the cruiser's gunners gaped upward or fidgeted nervously.

"Is the, uh, shaking, normal?"

"It's not totally unexpected.  The hot smoke moves erratically in the cooler air."

The gondola of the airship was now in the smoke plume, its nose closing in on the mast.  Acosta gritted his teeth as the airship began bobbing.  "How the hell are the pilots supposed to see anything at this point?", Acosta asked, gritting his teeth.

"We'll interview them afterward to see how serious an issue it is", the civilian replied.  "Uh...", he added with some alarm as a burst of sparks burped out of the second funnel.

"Shit...", Acosta growled as the sparks rose up towards the airship.

The airship pilots appeared to notice the rising embers; the pitch of its engines changed and the airship leapt forward, its nose pitching downward.  "There'- the embers will pass underneath", the civilian proclaimed.

"Yeah, but-", Acosta began, and then the airship's bow plowed into the mast.  Its internal framing broke off the tip of the mast, but the new, jagged end ripped into the airship's envelope.  The engines' pitch changed again and a stream of water began pouring out of the gondola.

"They're dumping ballast", the civilian stated as the airship ponderously rose up off the mast.  "How far are we from the coast?"

"Ten miles, give or take - can they make it back to the city?", Acosta blurted.

"I can't tell how much damage there is", the civilian muttered nervously, as the A-4 began turning south, its stern starting to rise upward as the crew fought to maintain control of the wounded craft.

Acosta grimaced.  "Number One!", he shouted, "Rig the ship for rescue operations - and have somebody see if the mast is stable or not!"

A minute later, the Bucaramanga came round to follow the dying A-4.

[Walter]

Hmmm.... looks to me that the wrong type of ship was used for the maneuver...
... and was the airship's designation changed from A-4 to "L-4" to indicate it was Landing in the water? :D

[The Rock Doctor]

The bureaucracy shouldn't be moving that fast - I'll go back in and edit.

[ctwaterman]

I thought so myself when reading the Civilian Contractor and wondering if someone thought about what exactly comes out of the stacks of a coal burning warship.... ;D

[The Rock Doctor]

4 April 1913:  Pago Pago

TO:  R SANMARTINO, CDF
FRM:  DIR HR, PACFLT
DATE:  19130404

1.  EFFECTIVE 4 APR 13 YOU ARE RELIEVED OF CMD CP BOYACA STOP CDF G PALMIERO ASSUMES CMD CP BOYACA STOP

2.  REPORT ABOARD AK SENORA MARIA 19130406 FOR TRANSPORT TO ESMERALDAS

3.  REPORT TO ARMADA HQ IN CARTAGENA 19130515 FOR REASSIGNMENT STOP YOU MAY CONSIDER PERIOD BETWEEN ARRIVAL ESMERALDAS AND 19130515 AS PERSONAL LEAVE STOP

MSG ENDS

[The Rock Doctor]

6 May 1913:  Cartagena

"So - the logic behind selling our old cruisers to Maoria and Egypt is?", queried President Alizandro.

"A more immediate realization of the value of the ships - in the case of the Campeon class, before they've even left service", Sir Edmund Fitzroy responded.  "Given that we were shy on dollars as a result of my predecessor's deal with the Hapsburgers, it seemed prudent."

"Are we worried about the Maorians and Egyptians having them?"

Fitzroy shook his head.  "We queried our allies about the Maorians and they were fine.  We didn't ask about the Egyptians since none of our allies have ever expressed any issues with them."

"It might have been prudent to ask the Hapsburgers", Rey noted.  "We're not allied with them, but we are friends."

"I suppose so.  I'll keep that in mind for the future."  The President's eyebrows rose, so Sir Edmund continued, "The Egyptians are apparently out looking to buy.  New, of course, but I was contemplating offering some of our surplus small craft for reasonable prices as an alternative."

"Define 'small craft'?"

"Torpedo boats, our oldest submarines.  An old protected cruiser or two, maybe."

"I thought you were looking at turning the cruisers into blimp tenders", the President replied.

"You'll recall the trial did not work out so well", Sir Edmund replied.  "I may seek authorization for a purpose-built experimental vessel instead."

"Right - forgot", Rey said.  "Now, you had some battleship designs for me?"

"Yes", Sir Edmund replied, producing a thin folio from his briefcase.  "The underlying conclusion is that the next class - currently unnamed, but desginated as the Seventeen type for now - will use the same thirty-five centimetre guns now being fitted to the Furioso class ships."

"Stop right there - is the seventeen a reference to the year 1917?"

"No, Sir - that would be the ship's hull number under the current classification scheme."

"And the guns - are they as large as anything else out there?"

"The largest guns currently in use elsewhere are thirty-eight centimetre weapons.  We have no such weapon in-house, but can licence build the thirty-five centimetre weapons.  There are some advantages to the type - specifically, we can fit more of them."

The President didn't look entirely satisfied.  "Are we at least planning to make bigger guns?"

"Yes, we are", Sir Edmund confirmed.

"Good", the President said.  "Okay, tell me about the designs."

"We have identified five options at this time.  The most cost-effective option is a simple repeat of the Furioso class.  Construction is limited only by available funding and slipways."

"Mmm-hmm", Rey muttered.  "Will they stack up?"

"Against foreign construction?  Not across the board.  The French and Baltic Confederation are pursuing much larger ships, and we expect the Rohirrim and Confederates to follow suit."  Sir Edmund paused, but the President merely nodded.  "The second option is a modified Furioso, with a sixth turret.   This ship would cost about twenty percent more than a Furioso, but would have better protection and speed to show for it.  Again, there are no technical limitations to be addressed before we could construct such a ship."

"And it would compare...?"

"Comparable to current Rohirrim designs, and superior to the current Confederate Alabama class.  Still lacking in comparison to the largest European designs."   

The President frowned.  "I get the sense it will not be easy to be on the cutting edge of battleship building."

"It never is, Mister President.  These are expensive and complicated devices."

"Sometimes I think it'd be easier if we were just a big landlocked state", Rey mused.

"If you'd started out that way, you'd have taken somebody's coast away by now", Sir Edmund said in riposte.  Rey snorted and pointed to the folio.  "Okay, the third design is similar to the second, but incorporates four triple turrets rather than six twin turrets, for more efficient layout and weight savings."

"Do we have a triple turret?"

"We'll be starting work on one in July.  This will prevent construction from starting any sooner than January of 1915, although to be fair, there is only limited funding unallocated from the 1914 program anyway."

"So we're not necessarily losing ground, then", the President asked.

"No, Sir - bearing in mind that we can not complete for numbers with the Rohirrim or French on account of their largest economies."

"Figures", Rey muttered.

"The fourth design retains the layout of the Furioso class, but with triple turrets.  The overall firepower is fifty percent greater, with a similar increase in cost that also allows better protection and speed."

"That will be costly - will it compare?"

"Admiral de Irujo would put it up against anything we know of right now - even the French ship with heavier guns, on account of the improved layout.  Of course, we can't predict with assurance what capital ships are being contemplated by other powers as their next generation."

"Good.  For that kind of money, that's the answer I'd have to hear.  What's your last one?"

"The last design puts sixteen guns in four turrets, on a hull slightly smaller than the fourth option due to weight savings.  It is a more efficient distribution of weapons than the fourth option, but comes with the drawback that we are two years or more from having the werewithal to actually construct such a ship."

"That's a bit long", the President remarked.  "So you want a decision now?"

"That isn't necessary", Sir Edmund replied.  "We won't need a decision until the 1914 budget is finalized, and that is some months away still." 

[The Rock Doctor]

Warning:  Long, with more cursing than usual

14 May 1913:  Cartagena

The world was spinning as Capitan de Fregata Rafael San Martino opened his eyes - well, the left one, anyway - and surveyed his surroundings.  It was evident that he was not in his hotel room:  there was entirely too much concrete, and the iron bars hadn't been there earlier. 

"Hmm", he muttered, and then winced as most of his body registered pain. 

Given the visual evidence, it seemed that he might be in a cell.  Olefactory evidence - the smells of feces, urine, vomit, and alcohol - suggested a possible explanation for why he was in a cell.  Audio evidence, in the form of approaching footfalls, hinted that there might be some further information on the way.

He attempted to sit up, failed, tried again, and managed to prop himself up on his left elbow, feeling somewhat nauseous.  The footfalls arrived, and two men came into view:  one wearing a constabulary sergeant's uniform, the other in the livery of a vice-admiral in the Armada.  The latter was similarly limited to one eye, the other being covered by a black leather patch.

"That's him", the Vice-Admiral rasped, his one eyeball drilling a hole into San Martino.  "I have a carriage waiting outside.  Clean him up and have him brought out there."

"Right away, Admiral", the sergeant replied.  The admiral turned and walked back the way he'd came, leaving the sergeant to unlock the cell door and snap his fingers.  Two constables marched into the cell, picked him up in a rough carry, and hauled him out, his feet dragging behind him until they deposited him in a shower stall.  His uniform was roughly removed and dropped into a bag, and then one of the constables turned a hose on him, blasting him with lukewarm water.

"Come on, scrub yourself off, or we'll be here all damn day", the constable growled.  San Martino was too unwell to be of much assistance, but the frequent sprays of water to the head did have the effect of clearing his mind somewhat.

"Oh, shit...", he groaned.

"Yup", the constable agreed, continuing to spray him.  "And if you think I'm enjoying this", and he stepped forward to kick San Martino in the ribs, "Think again."

When the water stopped flowing, the constable said, "There's a towel and clothes on the bench.  You've got five minutes to get ready - do not make me do it for you."

San Martino struggled to his feet, one hand against the wall for balance.  He lurched over to the bench, sat down hard, and began drying himself off.  The constable watched impassively, his right hand tapping a rythym against the baton tucked in his belt.  "About time, sunshine", he said when San Martino had finally buttoned up the simple cotton shirt provided to him.  "Let's go.  The brass is waiting for you."

He walked down the hall under his own power, though the constable held his left arm as a precaution.  The cells were filled with a variety of civilians and, in one case, a group of roughed-up soldiers.  Curiously, the three conscious soldiers threw crisp salutes as San Martino went past.

"They know my rank?", he asked quietly.

"They met you last night", the constable replied.  "Now shut up."

He was led out of the building towards a horse carriage, where a petty officer and a seaman stood waiting.  "Thank you, Sergeant", the petty officer said as San Martino was handed over to the seaman.

"My fucking pleasure", the constable said.  He turned and walked back to the building without further comment.

"Let's get him inside", the petty officer said to the seaman.  After San Martino was dumped on a bench inside, the door was closed and the carriage began to move, clattering along the cobblestone roads of the harbour district.  Thankfully, he was alone - no petty officer, and more importantly, no vice-admiral.

His relief lasted only as long as the trip.  The carriage pulled up in front of the Armada's headquarters, and the petty officer steered him towards a side entrance.  "How hung over are you?", he asked.

"Quite", San Martino answered.

"Well, get over it, and quickly.  Your career's on the line", the petty officer said.

"What happened?", San Martino grunted.

"I don't know", the petty officer said.  "But Vice-Admiral Castillo doesn't visit the drunk-tank for just anybody.  If you were one of his favorites, I'd know it - so I assume you're on his shit list instead."

"Shit", San Martino muttered.

"That's what I said.  Now, a word of advice:  whatever you did, be a man about it.  The Admiral'll see through you if you try to feed him a story, and that'll be the end of you." 

"Thanks."

The petty officer shrugged.  "Don't mention it.  Now, we're here.  Can you stand on your own?"

"Umm...", San Martino said hesitantly, and the petty officer slapped either side of his face with callused hands.  "Hey...striking a superior officer..."

"Just getting your blood flowing a bit.  If you remember it later, you'll appreciate it."  The petty officer opened a door, and San Martino slowly followed him inside.  "Capitan de Fregata San Martino to see the Admiral", he said to the secretary.

"I'll show him inside", the secretary replied disdainfully.  "This way, Sir."

The office of Vice-Admiral Ernesto Castillo was furnished with an array of memorabilia, the centrepiece of which was his desk, apparently built out of old armor plate.  Castillo - the Armada's long-time head of human resources - was sitting back in a leather chair, smoking a cigar.  His one eye tracked San Martino's entry, and did not blink as San Martino saluted as crisply as he could manage.

"Thank you, Jaime, that will be all.  Sit, Captain."  The salute was not returned.  Castillo scowled at him, saying nothing, and San Martino fought not to breach the silence with some inane comment.  Finally, Castillo said, "You were to speak with one of my deputies tomorrow about your new posting.  You were going to be promoted to capitan de navio, and assigned to command a torpedo-boat squadron.  I have since rescinded these orders."

San Martino grimaced. 

"What do you remember about last night?", Castillo asked.

"Err...", San Martino stammered, buying a moment to concentrate.  "I was out with friends, Sir.  I hadn't seen them in years because of my posting.  We...had dinner, then went out."

"And then?"

"I don't know, Sir."  A wave of nausea rushed over him, and he held a hand to his mouth. 

When it subsided, he looked up to find the Vice-Admiral glaring at him.  "Let me fill the gap, then, as best I understand it", the older man said.  "You went pub-crawling with four friends, all of whom are civilians.  You wound up at a dive near the Arsenal, proceeding to get drunk on bourbon.  At approximately oh-one hundred hours, you and your friends engaged in an altercation with nine or more soldiers assigned to the Capital Guard Corps.  In that altercation you committed, and I quote the constabulary's report, 'astonishing acts of brutal violence while shouting in a foreign language'.  The interior of the establishment was essentially destroyed, and five soldiers were taken to the military hospital with serious injuries."  Castillo leaned forward and asked, "Does that help, Captain?"

"Yes, Sir, but I don't remember it", San Martino replied.

"Well, no, Captain, I wouldn't think so, given your drunkenness and split head", Castillo replied.  "The owner of the establishment has declined to press charges - he thinks it'd be bad for business, and he's insured anyway.  The soldiers have also declined to press charges - the senior non-commissioned officer, in fact, refused to press charges.  Apparently, he was impressed that a naval officer could be a, and I quote again, 'Drunken Master'.  I have no idea what that is supposed to be, but it obviously means something to them."

He continued to stare at San Martino, who in turn wondered whether the old bastard was slightly amused, or just sadistic.

Castillo reached forward, and picked a manila folder up off his desk.  "Of course, you're still subject to military discipline, Captain, and as it happens, your file already speaks to it.  Have a look at the entry for April of 1901."  He handed the folder to San Martino, who studied it through his one functioning eye (the other, he'd concluded, was obviously swollen shut).

"That refers to the Niuew Matterhorn incident, Sir", San Martino replied.  "But...I don't see what you mean."

"There's a stamp beside the date", Castillo said.

There was indeed.  "A shell, Sir - because it was a combat situation."

Castillo smiled grimly.  "No, Captain, not a shell - a bullet.  Your conduct in that action was deemed so excreable that the political leadership contemplated your summary execution.  In the end, it was argued that this was excessive, and you have instead been at the Minister's pleasure ever since."

Wide-eyed, San Martino blurted, "They what?  I'm what?"

"You are at the Minister's pleasure:  not just your career, your life.  And, had a report on this morning's incident reached the desk of the previous defence minister, I've little doubt that the payroll office would be deducting the cost of your execution and burial from your final paycheque at this very moment."

San Martino could only stare.  Castillo reached out for the file, and San Martino handed it back to him.   "Fortunately for you", Castillo said, "I was in early this morning and saw the file before it moved up to the Minister's office.  Not that I expect the current Minister would do more than order a court-martial, but one never knows." 

The Vice-Admiral set the file down, stubbed out his cigar, and leaned back in his chair.  "Captain, I've been in this office a long time, and I've made it my mission to ensure that the senior officers in this service deserve the responsibilities assigned to them.  You got lucky after the Nieuw Matterhorn incident because your conduct in the...PESN pirate incident...was deemed proper.  Your career afterward - that long time out in the territories - was a test to see if that was a fluke event or if you were really fit for the senior ranks.  The consequence of this morning's incident is that you are judged to have failed the test."

Appalled, San Martino exclaimed, "Sir!"

"So, I'm having you dishonorably discharged from the Armada", Castillo concluded.

"Sir!", San Martino repeated.  "Please re-consider - sixteen years of loyal service lost because of one mistake?"

"You got drunk and disgraced the Armada", Castillo countered.

"Yes, Sir, I clearly did - but should that cancel out all that I've done beforehand?  I spent years out in the middle of nowhere, establishing a presence for this nation where it had never been.  Not a single ship, man, or bolivar was lost to hostile actions in my time in the Pacific!"

"That was the past, Captain.  This is the present", Castillo noted.

"The past twelve years were a better indicator of my dedication and abilities than the past twelve hours, Sir", San Martino replied.  "Did you not make mistakes, Sir?"

"Absolutely", Castillo replied.  "The difference was, they were not stupid mistakes."

The two men were silent for a few seconds, staring at each other. 

San Martino said, "Admiral:  this is my chosen career.  It has been since I stepped aboard the Vencedora as a boy.  I ask you - implore you - do not cut me down because I have stumbled."

Castillo regarded him for a moment, then reached for his humidor.  "Mister San Martino, I have nothing for a man with your record at this time.  You are dismissed."

[Desertfox]

Harsh... now if I still had New Switzerland, a non-descript man would be approaching him this very moment, with a very lucrative offer, but... hmm, I don't have NS but I do have Captain Taugon... A non-descript man WILL be approaching him with a very lucrative offer.

[Tanthalas]

Harsh... now if I still had New Switzerland, a non-descript man would be approaching him this very moment, with a very lucrative offer, but... hmm, I don't have NS but I do have Captain Taugon... A non-descript man WILL be approaching him with a very lucrative offer.

it already happend from the NS we were politley refused.

[The Rock Doctor]

8 June 1913:  Cartagena

Vice-Admiral Castillo's voice called out of his office:  "Is my calender clear, Roberto?"

"Yes, Sir.  There are no meetings scheduled for the remainder of the afternoon."

"Is San Martino still there?"

The secretary looked over at Rafael San Martino, who was suddenly alert after several hours of reading technical manuals.  "Yes, Sir, he is", the secretary replied.

"Send him in."

The secretary just bobbed his head towards Castillo's door.  San Martino stood, stretched, and made his way to the admiral's office.

Castillo, as normal, resembled a scarecrow in uniform.  "Sit down", he growled.  "An interesting approach to your dismissal, Senor San Martino.  I do not believe I've ever had somebody sit in one of those chairs for more than three days, and there you've been for the past three-plus weeks, every time I've passed by.  Does your back hurt?"

"Yes, Sir", San Martino replied.

"Good", Castillo said.  "So you've got a stubborn streak.  Am I to be impressed?"

San Martino pondered that for a moment.  "I don't know, Sir.  It seemed like an improvement on just giving up."

"Conceded", Castillo replied.  "Have you been enjoying the big city in your off-time?"

"I've been keeping to myself, mostly, Sir, but I've been approached twice with job offers - which is curious since I haven't been looking for work."

Castillo frowned and wrote down a scribble on his notepad.  "I'll have that looked into.  Any idea who?"

"The one identified himself as being from the New Swiss embassy, Sir."

"Figures", Castillo muttered.  "The other?"

"He didn't say, Sir.  Talked about large sums of money, but never said who the employer was.  I can't imagine why he thought I'd accept such a proposition."

"Was he talking about serving on a ship?"

"Yes Sir."

"Probably a pirate.  Taugon's the most prominent of them, but there're others.  Good to know."  Castillo set the pen down, and sat back in his chair.   "So, back to you.  If nothing else, your passive-aggressive demonstration has ensured that I don't forget about you.  I have decided, with some trepidation, to rescind your discharge and instead place you on administrative leave until the end of this month.  This will give me some time to find an assignment for you, one that I truly would not wish upon anybody else.  The Armada has some creative minds; there are going to be a few ideas for me to consider."

"Thank you, Sir", San Martino replied.

"Don't thank me yet", Castillo said.  "Now, get the hell out of my office, and don't come back until I send for you."