Convoy (The Shelby Logan Chronicles Book 1)

by Chris Hechtl

  “Okay.”

  “At the least holding out will make them work doubly hard on everything else on our wish list.”

  “Okay. What do I say?”

  “For the time being, nothing. I'm occupied so I have the final decision. They'll have to wait. Don't bow to pressure tactics or anything. I'll figure something out with you and the staff when I'm done here.”

  “Understood, ma'am.”

  “Good. Now I get to go to bed with that stuck in my head. And the final is tomorrow,” the captain grumbled.

  “Sorry about that,” Cynthia replied, genuinely contrite about adding to the captain's workload.

  “Not your fault, Trollop, you are just doing your job. I'll cope. Good night,” she said.

  “Good night, ma'am,” Cynthia said as she cut the circuit.

  ]][#]]]{OO}===}==>

  The dozen students were assembled after the final battle critique in the classroom. They waited with baited breath as the commandant came forward. Shelby was surprised to see the Neochimp had artificial legs; he had disdained pants and shoes for spring legs. He moved like a dancer on them, or a furry stork. There was a story there; she knew he was a Lemnos officer and had been a lieutenant JG when the admiral had found them but …

  “Relax all of you. It is with great pleasure that I announce that you all passed the course, much to our efforts to flush you out. If you can handle what we threw at you here, you should be able to handle it out there,” the commander said as he took the lectern. Shelby blinked out of her revere and then smiled. She looked around and noted additional smiles or signals of relief. The staff started to applaud. After a moment, the students joined in.

  When the applause ended, the commandant nodded. “Each of you have been given a gold star in your record. I'll be doing the individual final critiques in a moment,” the commander said. “Commander Contenov, let's start with you,” he said as he motioned the commander forward and then waved his hand to a place near the lectern where a stack of documents was piled ready.

  Shelby sat back with relief at the knowledge that she'd passed. She watched as the commandant and commander spoke for a minute or so, then the commandant handed the commander a certificate and then they shook hands. They exchanged salutes and then the commander turned and waved his certificate to the others and then followed an aide out the open door.

  One by one the other officers were called up. Shelby realized they were doing it in alphabetical order. Halfway through the pack it was her turn.

  “Since you've already been in combat and commanded in combat, this seems redundant to some. But I assure you it was worth the time invested when it comes time for future promotions. Promotion boards seem to like that extra polish,” Commander Bronson said.

  “Good to know,” Shelby replied with a nod.

  “I hope you picked up a few tricks and learned a few techniques while dusted off old skills,” the commandant said as he handed her the certificate.

  Shelby nodded. The hot wash after each exercise had been followed by a detailed critique some time later. She had to write her own critique of her mistakes as well. “Oh, I did indeed. It was definitely worth the trip and price of admission; it beats shuffling paperwork and trying hard not to strangle people for getting in my way,” Shelby said, cracking a smile. Then her smile faded. “But, unfortunately, I've got to go back into the trenches once more.”

  “Good luck with that, Captain,” Commander Bronson said, extending a hand. Shelby took it and shook it.

  ]][#]]]{OO}===}==>

  Commodore X'll'rr sat in her office with Commander Ch'n'x and looked over the files unhappily. Things were coming together but slowly, oh so slowly. Getting the hulls was only part of the equation; she also needed the logistics to support them and the command team, which was why the commander had stopped in. Commander V'x'n'll, the G-3, had recently posted the latest Crusher results.

  Technically, they shouldn't be going over the latest Crusher graduates at all; however, the commander had pulled some strings to get the results. Everyone in the class of twelve had graduated, no surprise there. Even though the students were told it was pass-fail, there was a ranking in who won the most engagements and who stood out. They were not told that ranking and it was in a secured part of their personal files that only senior officers could access.

  “There were twelve, right? Can't I have them all?” the commodore asked plaintively. She knew the answer was no, but if she aimed high enough she might get a number she was satisfied with.

  “Unfortunately, it doesn't work that way and you know it, ma'am,” Commander Ch'n'x stated, signaling second-level reluctance.

  “I see.” The commodore's mandible flexed a few times. “Well, if I have to share, I suppose that I'll share. But I want the best of the crop.”

  “The top percentage …”

  “No, not just the top percentage, I want to factor in combat time, if any, in as well. How many had actual combat experience?”

  “Four.”

  “Okay, I'll want them unless they are at the bottom of the rankings …”

  “Unfortunately, I can only give you one. The other three are taken.”

  “Damn it … can't you shift postings?”

  “That's not my department,” the commander said, signaling second-level reluctance this time mixed with regret. She had gone head-to-head with the lieutenant twice before on the commodore's behalf, and her recent conversation hadn't gone at all well. She had also been politely informed by Commander Garretaj later that day that browbeating and pulling rank on a fellow department head wasn't wise. Especially since said lieutenant was up for a promotion in the next cycle.

  “Okay, okay. So … the top six, no seven …”

  “Two of them are already spoken for TF 2.1. They'll stay here. One is Captain Logan,” the commander replied as she showed the test results.

  “Captain … she was in the top 50 percent?” the Veraxin commodore demanded, signaling first-degree surprise.

  “Actually, she was in the top three. Third of her class, so top 75 percent.”

  “How could a support person beat out line officers?” the commodore demanded, clearly aghast at the concept.

  “She served in combat on Firefly as the ship's chief engineer as well as the ship's XO,” Commander Ch'n'x replied. “She led in combat in Nightingale. She has been on record as having taught tactical courses. She did well, outstanding in the book learning part. The notes about her performance in the sims say she was a bit rusty and tentative early on. She isn't an aggressive person, apparently preferring to assess the situation before diving in, something she holds in common with several other officers,” the commander stated. “In fact, it is that lack of aggression in the early engagements that cost her points and therefore the top two slots.” The commodore waved a truehand to move on. “Moving on … As I mentioned, two of the other officers in her class are already allocated to her mission.”

  “Two … Why so many? Why do they need them?”

  “They requested it, ma'am,” the commander said simply.

  The commodore signaled first-degree refusal. “I'm still having trouble believing she did that well.”

  “Believe it. I checked her scores twice and even watched two of her sims on fast forward. She did well.”

  “The op force must have been off their game,” the commodore mused.

  “I very much doubt that, ma'am. They are due to rotate out this class, however, for their own commands. I know Captain Firefly was one of the guest op force commanders and professors. He didn't go easy on them.”

  “I see. Well then, what can you give me?”

  “I don't have the ship assignments as of yet for the unassigned captains. A few are going on leave now. In fact, they were all assigned a week's leave after their graduation. I believe only a few returned to duty and those already have shipboard assignments. Part of the problem is that many are interested in line postings—cruiser, battlecruiser, and the larger capital ships. Of t
his crop, only one has had carrier experience. He's slated for fortress command.”

  “Can you switch him for someone else? Give me at least someone who passed the course, damn it!”

  “As I said, I'm not BUPERS; Lieutenant Strongbirth is. I can try to pull some strings however and do a bit of horse trading on your behalf, Commodore.”

  “Yes, do,” the commodore said. “In the meantime, shoot me those six officers you mentioned. I'll want to go over their records carefully. And while you are at it, shoot me Logan's records too. I need to see for myself how she achieved what I thought was impossible.”

  “She seems wasted for the position she is in, ma'am,” the commander replied. “I could see her taking on a battlecruiser easily,” the commander said as she bundled the files together and then sent them through her implants to the commodore.

  “Perish the thought. I suppose I should be glad she is going to Tau. Otherwise, she'd want my job …,” the Veraxin said as she started to go over the files.

  Chapter 8

  As the mission planning progressed, Shelby met with the Pyrax G-1, Commander Ch'n'x, to see what ships she was going to be assigned. The ship list was ongoing; she was aware of some high level give and take negotiating going on. She wasn't certain who the sides were. Obviously, Admiral Irons wanted the mission done so she could count him in on her side, but she didn't know how deep he was in the mission for.

  “I've got some bad news for you; you aren't getting everything you wanted,” the Veraxin female said as they took their seats.

  “I didn't expect to get everything, ma'am,” Shelby replied cautiously. She didn't like where the meeting was heading, and it had just begun. It could only go downhill from here she realized with a sinking sensation.

  “Well, I can get you some of it, and for the others, well, I'm going to offer you a compromise,” the Veraxin stated.

  “And that is?” Shelby asked carefully.

  “Obviously, we don't know the entire list now, but I can tell you the Liberty class ships you requested … we just don't have that many available. But, I can throw you a bone and give you a bunch of Dora class ships in their place,” the commander offered.

  Shelby frowned thoughtfully. She didn't like the idea; a Liberty could handle a hell of a lot more than a Dora could. She'd planned on that, and the extra range a Liberty class ship had with its higher grade hyperdrive, larger reactors, and larger fuel capacity.

  “What I can offer you are three Doras for each of the Liberty ships you wanted,” the commander said smoothly.

  “That isn't enough. Three ships per Liberty doesn't add up to the carrying capacity of a Liberty, Commander. You know that,” Shelby said with a frown as she ran the numbers. “I have a lot of large cargo too. We can't fit some of it in a Dora. We've got to have at least two-thirds of what I initially asked for, plus the Doras. Making it all fit though …,” she shook her head.

  “Perhaps a Cervidae or two? We have two available, and we have a couple Clydesdales that I believe we can swap out. They'd need a full maintenance overhaul before they joined your mission, but I can juggle the schedules and free them up. BuShips can do the work I believe.”

  “You'd have to check that with them,” Shelby said slowly. She wasn't sure what was going on; she just smelled a rat and felt her instincts to be cautious and noncommittal was justified. The annoyed buzz from the commander told her she was right. “I'm not keen about those classes.”

  “Let me see what else we can do …,” the commander said as she checked her implants.

  “Take your time,” Shelby said as she sat back. She did a bit of digging through her implants while she waited. It didn't take her long to find out that Commodore X'll'rr of the Eastern Front command didn't want the small ships. Her lips formed a thin hard line as she read the forum post someone had put up.

  Apparently, the commodore, like Shelby, wanted the Liberty class ships, and there was only so many to go around. She checked the ship lists and also found out some of the Doras that the commander was offering her weren't pure freighters at all. They were specialists including several factory ships. Apparently, Commodore X'll'rr wanted only Cabeiri class ships for her support. She sat back as she thought that little nugget of information over, then checked the building lists.

  Warships, especially the capital ships, were the priority in both of the major yards. There were some support ships in the pipeline, but their schedules had been knocked back when priorities had been shifted due to the sudden shifting winds of the war. She frowned thoughtfully. There were some Cabeiri in the pipeline, but they were far from finished. In fact, they weren't scheduled to be completed until after the departure dates of both missions since the ships had such a lower priority.

  She wanted another factory ship, possibly more than one. She also wanted a full-on hospital ship and other proper support ships.

  “I'll take a couple of the Doras, the factory ships,” she said out loud.

  “You will?”

  “Yes. I think they'll work out a little better than the other factory ships I'd planned on taking on. Two ships can be in two different places if necessary,” Shelby said.

  “Yes, yes, indeed,” the Veraxin agreed readily, signaling second-level agreement mixed with a little excitement.

  “I still don't know what is in the pipeline coming to us from Antigua. I guess their end is as up in the air as yours is considering the changing fortunes of the war front,” Shelby mused thoughtfully.

  “Yes. It has thrown our schedules into chaos several times,” the Veraxin agreed, signaling first-degree caution.

  “I see the commodore wants Cabeiri class tenders for her support as well. Well, she can't have Prometheus, she's mine,” the captain said with teeth.

  “I was about to bring that up and ask you to consider changing to another ship,” the Veraxin said.

  “No,” Shelby said flatly.

  “It might become necessary to make that sacrifice, Captain. Consider the good of the war effort,” the Veraxin implored.

  “Denied. This mission is going to be tough enough with just the three factory ships. Time to move on,” Shelby said.

  “Very well. I see you did your homework,” the Veraxin said. Her truehands were still. Shelby knew why; the female didn't want her to know how she resented that. Tough, she thought. “I can offer you … four of the Liberty class ships you asked for, Captain.”

  “Four out of … twelve? Unacceptable, Commander.”

  “Unfortunately, those are the realities we face,” the commander stated.

  “I know. I also know that eight were already allocated to me,” Shelby said. “That was from yesterday's material. In fact, I just checked, it's still listed as eight.” She frowned and pulled up the file. “Yes eight.”

  “That is out-of-date data I assure you, Captain, and it will be rectified momentarily,” the commander stated, buzzing in annoyance.

  “Not without clearing it with Admiral Subert and or Admiral Irons it won't,” the captain retorted firmly.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You want me to give up the ships I've been assigned and take inferior ships. I'm curious as to what they'll say about that.”

  “It isn't that way at all, Captain. I do not like what you're implying.”

  “I'm not implying anything at the moment,” Shelby said.

  “I can replace the ships you need.”

  “No, no, you can't. The ships you are offering are specialist ships. They won't work,” Shelby insisted.

  “Very well, how can we work this out?”

  “I need factory ships, tenders, tankers, hospital ships, munitions ships, freighters, transports, the ansible carriers, plus the warships. I'm not certain I can budge anywhere.”

  “Can we allow this to lie for a moment captain and focus on some of the other needs? For instance, you did mention hospital ships. We do not have a dedicated Liberty class hospital ship in system. Good Hope had been assigned to you, but she has, as you know, bee
n reassigned due to the crisis on Syntia's World. She won't make it back here in time for your deployment.”

  “And you are what? Offering me a Dora as a replacement?” Shelby shook her head. “Do you understand that one Dora trying to handle something like Good Hope is currently doing, a planetary medical crisis would be overwhelmed?”

  “Not necessarily. If necessary you can recruit and train locals to help and replicate equipment to support them,” the Veraxin stated desperately.

  “How?” Shelby demanded, waving her hands. “I can't replicate medical supplies when I don't have those keys! I'm not a doctor, remember?” she demanded. “And that is only possible if the doctor who has the keys are on site! I might not be on site! If he or she is in another star system …” She shook her head. “And you can't train people in the middle of a crisis to act effectively as a properly trained medic!”

  “You plan to have your ships operate independently? That invites defeat in detail, Captain! They can be prey to the pirates …”

  “Not if I assign them suitable escorts as planned from the beginning!” Shelby insisted.

  The Veraxin signaled to pause for a moment. Her antenna bobbed. “I see. Well, the question of the escorts can wait for another meeting. Our time here is nearly up I'm afraid. Do consider the Doras. They are the best I can offer.”

  “Then we'll have to wait longer if necessary. You can explain it to the brass.”

  “Unacceptable. I've been issued a nondiscretionary order to get your mission off on its scheduled departure date,” the Veraxin sighed.

  “Well then, we'll have to figure a compromise out. I'll go over the ship lists.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I'm not accepting anything,” Shelby warned, raising a hand.

  “But … in order to get things moving in a timely fashion …”

  “No,” Shelby said flatly.

  The Veraxin buzzed in annoyance. Finally, her upper arms slumped. “Very well. Will you consider another option? One unrelated to the first?”

  “And what is that? I'm almost afraid to ask,” Shelby said.