by PP Corcoran
John’s own navigator, Lt. Carlos Danioni, was a prime example. Before Vadis seconded him to Charon, he had been working out on the asteroid belt, doing traffic control for the endless amount of freight traffic plying back and forth to the inner system. On his arrival at Charon, John met him at the shuttle, as he had with each of his command crew, to get an initial feel for him. Danioni arrived with the look of a beaten man, resigning himself to another tour of another humdrum asteroid. John was not impressed. That evening while having dinner with Alec Murray, who had become not only a friend but also a good sounding board, he expressed his concern. “You should have seen him, Alec; he got off the shuttle and couldn’t even look me in the eye.”
“Well I don’t know about you, John, but if I’d just finished a tour shuffling freighters around for three years and was told I was going somewhere even more remote for another three, I’d certainly wonder who I had pissed off.”
“Yeah... I suppose your right. If he is such a shit-hot navigator, why don’t we see what he’s made of?” John tapped his communicator.
“Control?” a disembodied voice said.
“Control, can you tell me if any of the Vanguard simulators are free?”
“Wait one, Captain... Yes, sir. Simulator Two is free till zero eight hundred tomorrow morning.”
“Thanks. Can you book that in my name for zero one thirty hours till zero four thirty hours and load a level four navigation scenario for me?”
There was a short pause on the other end of the link. “Sorry, sir. Did you say zero one thirty till zero four thirty and level four?”
“That’s correct. I feel the need to push myself a little, brush off the rust, so to speak.”
“At level four, sir, I hope you’re on the top of your game.”
So do I, John thought. “Radford out.”
Alec sat back and raised his beer glass. “I salute a fellow humanitarian, a man who cares for his crew and thinks of their every need. So when do you give the good lieutenant the news of his make or break simulator test?”
“Oh,” as a large grin appeared on John’s face, “about zero one ten hours,” and sipped his own beer.
A very harassed looking, and out of breath, Danioni came running round the corner at the end of the corridor that held the entrance to Simulator 2. John glanced at his watch. “Zero one twenty-five, Lieutenant Danioni. What took you so long?”
“Sir, I only arrived on the base this afternoon.”
“Which has given you adequate time to look over the basic base schematic, has it not, Lieutenant? I don’t expect excuses from any of my crew.”
A look of surprise came over Danioni’s face “Crew, sir? I thought I was here to do traffic control?”
John looked him square in the eye “That, Lieutenant Danioni, is what we are here to decide. Follow me.” Radford entered the simulator, Danioni in tow. There was an intake of breath behind his as Danioni took in the view. A complete replica of the command deck of a Vanguard class survey ship. John smiled. “Close your mouth, Lieutenant. You’re not catching flies.” Danioni’s mouth closed with an audible click. “Sit down over there, Lieutenant.” John indicated a seat surrounded by monitors against the left-hand bulkhead and then took his own seat in the centre of the command deck. “Until I am satisfied that you’re up to the job, we will run simulations. If, however, you don’t come up to scratch, I think that freighter controlling will be your calling. So do we understand each other, Lieutenant?”
Danioni didn’t even turn around as he busily tried to familiarise himself with the controls around him. “Yes, sir. Clearly, sir.”
John sat back in his chair. “Then let us begin.”
Three hours later and John’s head was pounding. On the first two simulations, John had beaten Danioni to the correct navigation solution, but as the lieutenant became more familiar with the control system of the Vanguard, he was able to beat John by a greater and greater margin. If John didn’t know better, he would have sworn that Danioni was cheating: he was able to do complex math in his head and cut out the need to input the information into the nav computer. He did not have to wait for the results, and therefore missed steps out of the final computation... truly amazing.
After the final simulation, John saw a different side of Danioni. As the lieutenant turned to face him, he was smiling from ear to ear. His whole body seemed to have come alive with raw energy, eager for the next challenge. John regarded him for a moment. “Well done, Lieutenant. I stand corrected. Welcome to the Henry Hudson.”
With a quizzical look, Danioni said, “Thank you, sir. But, eh... what is a Henry Hudson?”
John laughed aloud, nearly falling off his seat in the process. “Briefing room, zero eight thirty sharp and all will be revealed. Now go get some sleep. I know I plan to.”
#
TDF Henry Hudson - Charon Base - Orbit of Pluto - Sol System
A call from the marine at the outer hatch informing him that Adm. Vadis had just boarded and was on his way to the command deck broke John Radford’s train of thought. A few moments later, the Admiral strode through the hatch followed by Lt. Cmdr. Wilson, his chief of staff.
“Admiral, a pleasure as always,” John said in his best upbeat tone. Vadis saw right through him.
“You’re such a poor liar, Captain. But ten out of ten for trying. You know and I know that I only interfere when I have to. Most of the time I send my henchman – her,” he nodded towards Wilson, “to do my dirty work, but not this time. Could I ask you to assemble your senior staff in your briefing room in say... thirty minutes? Until then, why don’t you show Lieutenant Commander Wilson and me the comfy chairs in your cabin?”
John glanced over at Cmdr. Bill Talbot, his Executive Officer, seated at the other side of the bridge; he nodded and started making calls. “If you’d like to follow me, Admiral.” John wasn’t getting a good feeling about this.
The Henry Hudson was a small survey ship. The captain’s quarters consisted of only one cabin and a small office attached to it. With John, Vadis and Wilson ensconced in it, it was not exactly spacious. John sat behind his desk. The Admiral took the other most comfortable seat and indicated to the others to sit.
“Well, John. As I said, we have had a slight hiccup. As you are well aware, I have been banging on about the covert nature of our mission and of Charon base. We have managed to keep the whole thing secret for nearly four years – a small miracle in itself. When President McMullen first authorised Operation Minerva, only the then Chair of the Science and Technology Committee, Gillian Rae, the Secretary of Finance, Thomas Crothers and Admiral Helset were even aware of its existence. When I was brought on board, I only had direct contact with Admiral Helset, the theory being if I did not know anyone else and they did not know me then leaks would be at a minimum. In the spy business, we call it compartmentalisation. When President Coston took over……” Vadis referred to Rebecca Coston, the new 24th President of the Terran Republic. She had recently replaced the popular outgoing President McMullen. He had reached the end of his fifteen-year presidential term, and to much disappointment was forbidden from standing again. After all, fifteen years was the maximum term permitted. Vadis continued. “She was briefed by McMullen of our existence. Rebecca Coston agreed to keep not only the operation secret, but to keep key personnel such as Crothers and Rae in place.” Vadis chuckled to himself. “I would love to have been a fly on the wall when she told her party officials that she was retaining two senators from the opposition party in their posts! Anyway, unfortunately, the President’s party insisted on replacing Admiral Helset. He apparently made some of them feel uncomfortable. I can’t imagine why...”
This time it was Wilson that giggled like a schoolgirl. “He always did have a knack of annoying politicians,” Wilson said.
“True, Commander. But I digress. And it is with his replacement that our problem lies.”
John looked confused “But surely his replacement is General Joyce? A marine through and through, you
couldn’t get a secret out of that man with an explosive charge.”
“Quite right, Captain.” Vadis exhaled sharply. “General Keyton Joyce will make an outstanding leader of the Defence Force. However, somehow, and I am personally investigating the reason, the eyes only briefing pack on Operation Minerva was delivered to the wrong office.” Vadis was clenching and unclenching his fists as he spoke his words through gritted teeth.
This was not going to be pretty, thought John.
Vadis continued. “How do you deliver a sealed, eyes only, briefing pack inside a secure briefcase, attached to the wrist of an armed marine, to the wrong office, accept the wrong ID for it and walk away happy as Larry?”
Uh-oh, thought John. Some poor marine officer was going to be in charge of chipping off small flakes of an asteroid with an ice pick for the rest of his career.
“Anyway, to the point.” Vadis physically calmed himself again. “The clerk who accepted the pack had no way of knowing its contents just the code name –– Operation Minerva. When the marine came running back into the office to recover the pack, he apparently threatened the clerk with a fate worse than death if he ever mentioned the name ‘Minerva’ again.”
Wilson looked at John and said, “And what do you think happened next?”
“Not funny, Commander,” Vadis growled “Over a drink that evening with some…” The Admiral screwed up his face in disgust, “… reporter, he told the whole story. Said reporter did some snooping and spoke with a source in Finance, who being a good citizen told him all about some project being run directly out of the Secretary’s office... In addition, that it appeared to be swallowing up significant portions of other projects’ budgets. The reporter intends to run a story tomorrow with the bare minimum of facts and the maximum of conjecture.”
“It would seem, Admiral,” said John, “that the cat is out of the bag. Where do we go from here, sir?”
Vadis looked at Wilson. “Commander, if you would.”
“Yes, sir. The plan, Captain, is to bring the launch of all the Vanguards forward. Instead of launching two ships at a time to their respective destinations, the ships will launch as and when they are ready.”
John thought for a moment before answering. “Well, we could be ready to go in seventy-two hours, sir. We were scheduled to launch in six days anyway.”
Wilson nodded. “That’s about what I thought. Over the next fourteen days, we intend to launch all the Vanguards. The Vasco De Gama and Captain Witsell will take the longest to prep as they’ve been having some technical difficulties with their navigation systems, but the yard dogs have assured me that they will be able to rectify any problems before launch.”
As Wilson finished, Vadis stood up. “We will not delay you any further, Captain. You have a tight enough schedule. You need to be meeting with your staff and sharing the good news.”
It was John’s turn to smile. “Yes, sir. I’m sure they’ll be overjoyed.”
The Admiral and his chief of staff headed through the hatch, towards the outer hatch connecting the Henry Hudson to the dock, escorted by a marine. John headed for the briefing room a few doors up from his cabin, his brain doing flip-flops as he considered how to squeeze six days of work into seventy-two hours. John paused at the briefing room hatch and smiled; he remembered that on any ship the XO handled the bulk of any task. Talbot was going to love him. He pressed the hatch release and entered the briefing room.
#
Cmdr. William ‘Bill’ Talbot was attempting to cat nap while he waited for his computer to finish checking, what seemed like, an endless list of supplies and equipment: from rations to fuel to computer gel packs which the ship’s supply officer, Lt. Kessler, had assured him were now safely on board the Henry Hudson and stored correctly. The last seventy-two hours had been frantic. He was sure the captain had been smiling at him when he told the assembled staff of the quote, small change in plans, unquote. Ha! Talbot‘s well thought out detailed plans to be ready in five days were flung out the airlock. Instead, he crafted new plans off the top of his head. No wonder he was going bald, he smiled to himself.
The computer made an attention tone. Talbot opened one eye to see if the list was complete. It was still running. The noise was the hatch entry tone. Talbot reluctantly pressed for acceptance and wondered what problem was about to disturb his well-deserved snooze. Talbot stood up a bit too fast and swayed a little as he realised the captain was standing in the hatchway. “Steady now, Bill,” John said with a grin.
“Sorry, sir. Just having a little cat nap while the computer finishes.”
“Have a seat, XO.” Talbot flopped back into his chair. “I bring a peace offering.” From behind his back, John produced a bottle of cold – there was even frost on the bottle – Australian beer. “I believe you are partial to some of the amber nectar? Seeing that you have managed to keep my promise to Admiral Vadis – I do appreciate it when my minions make me look good – I thought a small reward was in order. Not forgetting,” as John produced a second bottle from behind his back, “a reward for myself for having the good sense to employ such a useful minion.” Both men laughed as John passed over the beer and took the only other seat in the office.
Talbot took a good long pull of his beer and let out an appreciative sigh. “You know, sir? That was almost worth all the hard work... almost!”
“Enjoy it, XO. It’s going to be our last for a while. Are you happy that we’re ready to go?”
Talbot thought for a moment before replying. “Yes, sir. The crew have worked their guts out to be ready. Every department head has got a green board and I have complete confidence in them.”
“Well, XO, if that’s your opinion, then that’s good enough for me. I’ll inform Admiral Vadis that the TDF Henry Hudson is ready in all respects for launch. After I finish my beer, of course.”
Talbot looked back at him “Of course, sir.”
#
John Radford sat, once again, in the conference room in which he had first learned of the real reason for his posting to, what he thought at the time, a logistics assignment.
John was accompanied this time by his own command staff: Cmdr. Bill Talbot, Lt. Cmdr. George Taylor, his Chief Engineer, Lt. Cmdr. Albert Remberts, Chief Medical Officer, Lt. Alexandra Falconer, Tactical Officer, Lt. Cai Tingkai, Communications Officer, Lt. Alfred Kessler, Supply Officer, and last but not least Lt. Carlo Danino, Navigation Officer. Also present was Major Alec Murray, CO of the Henry Hudson’s Marine contingent – a man whose judgement and common sense John had learned to trust over the previous six months.
A side door opened and all present stood at attention. Admiral Aleksandr Vadis entered, followed closely by his right hand man, Lt. Cmdr. Elizabeth Wilson. “Please be seated, ladies and gentlemen,” said Vadis as he himself sat at the head of the conference table. “I know that you have accomplished a minor miracle in the last seventy-two hours, Captain, preparing for launch. No doubt your XO and supply officer are suitably harassed.” Vadis smiled and nodded towards Talbot and a face-reddening Kessler. “But now to business. The initial targets of the Vanguard ships will be those stars identified from the star charts recovered from the Rubicon data. We know that the Saiph have visited at least seventeen star systems; it would be prudent to believe that these star systems were not chosen at random but were part of their greater plan to seed indigenous species, such as ourselves, with the physical and mental makeup to develop into advanced civilisations. We have no idea how well this seeding has taken root. It’s your job to go out there and find out. But…” Vadis paused and allowed his eyes to rest on each person in turn, “your overriding priority is not the discovery of new life; it is the preservation of life on Earth. If, for whatever reason, something does not seem right to you, Captain, you turn tail and head for home. Do you understand?”
All present stood to attention once more as Vadis reached out and grasped John’s hand in his.
“Good luck, John. I wish it was I going. Do us proud.”
/> “I’ll do my best, sir,” replied John. And with that, the Admiral left with Cmdr. Wilson in tow. John turned to his staff and saw the expectant look in each of their faces “Launch in three hours people, so let’s get those last minute checks done and be on our way.”
Vadis watched John dismiss his staff from his office adjacent to the conference room before turning to look at Wilson,
“Well?” he said.
Wilson consulted her PAD. “Henry Hudson launches at fifteen hundred hours, Captain Papadomas and the Jacques Cartier is due to launch at zero nine hundred hours tomorrow with Captain Lewis and the James Cook at seventeen hundred hours tomorrow. That only leaves Captain Witsell and the Vasco De Gama. The techs are still having problems with her navigation computers but assure me she should be ready for launch by twenty-three hundred hours.”
Vadis was quiet for a moment as he thought to himself. Four small ships representing man’s first true attempt to explore the surrounding stars. All accomplished in utter secrecy... until that idiot went to the wrong office. He could feel his face forming into a scowl as the dark clouds of anger entered his thoughts. Enough! He thought. I have better things to worry about than things that have passed. The press and the general population would be given the whole story in a matter of hours when President Coston, broadcast the details of Operation Minerva to the public.
Vadis would have preferred the survey ships to be launched and to be returned safely before entering the public arena, but so be it. At least all the interest in Minerva had ensured that the second prong of Operation Chimera had remained hidden from prying eyes. “When is Admiral Jing due to arrive, Elizabeth?”