by Chris Hechtl
“We'll see,” the admiral replied to Shandra, not commenting on Sprite's comments. “I know you think you are ready, but running the sims on your own and then against someone else is different. Against an experienced opponent? One who has as much to lose as you do?” He shook his head. Their faces fell slightly. In a sim, you just got a bit of egg on your face if you lost. But real life meant people would be fighting for their lives. For the lives of others. That was a hard lesson that was drilled into them only when they really saw combat he mused to himself. Trying to tell them that ... he shook his head slightly. Some people had to be shown to understand it he thought. “Remember folks, you're supposed to be taking baby steps here.”
“They say to learn you need to fight someone better than you. To get pounded on to find your mistakes so you can learn from them,” Lobsterman reminded him.
The admiral glanced at the ship's AI. He was pretty sure the AI had pulled that quote direct from the book and didn't really mean or understand what it meant. He nodded however. “True. Too true. One thing you should remember, son, the book can be accessed by both sides. There are times to use it, and times to use it against someone else. To think outside the box and throw the book away,” he said carefully. He noted the mulish look on the humans and ship AI faces. He turned to Mia. She shrugged. “Very well then, if you think you can handle it we'll give you a shot.”
“I mean it, sir; we're ready. Don't pull any punches please. We're all adults here; we can hack it. You may be surprised at just how good we have become,” Shandra said confidently.
“We'll see about that,” the admiral said. He'd heard that cocky self assurance a few too many times before. He also knew the cure for it. They needed to temper their confidence with caution and a rational estimation of what could go wrong.
Chapter 4
They began additional training of the marines and fleet personnel the following morning. The new schedule was put up on the forums and ship's website. A lot of people were excited to finally get some combat in, even if it was just simulated. Others were more nervous about it. To a lot of the crew it seemed like a lot more work. More work than they could possibly handle.
“Those that are gung ho ... they are treating it like a game. Like Commander Harris did. They have no concept that can be for real. That real lives can hang in the balance,” Sprite complained to Admiral Irons after she took note of the chatter on the forums. Ensign Williamson was by far the worst offender.
“Then it is time we showed them that they need to take it seriously,” the admiral said.
“A crusher?” Sprite asked gleefully.
“Possible. Definitely something hard enough to wake them up. Real enough for their hind brain to kick in and make the idea of it being just a game fade briefly,” he suggested.
“Hmmm,” Sprite murmured. After a moment she nodded. “I think I can whip something up.” She already had twenty scenarios in mind. She started culling them back to just one.
“Pull Meia in if you need to. I know she is busy, but I also seem to recall an interest in the tactical tract,” the admiral suggested.
Sprite's avatar nodded. “I was going to run the op force, but perhaps she could. It would give a bit of realism to the project. The backup bridge isn't functional yet though, Admiral. Nor the flag bridge or CIC. How can we do this?”
“Hmm,” the admiral replied thoughtfully. “I'll think about it and let you know. I suppose we can set up a station or two in another compartment and tie it into the ship's net. It doesn't have to be perfect, just a temporary job. Technically she could run it through her implants in her rack,” he said.
“I think the only person who could do that easily is you, Admiral. The others are good but do not have your experience. Nor your level of implants or control,” Sprite reminded him. “She's tried to run fighter sims with her implants with mixed results. I believe this effort requires her best.”
“Good point.”
...*...*...*...*...
Sprite set up the simulation of convoy defense for the newly minted tactical department. It was their first formal test of their abilities, and they would be working with some of the other departments during the simulation. The helm and navigator had to focus on flying the ship but the Veraxin OPS officer passed his duties to his second in main engineering and slaved his station to the sim to participate.
The simulation would take place in hyperspace, in a hyperbridge of all places. The admiral frowned at the idea, an uneasy old and painful memory came stirred, but he put the thought down. This was a sim, he thought, not reality.
Normally he'd play the sim out for hours. They didn't have that kind of time. Sprite had set an accelerated time level of ten to one. That meant they had to settle in quickly, get used to the environment, and hit the ground running or they were going to be in for a rough time.
Fighting in hyperspace meant energy weapons would be useless in the engagement. Energy weapons couldn't be fired in hyper. Once they left the ship's hyperspace bubble they were lensed by the force emitters then dropped to light speed. Nothing could travel faster than light without being encompassed by a hyper field.
It could and would get ugly he thought, which it did. Once they detected the enemy raiders the fight was on. To the crew's dismay they were up against a pair of Derfflinger class battle cruisers as well as a mixed bag of escorts.
Mia, Lobsterman, Shandra, and the bridge crew were hard pressed to fight just to protect their own ship. The admiral sat it out, watching and taking notes on their performance as well as the performance of the ship's systems.
Mia, Miss Tormell, he reminded himself, was quite good at missile defense as the Junior Tactical Officer or JTO, despite being an amateur. She was outgunned and knew it, but she fought a valiant defense of the ship and convoy. Lobsterman as acting captain had elected to put Maine on point since she had better sensors than the other ships. By doing so he placed himself between the two battle cruisers performing a pincer attack from above and below the convoy. The enemy escort vessels stayed back, keeping to the flanks of their larger consorts and acting as an extra line of defense against Ensign Williamson's return fire. One enemy frigate stayed far ahead of the convoy, out of their engagement range. The admiral noted its position and puckered his lips in a sour half smile. Either that ship was supposed to be feeding helm warnings to the other raiders on conditions in hyperspace ... or it had a much more nefarious purpose in mind. He was betting on a nasty surprise.
Ensign Williamson had been caught off guard by the ferocity of the engagement but tried her best. She made the classic mistake of dividing her fire between the ships instead of choosing one and pounding on it with her missiles. She didn't launch fighters, which Irons approved of. The fighters would be of little use in a battle between starships in hyper; they would have to stay in close to the bubble around the ships or get tossed away like a cork. Oh, a torpedo strike or fighter pass could distract an enemy, perhaps gain them some close in Intel about their capabilities, but for the most part they would be an impotent audience. The same went for their energy weapons crew since they couldn't fire in hyperspace.
Missiles streamed between the warships. Each could exist for a brief time in hyperspace since they had force emitters forming bubbles around them containing a small piece of their parent ship's hyper bubble. Initially 10 percent of their missiles were lost since the range was over twelve million kilometers. But as the two enemy battle cruisers closed the range that failure percentage dropped.
The engagement turned into a slugging match; a heavy missile bombardment lasting twenty excruciating minutes between the capital ships as the lumbering freighters ran for it ... right into a conveniently placed mine field placed by a rather nasty frigate. They should have ordered the freighters to disperse the admiral thought, making a note.
Seeing the virtual destruction of the freighters under their protection apparently hit home with the bridge crew. Not being able to hit back effectively frustrated them. He could u
nderstand and sympathize. They had a job to do though and weren't doing it. The destruction of the convoy they were supposed to protect demoralized them into hesitating further ... and cost them their virtual ship and the engagement.
When the simulation ended all of the organics on the bridge were sweating, panting wrecks. Meia came trotting onto the bridge grinning a minute later. “Ha! I got you!” She said triumphantly. She thrust both fists into the air above her head then changed them to victory signs.
“You were running the op force?” a soaked-to-the-bone Mia asked, turning to the intruder. “You witch! You cheated!” She accused with a tentative smile.
Meia's grin broadened ever so slightly. “I've never had command of more than my own fighter or a single ship. That was interesting,” she said, turning to the admiral. “Better watch your back, sir, I may take your seat if you're not looking some day,” she teased.
He nodded in amusement. She'd made a few mistakes but had done the job. She'd had the numbers and fire power to do it. Meia was used to the sharp scalpel of her ship not the blunt brute force of the fleet she'd commanded. Her crude tactics had gotten the job done, but he'd call her on them with some ideas on how to improve them later. It was good to see her broadening her potential career path.
“Commander, can you perform a hot wash?” the admiral asked, sitting back and knitting his fingers together. This should be good he thought.
“Absolutely, Admiral,” Sprite replied. The AI commander performed a hot wash critique of the exercise. She didn't pull any punches, pointing out each mistake as she replayed the virtual engagement on the central monitors for all to see.
Miss Williamson stood at ease, hands behind her back through the bruising lecture. She didn't offer any defense, though she did bite her lip. Mia looked stricken at her own faults.
“That could have gone better,” the admiral finished, capping the critique.
Part of being a good officer was being able to handle the stress, to handle it when things came apart. To stay professional no matter what happened around you. Everyone had their breaking moment. Sometimes it was bad. In the admiral's case, he'd had more than a few over the years; the most recent in Antigua where he'd gone on a rampage after some personnel under his command had been injured or killed.
But there was another form of breakage; one that was more heartbreaking. He'd forgotten the need to ease into the role and how such stress could break a person not ready to bear it. Someone who had already undergone a furnace once before could be brittle where one thought they were forged. They learned that they couldn't handle it. He noted the thermal profile of each of the humans as well as the Veraxin. When his eyes cut to Ensign Williamson he frowned thoughtfully. “Ensign? You have something to say?”
“I'm sorry, sir. I'm not suited for this.” The ensign said before she bolted from the compartment sobbing with both hands over her face.
Mia's eyes were wide in shock and dismay to see her friend loose her composure so thoroughly. She stared after her friend shaken. The admiral blinked in surprise, her emotional turmoil had caught him off guard as well.
“Damn,” Meia said softly, looking after the departed woman. She felt a little bad about that.
“Okay ...”
“The stress broke her. Even though it was a sim ...” Sprite shook her head. “They aren't ready. Not now, not yet. Doctor Che was right.”
The admiral frowned. This was bad news; news he didn't want but had to hear. “What are you saying, Commander?”
“I'm saying they need rest, they need counseling. They need to ease into the role more. You can't expect them to perform at peak efficiency without the proper foundation. None of the new recruits have that. We're setting them up to fail.”
“I see.”
“I think we also forgot what a crusher can do to someone. How being slapped down can hurt their morale, make them loose their confidence.”
The admiral frowned and then nodded. Sprite was correct.
“What do we do about her?” Lobsterman asked, now subdued. “She won't talk to me. She's just crying as she heads to her quarters.”
The admiral scrubbed his face. He'd screwed up. They had screwed up. Unfortunately, it had cost them an officer. “You are correct; she isn't suited for combat. You can't hold a stress card up in combat,” Irons sighed heavily after a long moment. “And you are also right; they do need more rest and counseling. We obviously found her breaking point. But on the flip side, it was better to find it here and now than in a critical situation.”
“That's cold, Admiral,” Mia said.
He turned to her. “Unfortunately it is true. I'm sorry, but I have to see it from various angles. The good of the ship and the fleet come first.” She nodded. She didn't look happy, but she at least seemed to understand.
“This is going to be rough on her and the ship's crew. They may wonder who will be next,” Sprite warned.
“She'll need a transfer,” the admiral said. “And lay off the hard sims for a while. Stick to baby steps for a while. Rest. But yes, she'll need a new position.”
“Staff ...”
The admiral frowned. He wasn't sure he wanted her on his staff. No, he didn't, he thought. He was pretty sure she wouldn't want to be here anyway, constantly reminded of her failure. Rubbing her nose into it wouldn't help her mental state. “There are dozens of positions someone with her skills can fill without being exposed to the stresses of combat. The navy needs everyone, from those who push paperwork to those who can train others to fight. Perhaps, with counseling she could handle it, but this breakdown will go on her permanent record, even if it has qualifiers attached,” the admiral observed, looking to the bulkhead. After a moment he shook his head and turned away. “Which means there is a problem, there aren't many staff positions on board.”
“None really, sir, though I might be able to use her services if you insist,” Sprite said as he paused again.
“I didn't think so,” Irons replied. “But I was thinking a transfer to one of the freighters or Carnegie. Their combat drills are minimal correct?”
“Yes, sir,” Sprite replied with a nod of her virtual head. “That would be good, the stress is a great deal less there. They also have less systems to fix.” She sounded relieved. “I'll cut the orders.” She forebode to mention with more free time on her hands the woman would have time to brood over her mistakes, real or imagined. If she wasn't carefully watched, she could fall deeper into depression or other festering mental health problems.
“I think we should ask her first. Give her the option as an alternative to resigning her commission. I don't want her to feel adrift, like her life is being managed for her. I know that isn't normally the navy way, but my instincts say it is important in this instance,” the admiral said. “We've got too much invested in her and her education. But have a friend and or a medic stop in for a chat with her too. She's ... vulnerable now.”
“Based on her vital signs before she departed so abruptly I would tend to agree admiral. Are you concerned she would do herself harm?” Sprite asked carefully.
Irons frowned thoughtfully. He hoped not, she was a good woman, a good officer. If she did break fully it would be detrimental to the crew's morale and mental health outlook long term. “I honestly don't know. But take the precautions. Give her a few minutes to get herself under control then we'll see.”
Sprite's avatar nodded. “Aye, sir.”
Irons sighed. “As you said, that could have gone better,” he murmured after a long moment. All of the simulations they had run before while in transit had been about running or maintaining the ship. Sprite had thrown in a couple disaster and troubleshooting drills near the end of their trip, but they'd had to curtail them. The ships were getting better but were fragile. Some of the breakdowns had been all too real.
Case in point, the young woman. He closed his eyes in pain. Losing her would open a major hole in the tactical department. He'd pushed her, pushed her too hard obviously. He'd have to do s
omething, be a little more careful next time. She'd been eager though; she had asked him not to pull any punches. He'd thrown her in the deep end to see if she could sink or swim. At least now he had his answer.
...*...*...*...*...
Irons addressed the problem to the bridge crew and with a web video to the crew just before dinner. He stood in front of the captain's station, hands clasped behind his back. “May I have your attention?” He asked. Everyone in the compartment turned to him. He nodded to the coxswain. “You can focus on your duties, Chief Moore,” he said. The flat black human nodded from his station with relief. He had to focus on the helm with most of his concentration.
Irons surveyed the rest. They either watched from where they were seated or stood at ease. He nodded again. “I think everyone here knows what happened. It happened. It may happen again. I hope not but it may happen again anyway despite everything we do to prevent it from happening. Some things are outside our control. Lobsterman pointed out it is best to be pounded on to learn how to fight back. That is true, but it is also true that you need to build up your confidence and abilities first. That sort of pounding can be devastating as it was here,” he said, face working a little.
There was a few looks, mainly towards Mia. The young woman hung her head slightly. “You are going to make mistakes. As I told the commander earlier, it is better to make them in a combat simulation than in real life. These we can learn from.”
He frowned, watching them watch him. A few nodded respectfully. He hoped for their sakes they would take what he was saying to heart. “You need to understand, it's not personal. Nor is the critique. Part of the sims is to make mistakes. To find out where they are and learn from them. It is to better you, to find out where your breaking points are and to train you to be stronger, to face them and deal with them if you have to do so.”