Convoy (The Shelby Logan Chronicles Book 1)

by Chris Hechtl

  Prometheus led the way as the mission flagship. The eight Arboth class destroyers formed a ball around the fleet, protecting it on all axis. The four North Hampton class light cruisers took up point in a diamond formation. The four Resolution II class heavy cruisers were in a diamond formation bringing up the rear.

  In the pocket were seven Liberty class freighters; the most that Shelby had managed to get out of the Admiralty. Two of the Liberty class ships had been refitted as personnel transports. One had been refitted as an ammunition collier. The remaining four were freighters.

  The hospital ship Mary Eliza Mahoney was near the center of the formation. Behind her were arrayed the other Dora class ships, two factory ships, four freighters and two tankers.

  They had received two civilian grade tankers instead of purpose-built Liberty class ships Shelby had tried to get. Both ships were actually larger, so she had no call to complain. Shelby had made certain each of the ships had been completely refitted from stem to stern with military grade components.

  Sixteen gunboats and gunships were docked to the exterior of the freighters. The same number of tugs were also docked; there were even more tucked away inside some of the boat bays. There were four Manta class frigates and four Apollo class corvettes docked to the hulls along their spines as well.

  Near the back of the group was the one ship Shelby hadn't honestly expected to get her hands on, a Kittyhawk II class CEV the Admiral Clifton Sprague. Her Crusher classmate, Commander V'll'no, was her new skipper. She also had the eight courier vessels, four of them Paul Revere class, the other four the newer Sojourner class, each with antimatter engines.

  She hadn't received any of the prowlers she'd wanted, nor the extra squadron of destroyers, nor the additional support vessels. She had just the three ammunition colliers, of which two were Doras. They would make do, she thought, vowing to build a stockpile and cache when she got the first opportunity.

  Every ship had been refitted and was as close to 4.0 across the board as she could have wanted. A few of their personnel might be a bit on the green side, but that was okay. They'd earn their rank as the convoy moved through the Rho sector. By the time they were halfway to Airea 3, the greenhorns should be veterans she knew.

  She'd heard there were a few so green that they had yet to be declared hyper-dogs. Cynthia had been a bit put out that none had been on Prometheus. Shelby had only shaken her head at the XO's hints to get one transferred into her clutches. She had no intention of letting her XO maim and embarrass some poor besotted kid for life.

  Even the middies were hyper-dogs she noted. Not that they had many, most of the middies were on the cruisers. She had orders to promote them to ensign once they were in Tau. She'd also received authority to make promotions and demotions within reason by BUPERS and Admiral Irons. She obviously couldn't make anyone a captain or admiral, but she could at least give someone the rank they needed to do the job if necessary.

  Three days later they'd finished their initial shakedown and lined up on the Gaston jump point. The picket ships and orbital fortresses wished them safe sailing and a safe journey. Shelby ordered a return of the salute.

  “Good hunting,” Commodore Samese transmitted from the Gaston jump point command fortress.

  “Thank you, sir,” Shelby replied. He nodded and severed the circuit.

  “Ma'am, we're getting a tachyon burst from Collective Destiny,” Lieutenant Jardin said, looking up and then over his shoulder to her.

  “Now what?” Shelby asked in exasperation. Collective Destiny was the flagship of TF3.2 and was halfway to the B101a1 jump point.

  “It is a text message from Rear Admiral V'r'z'll, ma'am. She's also wishing us safe sailing and good hunting,” Lieutenant Jardin reported a moment later.

  Shelby nodded. “Comm, reply in kind. Safe sailing and good hunting.”

  “Aye aye, ma’am.”

  “We're ready to jump, ma'am,” Portia reported.

  “Then by all means, commence the countdown before we get delayed any further, Lieutenant,” Shelby said. Portia smiled and then turned to begin issuing orders to her staff and the helm team.

  “Comm, black out,” Lieutenant Jardin reported a few minutes later.

  “Hyperdrive at 100 percent. All hands, brace for jump,” Lieutenant Prometheus said over the overhead speaker. “Countdown from ten,” he said.

  Shelby waited, doing her best to settle herself as the final ten seconds counted down. When they hit zero she nodded once to Portia. “Engage.”

  “Jumping into a new adventure!” Portia said excitedly as she engaged the hyperdrive.

  Chapter 15

  Shelby had wanted to sail through Gaston as well as the other star systems since they were traveling in hyper at the sweet spot in Beta band, the eighth octave. Her warships could handle the mid octaves of Gamma despite their loads, but her Doras and tankers couldn't sustain that speed for long. No captain pushed his or her ship to the absolute limit for extended lengths of time without reason. Which was why they were trundling along at a more comfortable speed. But that speed took time, time that many were anxious to make up.

  Unfortunately, she'd been overruled, which meant the convoy had to make a brief stop in orbit over Gaston to show the flag and pick up some supplies and personnel. A critical member of the mission was there waiting for her to pick her up among some of the other personnel, their lone ONI officer, Ensign Fara Slatterly. The ensign pushed Prometheus's compliment of ensigns up to seven, further crowding them, though the spook had her own tiny cabin due to her specialty and need of an office. Her record was also a bit on the light side; she'd just made ensign after her middy cruise six months prior. She had received emergency bereavement leave and had returned to her homeworld of Gaston to bury her parents after their deaths in a powerful tornado that had wiped out her home town and surrounding countryside.

  Some of the captains champed at the bit to get underway quickly or to even send a shuttle to pick up the personnel and gear while only slightly slowing the convoy. Captain Contenov was one of the personnel who put forward the idea that some of the ships, specifically half the warships, move ahead to the next star system, but Shelby reigned him and other officers in. They would move at the speed of their slowest ship or stop together and remain as a cohesive group.

  She did sic Lieutenant Jardin on downloading and distributing all the news from the planet as well as the ansible in the weeks it had taken from their departure from Pyrax while they waited. She also allowed Mister Muggs and his family to visit the planet to shake hands with the governor and give interviews with the media.

  “You know people are going to think he's in charge of the mission,” Cynthia warned.

  “Let them. Appearance and reality can be different things. I'm not interested in the spotlight. I've got work to do,” Shelby said. “Any changes in the schedule?”

  “No. Inspecting the food shipped up to us is slowing loading down a trifle. That is being handled. The captains might be eager to get going, but I think they are coming around to the stop now that we're distributing the fresh food,” she said.

  “Serves them right,” Shelby said as she rose from her chair.

  “Going somewhere, Skipper?” Cynthia asked, eyes trailing her boss.

  “As it happens, I may not like the spotlight but that doesn't mean I can avoid it totally. I refuse to go down to the planet, but I did agree to a series of radio interviews.”

  “Radio interviews?”

  “Audio only. The man on the street still relies on them more than television. Which I guess we should be grateful,” Shelby said. “Television rots the brain over time,” she said.

  “Sure it does,” Cynthia said with a shake of her head. “You are just glad you don't have to be in front of the cameras,” she said.

  “True,” Shelby said as she made her way to the hatch. “Wait,” she paused. “Are you implying that my image on a TV screen would rot your brain, Number One?” she demanded, turning to glower at the XO.r />
  “Perish the thought,” Cynthia replied with a slight smile. “I didn't imply that it would rot someone's brain; you did,” she reminded her skipper.

  Shelby kept the glower up but then turned and departed the compartment. Lieutenant Jardin chuckled softly from his station.

  “As you were,” Cynthia said primly. “Make sure that transmission is ready and as clean as it can be for the skipper,” she ordered.

  “Aye aye, ma’am.”

  ]][#]]]{OO}===}==>

  Fred smiled as he shook hands with the delegation. The governor was his type, a down-to-earth woman who had grown up on an agricultural planet. She had spent her formative years in several towns, but she knew a lot about farming and was good with her people. “It's a pleasure to meet you Governor Lane. I hope you don't mind if I use you to polish some of my diplomacy skills,” he said.

  The governor chuckled. “True, too true,” she said. “I admit, I had hoped Captain Logan would have come down for this. I understand she wanted to be involved in the loading of her ships, but there are people she could delegate that little task too I presume,” the governor said. “And I hear she is doing radio interviews,” she said, indicating they should take a seat on the veranda as the reporters took photos from a discrete distance.

  The Neochimp turned to smile and wave as he took his seat. “The captain is a professional and is steeped in her duties. I'm afraid the radio interviews were the best we could squeeze out of her busy schedule,” he said mildly. He winced slightly when a particularly bright flashbulb went off.

  “I know. I heard your wife and son are off shopping?” the governor asked, clearly amused.

  “Stretching their legs. Phoebe is finding the tight confines of a ship rough on her delicate sensibilities I'm afraid. And my son is spending a month's worth of hoarded allowance,” he said, rolling his eyes.

  “Well, on behalf of the retailers and restaurants they visit, I thank you for the boost, however minor, to our economy,” Governor Lane said with a grin.

  “Right,” Fred drawled, feeling good about the exchange. “While I'm here; you had a few points you wanted to discuss with the State Department to clarify a few things. How can I help you with that?” he asked.

  “Well,” Governor Lane said slowly, sitting back. “I honestly hadn't expected much more than a photo op, but okay …”

  ]][#]]]{OO}===}==>

  Just as they broke orbit three days after their arrival, two familiar ships jumped into the star system. Descartes and Loch jumped into the star system on their way back to Pyrax. Both ships and their shorthanded crews were long overdue for time off. “Congratulations on the long picket duty. I know it wasn't something you wanted to do, but you did Nightingale and the star systems nearby a service, Oscar, Troy,” Shelby said with a nod to each captain's image. “You did damn good work the both of you. You should be proud. I know I'm proud of you.”

  “Thank you, Captain,” Captain Levinson replied. “Don't get me wrong, Captain, but I hope I don't have to get stuck with you again. Picket duty sucks,” he said.

  Shelby couldn't help but grin at that last statement. “But you've gotten some combat notches to your belt. You've taken out some of the enemy making the galaxy a safer place. Good work there,” Shelby returned. “Good luck with your next command. And I hope it is what you want.”

  “Thank you, safe sailing and good hunting to all of you,” came the response a few minutes later as the ships moved further apart to their respective destinations.

  ]][#]]]{OO}===}==>

  The convoy jumped into Epsilon Triangula space without incident. Their passing was a brief visit; two of the freighters dropped off some reinforcement material for picket defenses. The shipment would be distributed to the ships and other pickets by the ships in the star system.

  Shelby was pleased to pick up the expected medical team at the Gaston jump point as well. They had timed their arrival perfectly and were ready to join the hospital ship. There were approximately a dozen medics in all, half were SBAs and nurses. Most of the doctors were young, fresh from the colleges and hospitals on the planet. Lieutenant Gusterson was no longer alone on the ME Mahoney; he had fellow doctors to work with and exchange information and skills with. He was, however, still the ranking doctor. There was one nurse, the head nurse who outranked him since she was a first lieutenant but protocol called for the lead doctor to be in charge. She was glad she wasn't involved in that mess.

  While Cynthia and the other ship's staffs worked on the dance of ships and materials, she checked in on the ships picketing the star system. With little to do, she put a call in to the flagship, the carrier sitting at the heart of the defenses of the star system. She received an immediate audio-only response through the tachyon comm.

  Much like the ansible, the audio was actually converted from audio to text then transmitted, then reconverted into audio for the receiving end. The computers approximated the speaker’s voice based on gender and species. It wasn't perfect, but it was better than flat text.

  “We wish we were coming with you,” Commander Audrey Ruiz, skipper of Spirit of America said.

  “Trust me, I wish you were coming too. We could use your firepower, but I think it's needed here more.”

  “I know.” the other woman said with a grimace. “I hate being locked down here though and so far from the war front. We're babysitting, pure and simple.”

  “Sometimes that happens. At least you've got Nightingale covered on your southern flank,” Shelby said.

  “Well, that's certainly true. We've also got plenty of fuel, and we can get parts from the planet as needed. My CAG Commander Mushi has the wing at an almost perfect 4.0 across the board despite the occasional poaching from BUPERS,” he drawled. “They keep dipping in and snagging some of his best people to take on squadron command or even wing command on other ships.”

  “Good for him,” Shelby said with a smile. “I mean, I'm glad he's keeping up with it. If we had more time, I'd arrange some war games with our own fighters. Unfortunately, we can't stop and play.”

  “Shucks. Well, there is always next time,” the captain replied with a chuckle. Shelby was surprised that it was transferred through the link.

  “What's up with that station … wait, is that the ETMI shipyard someone mentioned?” she asked, looking at the plot. She couldn't believe someone had named it “Ech Too Much Information” Shipyards. But then again, she'd heard stranger names.

  “Ah, I see you caught that,” Captain Ruiz said. “One of the reasons I'm not too unhappy about being here is seeing that facility take shape. It's simple I suppose, but they are doing it without much help from us. Pretty independent lot,” she said.

  Shelby zoomed in to the shipyard. She could pick out the various truss segments, drydocks, and enclosed rectangular boxes for drydock work. She whistled softly. “Impressive,” she murmured. She looked up to her sensor watch. “Make sure we take plenty of images and notes,” she ordered.

  “Ma'am?”

  “I want others to see this. The same for each of our stops. I want the people in Tau to see what they can achieve with our help and on their own if they try. Sort of sell them on it some more.”

  “Ah, good call, ma'am,” the PO said with a nod as he made a note on his tablet.

  “I'll have my people send you some stuff. Plus, some stuff about ET for your brochure,” Captain Ruiz said in what had to have been a drawl. “I've been groundside a few times on leave. There are some impressive cities down there. Metropolis is one, so clean and modern. Gotham is so dark though! I don't recommend putting that in; it's still crime infested.”

  “Okay,” Shelby said with a nod. “Any other ideas?”

  “Give the pirates hell?” the other captain asked. “We'll all be rooting for you,” she said.

  “Thank you. We'll certainly do that,” Shelby said. “Prometheus out.”

  “Spirit out,” Captain Ruiz said as the channel was cut.

  ]][#]]]{OO}===}==>

 
; As the convoy moved through the Epsilon Triangula star system to the Nightingale jump point, they received the occasional hail, most of them from the warships in the star system. The captain or XO fielded most of them, including calls from the planet and the governor's office, though Shelby was wise to draw Mister Muggs in on that conversation. He wasn't the only one who could be diplomatic when the situation required it.

  Lieutenant Jardin frowned as he received an unsolicited call. Normally the media or others who wished to talk to the skipper went through the Navy's public affairs department on the planet. This call came direct from space however. He took a moment to localize the source; it was coming from a ship which was located at the shipyard in orbit of the gas giant. “Curiouser and curiouser,” he murmured as he took note of the person making the call. He ran the name Captain Faith Meikle through his database.

  “Got something, Comm?” Captain Shelby asked.

  “Something, yes, ma'am. A call … I'm not sure what it is about. It's a direct call from the shipyard around the gas giant. It is from a Captain Meikle. She is in the database, former chief engineer of a ship, Io 11. She took on a captain role of the ship Molly but is now building this civilian shipyard,” he said, tapping the icon on his plot screen. The tap was transferred to create a blinking icon on the captain's plot. “I think she's trying to sell something, but I'm not sure. She said she wants to talk to you.”

  “She's on the line direct?”

  “Voice print confirms it is her voice, ma'am. We're in the window where we can have a live conversation without more than a two-second delay.”

  “Put her through. If anything, she's got my attention and curiosity,” Shelby ordered.

  “Aye aye, ma'am. Do you want it direct or …”