by David Tatum
Burkhard openly smiled. “Well, Mr. Coles, you may not have been aware of it, but my crew and officers assisted in the completion of both of those ships. And it wasn’t like I’d send my engineers off to finish other ships before I thought my own was ready. If you and your inspectors would come with me?”
“I didn’t mean to imply that your ship wasn’t battle-ready before I even started inspecting it, Captain Burkhard,” Coles said, nodding respectfully. “But the quality of most of the ships I’ve seen today has given me a rather pessimistic expectation on that regard.”
“That is no surprise,” Burkhard snorted, guiding the inspectors down the corridor. “Only battleships had access to the tenders, and most parts requisitions by smaller ships were denied in favor of them. There wasn’t enough time to get many of those Sirius-class battleships fully battle ready, even with those advantages. In my opinion, it was a waste of resources on the Academy’s part. I’m amazed that Superb was finished, even with my crew’s help, to be honest, much less the five other battleships.”
Coles nodded, pulling out his hand comp and a stylus to take notes. “Was there anything you wished you could have done that you were unable to, because of the lack of a tender?”
Burkhard nodded. “Yes, a few things. Mr. Rappaport, our Chief Engineer, said that all we would have required was six hours with a tender, and we might have been able to find a solution to the staffing problems we started with.”
That caused eyebrows to be raised by all present. “Staffing problems, Mr. Burkhard?” Captain Morrison asked. “I thought I gave you one of the best staffs in the fleet.”
“You did,” Burkhard agreed. “The fault wasn’t yours; it was the ship’s. There wasn’t enough interior space for the amount of crew we needed – especially in the medical area. In fact, we’ve only got one ship’s doctor on board, despite the usual two doctor requirement.”
Coles wrote something into his hand comp. “And just what did your chief engineer have in mind that would help with this problem?”
“Mr. Rappaport believed that six hours would have been long enough to re-cut and reseal the rail gun bays, which would have allowed us to replace them with more modern, double-barreled rail guns. This would give us both heavier firepower and fewer required weapons techs, and given us enough extra space to expand sick bay. He believed actually replacing the rail guns might not have required the tender, however, as long as we had the parts.”
Coles raised his eyebrows appraisingly. “An interesting modification. I imagine that would make this ship almost competitive with modern corvettes.”
Burkhard chortled. “Competitive? Oh, I imagine we’re quite competitive with modern corvettes as it is. Indeed, we’re hoping to convince the navy to buy her back into the service when the War Games are over. The Chihuahua has had a number of... unique, shall we say, modifications.”
“They would have to be pretty significant for me to suggest that the Navy re-commission a 150 year old ship into active duty,” Coles warned, not liking Burkhard’s boasting. In fact, had the ships’ captains not been instructed to critique Commodore Greene’s decisions, some of what he’d been saying would have qualified as insubordination, which rubbed Coles the wrong way. “I can certainly see why limited resources might have been refused a ship like this. I wouldn’t have bought her into the Navy even when she was first built.”
“I wouldn’t have, either,” Burkhard agreed. “But I’ll let our engineers explain what we did during the refit. Mr. Desaix, the cadet responsible for most of the refit designs, should be present when we reveal the surprises.”
Morrison goggled at that. “Mr. Desaix? You mean the tactics student?”
Burkhard hesitated. “I know he’s done impressively in the tactical sims, but I have yet to talk with him much on tactics, although our Marine CO has worked with him on one occasion. I do know he is a rather brilliant engineer, however.”
Coles snorted. “I’ve known good engineers who could deal with tactics, but not brilliant ones. The brilliant ones are typically too flighty to deal with something like that.”
“He’s pretty flighty,” Morrison agreed. “I gather he barely sleeps, and he’s not exactly a model officer. He also, uh, distrusts a lot of modern innovations. I imagine it must have been like pulling teeth to get him to include the quantum wheel I saw installed as we were shuttling in.”
“At first, yes,” Burkhard agreed. “But he talked himself into it.”
“Talked himself into it?” Morrison repeated. “What in the world does that mean?”
The door Burkhard had been leading them towards opened, revealing the main engineering section with all of the engineers decked out in their dress uniforms, from the burgundy red jerkins with black jean pants to the black deerstalker caps which had universally replaced the color-coded beret system just two years before (someone in the logistics bureau had apparently been bored… and a fan of Sherlock Holmes). They were lined up, at attention, lead by Chris Desaix, most fighting to hold back smiles. Rappaport was nowhere to be seen.
“Ah, good to see you again, ma’am,” he said, addressing his tactics instructor. “Welcome aboard.”
“Thank you, Mr. Desaix,” Morrison said, greeting her student, mildly amused. In the entire time she had known him, he had never been that formal with her or any other instructor she knew. Something was definitely up. “I heard that, somehow, you were convinced to allow quantum wheels and the like aboard your ship, and in fact convinced yourself to accept them. Just how did that happen?”
Chris shrugged. “I wouldn’t have installed quantum wheels as our primary drive system, ma’am. Classic fusion drives are still significantly superior to them for most applications. You might note, however, that we have reconfigured the standard quantum wheels for side-mount applications. This allows for certain other improvements in our design.”
“Such as?” Hodge Coles asked. “I’ve been told that you were responsible for certain ‘modifications’ which make your Captain believe this ship is competitive with current corvettes. I’d be grateful to know just what I should look for that would make this piece of junk worthy of purchase into the modern Navy.”
“Yes sir. We developed a few unique systems for the Chihuahua, which may be useful for the rest of the Navy as well.”
“What sort of ‘unique systems’ are those, Mr. Desaix?” Coles asked, looking down his nose at Chris condescendingly. “I do not appreciate the run around we’re getting on that.”
“Most significantly, we melded the side mount quantum wheels into a shielding system which covers over eighty percent of the hull from particle cannon and rail gun fire,” Chris replied. “Particle cannons might be able to penetrate those shields with enough concentrated and sustained firepower. It would take a fleet to do that, however; a single ship would be unable to without another modification we’ve developed – a near-streaming particle cannon system. I was tutoring one of my fellow cadets in engineering, and she happened to point out how an old, long-discounted concept could work if done using modern materials. I took the idea and ran with it.”
Coles couldn’t believe his ears. Two of the longest-sought-out concepts in military technology, developed by a bunch of academy students during a simple war-game. If they worked as well as was claimed.
“I have to admit I’m skeptical.” He finally said. “If they do work, I want to make my own estimates as to your their effectiveness.”
Chris shrugged and nodded. “A good place to start on those estimates might be the sensor logs from our recent combat drill with the Tarantula. Regardless, I think calling this a ‘corvette’ is a bit of a misnomer now that we’re done with her. Even when other ships get shields and near-streaming particle cannons, we’ll still have a heavier weight of fire with our particle cannons. Rail guns, in ship-to-ship combat, are going to become... less important, although still useful in some situations. Based on her current combat potential, I think the Chihuahua would rate as, say, a pocket frigate in the m
odern Navy.”
Coles was getting more and more frustrated at the seeming arrogance of everyone on board this ship. The Navy had been trying to develop shields and streaming particle cannons for centuries – and even if this ship had some new prototype design, it was his job to value their effectiveness, not their job to assume it worked right out of the box.
“We’ll see,” Coles said, taking a deep breath to maintain his calm. “Again, I’d like to see these systems in action.”
“As you wish, sir,” Chris agreed. “But I don’t want to test them nearby. While we have, of course, filed initial reports on our designs with the Navy Weapons Development Board and received their estimates, we haven’t shown the Fleet side of the Wargame everything we can do. Only the members of this crew and possibly Commodore Green are fully aware of the improvements.”
Burkhard was already walking over to an intercom. “Mr. Orff, please prepare the ship for another shakedown cruise, to start in thirty minutes. Mr. Coles would like to see us in action.”
“Yes, sir,” Orff’s voice came back.
“In the meantime, let’s get the rest of this inspection over with first, shall we?” Burkhard suggested.
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EAS Natsugumo
“Mr. Farmburg,” Commander Barbara Meier, captain of the Academy Frigate Natsugumo, called. “I understand you volunteered to escort the observer from the Cygni Confederation to the foreign observer’s pre-Wargame dinner on the Don Quixote?”
Joel nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Any particular reason why?” she asked.
It was not an unexpected question. There shouldn’t be any reason for Joel Farmburg to have an interest in anyone from Cygni. As a Cygni Confederation operative, however, Farmburg needed to meet with him. He was overdue for word from his handlers, and that could mean a change in plans. Were his people still planning on starting a war with Earth?
In short, Farmburg needed another reason for volunteering, which anyone but a complete incompetent would be prepared for. Not being a complete incompetent, he had one ready.
“I have a legal matter – civil law – to attend to, ma’am, and I heard that one of the Advocate Generals is attending the Wargame and will be observing from on board the Don Quixote.”
“And so you volunteered for the first shuttle run to the Don Quixote you could find,” Meier sighed. “We really need you here, Mr. Farmburg – the Wargame starts the day after tomorrow, and we’re at least two days away from completing our refit. If we delay much longer, we’ll miss our window for bringing in the inspectors.”
“My apologies, ma’am,” Farmburg said regretfully. “I signed up without realizing we would be at this crucial of a stage when it came time to make the run. By the time I realized just what the situation was, it was too late to cancel.”
“Very well,” Barbara sighed. “You’re dismissed. You can take shuttle three to the colony station, where a Mr. Dane Myles will be meeting you for the journey to the observation ship. Spend as little time as possible on this assignment, Mr. Farmburg, and maybe I won’t have to issue a reprimand for your poor judgment.”
Joel swallowed. He certainly didn’t want that. While he didn’t let himself appear unnaturally talented as an Academy student, he never allowed himself to do anything which would be serious enough to appear in his official records as a reprimand. He needed a near spotless record to do his job properly, after all.
“Yes, Ma’am. I won’t let you down, ma’am.”
“See that you don’t,” Captain Meier snapped, turning away from him in annoyance. Of all her officers, Farmburg was her least favorite. She couldn’t tell why, exactly – he always seemed to do his job fairly well – but something about him rubbed her the wrong way.
With a nod, Farmburg was off. He’d have to move at peak efficiency, and hope that Dane Myles did as well.
At least he’d finally be getting word from home.
——————————
EAS Chihuahua
While he still didn’t believe everything the Chihuahua’s crew was telling him, Coles had to admit that she was better outfitted then he had anticipated. Especially when it came to the things that the engineers hadn’t mentioned earlier, like the increase to her top speed and maneuverability that the unusual quantum wheel configuration provided. What bothered him, however, were the shields – they obviously worked against rail guns, given the tests they ran, but he wasn’t entirely sure about the crew’s estimate on their effectiveness against particle cannons. He would like to ask the crew for further tests, because he couldn’t believe the numbers they were giving him, but he’d been forced to cut his inspection short prematurely.
“I don’t know,” he said. They were in the middle of his final assessment debriefing, and he was ostensibly giving the Chihuahua’s people a final opportunity to make their case. In truth, he’d already made up his mind and was trying to justify his decisions to them. “We’ll have to take the specs of this system and study it some more before we can give an accurate estimate of just how much stopping power it has. I’ll also make sure the patent applications get entered properly in your names.”
“Thank you, sir,” Rappaport agreed. This was the first time he’d met the man who was the Chihuahua’s chief engineer. And he was only present, now, because Coles insisted. “But please ensure that Mr. Desaix and Ms. Katz are the only ones listed on those patents. I was not responsible for either innovation.”
“The final numbers will take some time and testing to calculate. Time we don’t have, with the Wargame starting tomorrow,” Coles continued. “I’ll have to provide some sort of preliminary guesstimate for the simulation. I’m afraid that I’m going to have to lowball the amount of firepower we’ll allow those shields of your to absorb. I’m going to say a direct, concentrated strike of all the particle cannons of an Argus class battleship will be able to penetrate the shield and do some damage, and work our figures from that estimate. If your numbers are accurate, it will be more powerful then that, but for the purposes of the Wargame…”
“You don’t want to give us an unearned advantage,” Rappaport agreed, keeping the hand he’d been using to restrain Cadet Desaix out of sight. “I completely understand, Mr. Coles, and I consider that an… equitable solution. Thank you, sir.”
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to inspect the Sirius. Commodore Green insists that we clear his flagship next, even if there is still some work ongoing. so you can have at least seven battleships in time for the opening action. Oh, and assuming things work as you have anticipated, Mr. Desaix, I do anticipate buying the Chihuahua back into the service as a pocket frigate, as you recommended.”
Chris was momentarily startled, but quickly recovered his tongue. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir, Mr. Coles.”
As Coles left the room, Rappaport released his unseen grip on the younger man. “Hodge Coles is a good man, Mr. Desaix. I hope you realize that.”
“He doesn’t show it, sir,” Chris snapped.
“Yes, but he’s a good man, nonetheless. Nothing he said was to insult you or the shield system. To be honest, I think he was low-balling us because he is an engineer himself, and knows how frequently experimental systems can go haywire in the field. The fact he allowed the streaming particle beams to pass, unchallenged, is remarkable. You should take it as a compliment..”
Chris hesitated before nodding. “I will, sir.”
“Good,” Rappaport replied. “Now, I hope you see just why a little patience and diplomacy might be a good thing, now and then? If you’d been a bit more humble in the initial presentation of the shield systems, I doubt he would have felt the need to rub you the wrong way.”
“If you say so, sir,” Chris said doubtfully.
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Shuttle, in transit to EAS Don Quixote
“So, you’re Joel Farmburg, are you?” Captain Dane Myles, the man assigned to observe the Wargame by the Cygni Confederatio
n. There was a time, once, when each invited nation would send a minimum of three officers for every Wargame, and those officers would frequently be of flag rank. As long as the event had been running, however, the spectacle was gone and most nations had dropped the number and importance of the delegation sent.
A lone Captain wasn’t unusual, anymore. In fact, it was generous – Iota Draconis, for example, sent a Lieutenant as their highest ranking observer. On the other hand, a few nations continued to treat this as a major event – the relatively tiny nation of the Larkin Triumvirate sent three full Admirals. Then again, the Larkin Triumvirate, also known as ‘Larkin’s Folly,’ was a bit of a special case.
Back in the early days of colonization, when everyone and anyone was heading to the stars to set up their own colonies as empires, three brothers of the rather wealthy Larkin family financed an expedition to the star known as 9 Puppis A, which afterwards came to be known as Larkin’s Star. Long distance observation had indicated that there were planetary bodies in orbit around the star, and that those planetary bodies were solid masses (and therefore were terraformable) but little more was known about them when the expedition left. As it turned out, there were actually three planetary bodies that were terraformable, but each was no larger than Earth’s moon. This worked out reasonably well, as each Larkin brother had his own planetoid to rule, but the tiny size of the three planets meant they weren’t good locations for empire building. Also, natural resources were very limited, as there were few mineable ores in the system as a whole. In spite of this, the three brothers decided they would form three separate ‘kingdoms,’ one for each planet.
At the time, there were hundreds of these ‘interstellar empires’ being born, since just about everyone who could afford an expedition wanted their own planet to rule. Many wars of conquest broke out between these empires in the rush to grab vital resources. Larkin was no exception, save that their wars were between the children of the three brothers, and the battles were all confined almost entirely to within their own single system. The small size of their three planets was what saved them from being trampled by the expansion of their neighbors. Who wanted three tiny, feuding planetoids when there were so many greater prizes to be won?