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Vince
Vice Admiral
Posts: 1574
Joined: Fri Apr 09, 2010 11:43 pm
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SharkHunter wrote: Excellent reference. I'd offer a surmise with an implied question -- all the way back from Flag in Exile, by the way -- which is that the flag captain is the ranking captain no matter seniority in his/her division even if the flag officer is taken out, and that the question about Honor's assumption of command was that she assumed it for the entire set of Hancock forces in spite of Capt. Rubenstein still being alive though incommunicado. She' have still had command and control over Nike's division mate, no matter what...yes/no?
In theory, command is supposed to pass to the senior officer if the flag commander is a casualty. In practice, there can be mitigating circumstances where a junior officer can retain command instead of passing it to the senior officer: The Short Victorious War, Chapter 31 wrote:And a fourth deadly splinter ripped into the back of Admiral Mark Sarnow's command chair.
It sheared through the chair, spinning end-for-end like a white-hot buzz-saw. The impact snapped the admiral's shock frame and hurled him forward, but the splinter caught him in midair. It severed his right leg just above the knee and mangled his left calf, chunks of the chair itself blasted into his back, and his ribcage shattered like a wicker basket as he impacted on the master plot and bounced back like a broken doll.
Samuel Webster flung himself toward his admiral while slamming blast doors chopped off the cyclone of escaping air. Sarnow's skin suit had already inflated emergency tourniquets on either thigh, and his scream was a faint, thready exhalation as Webster moved him gently to check his life-sign monitors.
The admiral stared up at his com officer, fighting the searing agony. "Don't scatter!" he gasped with all his failing strength, and his hand plucked at Webster's arm like a fevered child's. "Tell them not to scatter!"
Webster's face was white as Sarnow's terrible injuries registered, and his fingers darted across the skin suit's med panel. Blessed relief spread through the admiral, deadening the pain. Unconsciousness beckoned, but he fought it as he had the pain, clinging to awareness, as Ernestine Corell appeared beside him.
"Don't scatter!" he gasped again, and Corell looked at Webster.
"What did he say?" she demanded, and Webster shrugged helplessly.
"I don't know, Ma'am." Grief clogged his voice, and he touched Sarnow's shoulder gently. "I can't make it out."
Corell leaned closer, and Sarnow tried again, desperate to get the order out, but the blackness took him first.
* * *
Damage reports flooded into Nike's bridge, and Honor heard herself acknowledging them—calm and controlled, like a stranger—while her shocked eyes clung to the blank screen by her right knee.
She tore her gaze from it and looked at her own tactical repeater. CIC was gone, but Tactical's fire control systems had taken over the plot. She saw the cruisers Sorcerer and Merlin racing into new positions, taking up station on Nike's flanks to support her point defense as the task group recognized the Peeps' new target, and her flying thoughts were clear and cold.
She knew what Sarnow had been about to say. She'd been his tactical alter ego too long not to know . . . but he hadn't said it.
Command passed with the admiral. She knew that, too, yet there were no flag officers left. Captain Rubenstein was senior officer now, but Onslaught's gravitics were gone, her com section heavily damaged; she could neither receive the sensor platforms' transmissions nor pass orders effectively . . . and Rubenstein didn't know Danislav had arrived or what the admiral had intended.
She felt George Monet watching her, knew he was waiting for her order to inform Rubenstein he was in command, and said nothing.
Field of Dishonor, Prologue wrote:"Would you call the situation desperate, Captain?"
"I would call it . . . serious, Sir," Harrington responded after a moment's thought.
There was a brief silence, as if her invisible questioner were waiting for her to say something more. But her detached calm was impregnable, and Commodore Capra sighed.
"Very well, Captain Harrington. The situation was 'serious,' the enemy had altered course to pursue you, and Agamemnon had been destroyed. Were you in contact with Nike's flag bridge and Admiral Sarnow?"
"Yes, Sir, I was."
"So it was at this time he started to order the task group to scatter?"
"I believe that was his intention, Sir, but if so, he was interrupted before he actually gave orders to that effect."
"And how was he interrupted, Captain?"
"By a report from our sensor net, Sir. Our platforms had picked up the arrival of Admiral Danislav's dreadnoughts."
"I see. And did Admiral Sarnow then order the task group not to scatter?"
"No, Sir. He was wounded before he could pass any other orders," the quiet, unshadowed soprano replied.
"And how was he wounded, Captain? What were the circumstances?" The off-camera voice was almost irritated now, as if frustrated by Harrington's clinical professionalism.
"Nike was hit several times by enemy fire, Sir. One hit took out Boat Bay One, CIC, and Flag Bridge. Several members of the Admiral's staff were killed, and he himself was severely injured."
"He was rendered unconscious?"
"Yes, Sir."
"And did you pass command of the task group to the next senior officer?"
"I did not, Sir."
"You retained command?" Harrington nodded wordlessly. "Why, Captain?"
"In my judgment, Sir, the tactical situation was too serious to risk confusion in the chain of command. I was in possession of knowledge—the fact that Admiral Danislav had arrived—which might not be known to Captain Rubenstein, the next senior officer, and time was very limited."
"So you took it upon yourself to assume command of the entire task group in Admiral Sarnow's name?" Capra's question was sharp—not condemnatory, but with the air of making a crucial point—and Harrington nodded once more.
"I did, Sir," she said, without even a flicker of emotion as she admitted violating at least five separate articles of war.
"Why, Captain?" Capra pressed. "What made the situation time critical enough to justify such an action on your part?"
"We were approaching our preplanned scatter point, Sir. Admiral Danislav's arrival gave us the opportunity to lead the enemy into a position from which he could not escape interception, but only if we remained concentrated and offered him a target worth pursuing. Given the damage I knew Captain Rubenstein's com facilities had suffered, I judged there was too great a risk that the task group would scatter as previously planned before Captain Rubenstein could be fully apprised of the situation and assert tactical control."
"I see." There was another lengthy moment of silence, broken only by what might have been the soft, off-camera sound of shuffling paper. Then Capra spoke once more.
***Snip***
Silence returned, hovering for long, still moments, and then Vice Admiral Cordwainer cleared her throat and looked at Sir Lucius Cortez.
"I don't think there's any question that Lady Harrington exceeded her own authority in failing to pass command, Sir Lucius. At the same time, however, there can be neither doubt about nor excuse for Lord Young's actions. I endorse Admiral Parks' recommendation without reservation."
"Agreed." Cortez's voice was grim, his eyes and mouth even tighter than what they'd just seen seemed to justify, then he shook himself. "As for Lady Harrington's actions, Admiral Sarnow, Admiral Parks, the First Space Lord, Baroness Morncreek, and Her Majesty herself have all endorsed them. I don't think you need to concern yourself over them, Alyce."
Italics are the author's, boldface and underlined text is my emphasis. Boldface is the Book (in theory) that if the flag officer is incapacitated, command passes to the senior officer. Underlined text are the extenuating and mitigating circumstances (in practice) that allowed Honor to retain command, when according to the Book, she should have passed command to Captain Rubenstein when Rear Admiral Sarnow became a casualty. -------------------------------------------------------------
History does not repeat itself so much as it echoes.
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