MIDSHIPMAN HENRY GALLANT
by
H. Peter Alesso
Copyright © 2013 H. Peter Alesso
All rights reserved.
Edition 2.08
ISBN: 1482640325
ISBN 13: 9781482640328
DEDICATION
Not everyone who fights is a warrior.
A warrior knows what’s worth fighting for.
CONTENTS
Chapter 1 Joining the Fleet
Chapter 2 Shipmates
Chapter 3 Communications Officer
Chapter 4 Fighter Requalification
Chapter 5 Mock Combat
Chapter 6 JOOD Training
Chapter 7 Jupiter Station
Chapter 8 Roommate
Chapter 9 Enemy Scout
Chapter 10 Mind Revolution
Chapter 11 Ganymede Research Projects
Chapter 12 Deep Space Radar Search
Chapter 13 Radar Contact with Alien fleet
Chapter 14 Merchant Ship’s Escorts
Chapter 15 Deep Space Probe
Chapter 16 Advanced Pilot Qualification
Chapter 17 Stella Bordeaux
Chapter 18 Battle of Jupiter
Chapter 19 Mission to Mars
Chapter 20 Surprise in the Asteroids
Chapter 21 Hiding in the Asteroids
Chapter 22 The Great Escape
Chapter 23 Debriefing by SIA
Chapter 24 Homecoming Weekend
Chapter 25 Senatorial Committee
Chapter 26 Admiral’s Evaluation
Chapter 27 Asteroid Battle
Chapter 28 Flotilla Action
Chapter 29 Priorities
CHAPTER 1
A massive solar flare roared across the pockmarked face of the sun producing static interference on every display console operating in the tiny spacecraft as it approached the United Planets' battle cruiser Repulse in orbit around Jupiter.
“No need to worry young man, we’re almost there,” said the aged pilot.
“I’m not concerned about the storm,” said newly commissioned Midshipman Henry Gallant. Eagerly, he shifted in his seat to get a better glimpse of the massive ship that was to become his new home for the next two years.
The pilot maneuvered expertly to minimize the worst effects of the x-ray and gamma radiation until the craft made its tortured way from the sunlit brilliance into the cold black shadow of Repulse. The tiny ship quivered gently as its tractors reached out to the behemoth bulk of the warship slowly drawing alongside.
When it attached to the Repulse’s docking hatch, Gallant transferred to the warship and made his way to the bridge. He found the Officer of the Watch standing next to the empty captain’s chair surrounded by its nest of displays and virtual readouts. The officer rested his hand briefly on the panel concealing the Artificial Intelligence (AI) tactical analyzer.
“Midshipman Henry Gallant reporting aboard, sir,” he said, standing as tall as his seventeen-year-old gangly figure would allow. He tugged at his uniform blouse to straighten the buttons into proper alignment.
“Welcome aboard, Mr. Gallant. I’m Lieutenant Mather.” Mather was of average height, barrel-chested with sharp-angular facial features. Stoic, he showed little interest in the new arrival. “Please give me your comm pin.”
Gallant handed over his pin and Mather made several quick selections on a touch screen console. He swiped the pin passed the chip reader which loaded the ID and personnel information into Repulse’s computer.
Gallant took the opportunity to look around the spacious semicircular compartment with its numerous apparatus and instruments. The captain's seat was centrally located and he noticed that many of the other chairs were also unoccupied. Apparently some watch stations were only manned during conditions of higher alert.
He observed the watch standers carrying out their ritual duties. The communication panel was manned by a midshipman who looked occupied with an incoming message. The radar station was also manned, but by a technician who was diligently studying his display. Gallant couldn't tell what he was tracking, but there were several blips on the scope. The weapons and astrogator positions were vacant; several science analysis stations were operating automatically. To Gallant’s approving eye, the entire bridge watch seemed a model of efficiency and diligence, just as he had been trained to expect at the academy.
Soon his attention was captured by the huge view screen at the front of the compartment that revealed the gas giant Jupiter with its orbiting space station. He marveled at the spectacle.
“Junior officer authorization, verified. The ID pin has been updated with Repulse’s access codes,” announced a computer’s voice emanating from a nearby speaker. It had a neutral soothing tone that reminded Gallant of a rather cold and distant teacher he had had in basic math years ago.
“Did you bring your personal gear aboard?” asked Mather.
“My duffle bag is forward at the docking port, sir.” The aged pilot had helped Gallant carry his gear from the craft through the airlock onto Repulse. He had given him a cheery smile and said, “Good luck,” as he departed. Having no family of his own, Gallant had found some faint comfort in the good wishes.
“I’ll have your gear sent to your quarters. For now, you had better see the captain,” said Mather, as he flicked an eyebrow at Gallant.
“Aye aye, sir,” said Gallant.
Mather turned to one of the bridge’s junior officers, a young woman who wore a single thin gold stripe on her blouse sleeve indicating she was a Midshipman First Class, one year senior to Gallant. He ordered, “Midshipman Mitchel, take Mr. Gallant to the captain’s cabin.”
As they left the bridge, Mitchel said, “Henry Gallant. I remember you from the academy. I’m surprised you’re still in uniform.”
Gallant grit his teeth, as he had done many times before when confronted with what he perceived as overt disapproval. He didn’t recognize her, but he couldn’t help observe that she was a pretty brunette with a trim figure.
“Will you be training as fighter pilot, or missile weapon’s officer?” she asked.
“I had basic fighter training on Mars and I will be taking advanced pilot training with Repulse’s Squadron 111.”
“I’m a qualified second seat astrogator in 111. Most likely, we’ll wind up flying together at some point.”
Since her demeanor displayed no indication that that state of affairs either repelled or appealed to her, Gallant merely nodded.
When they reached the captain’s cabin, she said, “I’m Kelsey by the way. Good luck.”
Gallant watched her walk away, wondering if the remark was sincere.
-------------------------------
Gallant stood at attention inside the open hatch. Captain Kenneth Caine was seated with his back to Gallant while he reviewed Gallant’s military record on a computer tablet. Clean-shaven with close-cropped graying hair, Caine was solidly built with square shoulders and a craggy face.
From his short time on board, Gallant had already realized that the Repulse was an orderly ship and that Kenneth Caine was an orderly captain. Precision and disciple were expected. He was suddenly conscious of the fact that his tangled brown hair was somewhat longer than regulations allowed.
The cabin was sparely furnished, revealing a traditional stark military room. A desk rested in one well lit corner and held the single personal item in the room, a photo. It showed an attractive mature woman with a pleasant smile. It hinted of someone who had made a bad bargain – that of the lonely wife of a devoted space officer.
While the captain rapidly sli
d his finger across the tablet screen, flipping through the personnel folder, Gallant’s gaze wandered to the scene visible from the compartment’s porthole. The solar flare had subsided, leaving gigantic colorful Jupiter filling most of the view.
“Mr. Gallant, come in,” said Caine, finally turning to face the newcomer. “Welcome aboard the Repulse.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Gallant in a strong clear voice.
“What do you know of this ship’s mission, Mr. Gallant?”
“As flagship of the Jupiter Fleet, Repulse is required to prevent further alien encroachment along the Jupiter frontier, sir,” ventured Gallant cautiously.
“Quite right, as far as it goes. But you’ll find Mr. Gallant, that there are more layers involved than may appear on the surface. As a United Planets' (UP) officer, it is your responsibility to find the additional shades of meaning that can affect the performance of your duties. What would you surmise is behind this frontier watch?” The captain’s reassuring voice beckoned a resolute answer.
Gallant spoke guardedly at first, but then with growing confidence he said, “Well, sir, UP knows little about the aliens' origins or intentions. They appear to have bases on the satellites of the outer planets. Clashes with their scout ships have proven troublesome and Fleet Command wants to gather more intelligence. With so little known about the alien technology, it’s difficult to assess the best way to repel them. Nevertheless, this fleet is tasked with forestalling any possibility of an invasion of Earth by preventing the aliens from gaining a foothold in this sector of space.”
“And what would you say will be the single most important element in achieving victory in battle?”
“Surprise, sir. I assume that is why you've dispersed most of the fleet, in order to search the widest possible region of space for the first signs of significant alien activity,” he said boldly.
Caine examined Gallant once again, as if seeing him for the first time. “Good. We will not be the ones surprised. We will be prepared. You can appreciate the importance that Repulse performs well.” Then, more emphatically, he added, “And I will allow nothing, and no one, to interfere with our mission.”
“Yes, sir,” said Gallant, feeling the sting from the pointed comment.
“Tell me, Mr. Gallant,” said the captain as he shifted in his chair to find a more comfortable position, “why did you apply to the academy?”
Gallant couldn’t suppress the passion in his voice as he said, “For as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted to pilot spaceships and explore the unknown, sir.”
“You are no doubt aware that many people wanted your hide raised up the flagpole.” Caine’s eyebrow twitched upward. “While your progress for the two academic years at the academy has been respectable, there are many who are doubtful that a Natural can compete in the fleet. Today, your real qualification for advancement is your double helix.”
Caine cleared his throat and continued, “Frankly, I’m astonished you have gotten this far without the advantages of genetic engineering. However, you're a bit of a mystery that has yet to unfold."
Gallant didn’t like being referred to as a mystery, but he had his own uncertainty about how his future might unfold.
Caine said, "Now that you are commissioned, you must serve a two-year deployment on Repulse. Then, if you complete all your qualifications and receive strong ranking marks you may be recommended for promotion to Ensign in the UP Space Service.”
Caine searched Gallant’s countenance as he waited for a reply. “Well, nothing to say for yourself?”
Gallant fought to avoid grimacing, “I am prepared to do my duty to the best of my abilities, sir.”
“It is exactly ‘the best of your abilities’ that is in question, young man,” responded Caine, his voice rising slightly. Then he concluded with a weak smile, “Well, we shall see. Won’t we? Learn your duties, obey orders, and you will have nothing to fear. That’s all.”
“Aye aye, sir,” said Gallant, withdrawing from the captain’s quarters.
CHAPTER 2
After leaving the captain's cabin, Gallant made his way along the main corridor, stepping gingerly against the light artificial gravity created by the ship’s rotation.
He soon realized that Repulse was the size of a small town and alive with bustling activities. A far-off hiss of the atmosphere exiting the metal ducts provided fresh fragrant air, to replace the oil-laden stale odors produced by the many machines and devices throughout the compartments. There was a steady drone of the air conditioners fighting the heat buildup from all those machines. A slow rumble completed the ensemble as the oxygen generators and carbon dioxide scrubbers maintained the atmosphere.
There were also the human sounds of men and women gathering in compartments murmuring about the trivia of the day and carrying out their duties and responsibilities.
The corridor was well lit with smoothly paneled bulkheads. Behind the paneling were pipes with flowing fluids, ducts carrying air to and from ventilation equipment, electrical conduit power supplies, as well as junction boxes and wireless modem stations.
After a few twists and turns along the broad corridor, Gallant lost all sense of direction and couldn’t tell fore from aft, let alone find his way to the midshipmen’s quarters.
Finally, he surrendered and touched his comm pin. He asked the computer for directions.
“Turn left ahead, then down the next ladder to deck four, and then right to compartment 4-150-0-L,” responded the comm pin voice. It added, “For future reference, the compartment number consists of four parts, separated by hyphens. It starts with the deck number, followed by the frame number, centerline position, and finally the compartment use, such as, L for living space.”
In a few minutes, Gallant was standing at the open hatch leading to the midshipmen’s berth. A table full of young men and women stopped what they were doing and stared at him, making their preliminary judgmental assessments.
He surveyed his surroundings during the brief silence. The midshipman’s common room was moderately roomy with a large central table. Along the starboard bulkhead were a dozen narrow two-person quarters for the men. A similar dozen were on the port side for the women. Two common washrooms were likewise distributed. Additionally, several small desks were jammed into the compartment's corners. At the head of the table was a large video screen, currently dark.
The midshipmen were participating in various activities; some studying, others playing games against the computer or each other. The overall atmosphere seemed relaxed and pleasant.
The entire group consisted of First Class Midshipmen about half of which were women. Their insignia indicated they were a mixture of pilots, astrogators, and missile officers.
“Does he speak, or must we use telepathy?” asked a redheaded giant at the foot of the table. His body-builder torso contrasted with his agreeable brow and mischievous grin. The deep booming voice he produced could have come from a baritone singer.
“My name is Gallant."
“Well Gallant, come closer and meet your brethren,” said the redhead. “I’m George Gregory better known as 'Red' for obvious reasons. This is Anton Neumann, noted for his manifold inherited talents, but most especially for his piloting skills.” Red was pointing toward the young man sitting at the head of the table who had been reading studiously before the interruption.
Neumann was in every way the prototypical example of Earth’s most advanced genetic engineering. He was tall, strikingly handsome, with a powerful frame and an appealing smile. He had the look of a leader and his position at the head of the table confirmed that he was the ranking midshipman.
“And that is Jerril Chui, noted for torturing musical instruments,” continued Red pointing to a tall, wispy figure with a drawn complexion. A lighthearted laugh twittered around at the table.
“Tell us a little about yourself Gallant,” interjected Chui, before Red could continue with more introductions.
“Well, there’s not much to tell. This is my
first deployment. I’ll be taking advanced fighter training,” said Gallant with increasing discomfort.
“What's your genetic quotient?” interrupted Neumann. Everyone waited quietly for Gallant’s response. Actually, such a direct request for the evaluation results of Gallant’s genetic intellectual and physical enhancements was considered ill-mannered. If they were young businessmen at a social gathering, such a question would have been rude to the point of insult, but the directness of military disciple lent itself to more openness.
“I am unrated,” responded Gallant as he steeled himself for what he knew would follow. He was well aware of the affect he had on others from the reaction of his classmates at the academy and now he could see it once more in the faces of these young men and women. Each set of eyes told the same story and their facial expressions changed from open and good-natured, to guarded and disciplined.
Neumann opened his hands and turned them up as if to say, 'Look nothing up my sleeves,' and then he said, “I thought I recognized your name. You’re the Natural?”
“Yes.”
From that moment, Gallant’s very existence seemed to evaporate from the consciousness of the other midshipmen. They simply went back to their previous activities completely ignoring him, their chatter excluding him.
Looking around the room, he noticed his duffle bag leaning against the last starboard cubicle. He walked to his new quarters and began unpacking his uniforms and few personal belongs. He could hear the others talking and laughing gaily late into the night.
It was his first night aboard. He had started the day with high hopes, but his previous experience with midshipmen had given him realistic expectations. Now he tossed sleeplessly, uncertain what awaited him, but determined to meet any challenge head-on. As he nodded off in the early hours, his mind drifted; Did Kelsey really wish him 'Good Luck'?
Midshipman Henry Gallant in Space (The Henry Gallant Saga) Page 1