by David Tatum
“At ease,” Lee said. “Get comfortable, everyone. We’re too crowded for formalities, today, and we’ve got a lot to cover.”
The sound of feet shifting as people adjusted themselves accordingly could be heard for the next few seconds, though few people actually looked ‘comfortable.’
With a nod from the Vice Admiral, Flag Captain Ivan Zettler (Craig Lee’s Chief-of-Staff) stepped forward to officially begin the meeting.
“On behalf of Vice-Admiral Craig,” Zettler began, “I would like to welcome you all for coming. While this is the official strategy meeting, attendance was optional for all but a few of you. We’re please to see so many of you decided to attend.”
In truth, Zettler was not complimenting everyone for coming, but admonishing Captain Wendkos of the Tarantula for not producing his exec. That calculated reprimand was not something Craig had or expected Zettler to give. Lee would have to take the man aside in private to discuss the matter with him. Zettler was a new addition to her staff, replacing – of all people – the very man who was currently in charge of the Academy Fleet, ‘Commodore’ Green. Zettler had come well-recommended, and was known for being able to take the initiative without having to wait for orders, but he still needed to be familiarized with her command style.
“I would also like to thank Commander Kip Skudra of the Tarantula,” Lee intervened, hoping to negate the sting of Zettler’s words. “Who wanted to come, but who I personally ordered attend to a certain detached assignment.”
Zettler winced. “Yes, well... with this number of people attending today, we’ll skip the introductions. Most of us know each other, anyway, but when called upon please let everyone know who you are and which ship you are attached to. Admiral?”
Lee stood from her chair at the head of the table, steepling her fingers behind her back in a nervous gesture. She hated speaking before large crowds like this, but that was a fear she had to keep silent even from her closest associates if she wanted to be taken seriously. She had long since developed the habit of locking her hands together out-of-sight in order to keep them from waving about.
“Most of you, I suspect, think this year’s Wargame is going to be a cakewalk for us,” she said, casting her gaze around the room. The trick was to make every officer think that she was talking directly to them without making herself more nervous by locking eyes directly with them. “I admit, at first, I thought the same. Recent reports suggest things might not be so one-sided, however. I believe we must proceed with a more conservative, cautious strategy than I had originally hoped for.”
That drew a few brief murmurs from the crowd. Save for the crew of the Tarantula, not a single man in the Fleet had any reason to believe that there was any need for a ‘conservative, cautious approach’ to these war games. They had been looking forward to the freedom an aggressive strategy would allow them, a freedom rarely allowed in most exercises.
“Zettler, the rundown?” Lee said.
“As of right now, we’re unsure how many ships the enemy has managed to re-commission. As old as the Sirius class is, they’ve probably had to fabricate replacement parts. With that sort of delay, the number of completed ships may be in the single digits. There is, however, the possibility that the ships which are completed may be more dangerous than anticipated.”
It was Craig’s turn again, but thankfully it was only to introduce the only person with first-hand knowledge of just why the Academy fleet might be ‘more dangerous than anticipated.’
“One Academy corvette, the Chihuahua, was completed early enough for combat drills,” Craig began. “With no other Academy ships in commission, they requested we send a few ships to practice with. The controlling officers of the Wargame felt that it was a reasonable request, and directed me to send them a corvette. I sent Captain Wendkos and the Tarantula, and he brought back some rather alarming intelligence. Captain Wendkos?”
Wendkos stood up slowly. From his expression, it was plain to see he was feeling a bit spooked.
“My Tarantula is one of the newest ships in the fleet. The Hornet class was produced using the same technological architecture as the Argus class battleship – in fact, every piece of advanced technology adopted for the Argus class was tested, first, in Hornet class corvettes like the Tarantula. The Chihuahua is over a century old, and any attempts to refurbish her should have been limited by the obsolete architecture in her structure. Therefore, in terms of class performance, there should have been no comparison. “
“However, this was not evident during the drill,” Wendkos continued, activating the holographic projectors to provide a rotating three-dimensional representation of the ship he had encountered. “The Chihuahua clearly has undergone extensive modification, as demonstrated during our combat drills. Visual observations alone showed that they had replaced the antiquated sensors with modern systems. The new sensors give them targeting and tactical systems up to modern warship standards. Furthermore, the addition of the hydrogen collection towers, seen here, indicate the inclusion of a cold fusion reactor inside the ship. More unusual, however, was the addition of quantum wheel emitters... but on the side of the ship, not on the rear, while the fusion drive was retained.
“As it turns out, that was their greatest innovation. She was incredibly fast – the fastest warship I’ve ever seen, and I am not naive enough to believe they let us see her top speed. She also came to a dead stop faster than just about any ship I’ve ever heard of. None of those are the important facts, however. What is important I can sum up in just six words: They have working energy shields.”
Murmurs arose at that information, many of them in disbelief. Craig understood the doubt. She had been just as skeptical until she reviewed the logs of the action herself. She had a better perspective than anyone else on the situation – she knew ‘Commodore’ Green better than any of the people present, which gave her a pretty good idea of just what state the Academy fleet was in.
“A thought, Admiral?” the battleship Yamato’s captain interjected, receiving a nod from Craig to continue. “This is a Wargame, after all, so any weapon effects are being simulated by computer. Could their shields be just a simulation instituted by the control cell as a handicap to even the odds?”
“No,” replied Craig, once more taking her place at the forefront of the table. “The existence of this shield technology was confirmed not only by the testimony of Assistant Naval Constructor Hodge Coles, who is in charge of estimating weapon and armor effectiveness for all Wargame simulations, but also by sensor logs from the Tarantula. The Chihuahua was running live shields – not some simulated handicap. The good news – at least from a Wargame perspective – is that we know there are weaknesses to the shield system. Moreover, it’s unlikely that every Academy warship has been equipped with it. We’ll still need to use caution before engaging in any sort of action, however, until we learn which ships have it and which don’t. Consequently, before we can start any large-scale operations, we need to ascertain just what the state of the Academy is. We need intelligence badly.
“To that end, I have asked Commander Kip Skudra, the exec of the Tarantula, to officially commission the Orbital Guard cutters Valhalla and the Sleipnir for the duration of the Wargame. We will be sending these ships into both the neutral and the Academy systems as scouts. We believe a simple external scan of each ship will provide us with the necessary information, as our technical analysts believe the side-mounted quantum wheel nodes act as the shield emitters. Once we have that information, we can make our plans accordingly.”
The sounds of whispered conversation between captains and their officers rose and fell, but to her surprise no-one was asking any questions. As Zettler dismissed the meeting, Craig took a deep breath. The hard part was out of the way – now all she had to do was fight a ‘war.’
CHAPTER XX
Orbital Guard Cutter Sleipnir
“Captain, I’m receiving an odd transmission,” a voice called through the intercom. Commander Kip Skudra, now the ac
ting-captain of the Sleipnir, could not identify the voice on the intercom. None of Sleipnir’s crew were regular Navy, having been ‘loaned’ to the Fleet by the newly formed colony’s Orbital Guard along with the three armed cutters. Being addressed as ‘Captain’ was an event Skudra had long looked forward to, but he was rather disappointed with this, his first command. Nevertheless, he was resolved to command her to the best of his ability.
“A transmission? Who from?” Skudra’s ship had been the only presence in the neutral system since they arrived. His surveillance mission expired in only two more hours, and if he made no contact before that deadline he was to return to Fleet space for further instructions. His crew was to comm him the second any hint of another ship was detected. It shouldn’t be possible for someone to get close enough to transmit a signal without his having a warning of their approach, first.
“It... it appears to be a remote buoy, sir. Pre-recorded transmission, sir – a looping message on repeat. We didn’t see it until the transmission began.”
A buoy? Why would they be getting a transmission from a buoy? For that matter, how did a buoy get placed there before they arrived, anyway?
“Put it through. And give me the whole thing, from the top.”
“Yes, sir,” came the voice from the end, followed by an electronic click as the transmission was being set up for him.
The voice on the other end was one he wasn’t familiar with, but he recognized the authority indicative of a command-grade officer behind it. His comm system automatically started running voice-print software, and within a few seconds displayed a tagline indicating that the voice was Commander Jonathan Daniels, Captain of the battleship Superb. The speaker wasn’t important, though – it was the words which followed that caught his attention.
“Attention, Sleipnir. This is Task Force One of the Academy Forces. Our orders were to destroy any ‘Fleet’ ship we encountered in this system, but Admiral Mumford informed us to regard the Yggdrasil’s cutters as armed civilian craft on Fleet’s side rather than ‘regular’ Naval vessels. With this in mind, we used our discretion to bypass your ship. Consider yourselves lucky.
“By the time you hear this, you will have failed what we assume to be your mission – that is, to scout out enemy ships and give advanced warning of any approach to your home fleet. Because, as of this moment, Task Force One is currently in your home system, engaging in operations... and it is too late for you to stop us.
“Sorry about that, but we thought you might enjoy a consolation prize. Therefore, please allow the Ad-Hoc Sirius Symphony Chorus to regale you with a lovely ballad to demonstrate that we hold no grudges against you.”
The speaker left for a moment, and soon an odd synthesized music started playing, a very ancient form of music. The words accompanying it were a tune Skudra had never heard before, but were so hauntingly upbeat that he couldn’t help but feel humiliated.
“The wind was rising easterly, the morning sky was blue,
The Straits before us opened wide and free...”
Skudra couldn’t help but listen to the entire refrain of Old Superb before turning off the speaker. A wrenching feeling was forming in his stomach. He wondered if allowing the Academy fleet the opportunity to deliver this kind of taunt was enough to cost him that better command in the future.
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EAS Colony Station Yggdrasil
Vice-Admiral Lee Craig was in a meeting with the Yggdrasil station’s director going over some last-minute logistical details when the alarm sounded. The meeting also included a simulated electronics fault that was jamming in-station communications, and coincidentally Lee was unable to contact her people to find out what the alarm was about. She didn’t have to wait for an answer, however, as one of the civilian colonists burst into the room, panicked.
“Excuse me, Vice-Admiral, Director Morisato, but I think this could qualify as an emergency,” the colonist said between gasps for air. “Long-range sensors are detecting a squadron of Academy ships infiltrating the system.”
Craig’s eyes widened. Her greatest strategic advantage in this war was her knowledge of Acting-Commodore Green’s tendencies. Green, she knew, stuck precisely to the book for tactical problems. The book would definitely not approve of any sort of sortie into the Fleet system at this juncture. And yet here they were.
“Please tell me it’s not a large force – half of our ships aren’t able to move until we’re done with the last-minute set-up of the Yggdrasil station!” Craig said, unable to rein in her frustration at being caught off-guard.
“I was reporting to the Director,” the colonist snorted. The glare that the Vice-Admiral sent him in response caused him to swallow some of that civilian flippancy. “But I might as well let you know, too. It appears to be just four or five ships, though at that range we can’t be certain of their numbers. Tracking seems to indicate that it’s a single battleship and three or four corvettes. Only one of the corvettes is moving, but it’s coming extremely fast. Too fast to safely maneuver, I’d say.”
Well, that fit the Commodore Green she knew a little better. He would never agree to any large-scale operations against them, at this stage of the war, but he might be talked into authorizing a scouting mission if his subordinates were persistent enough. Failing to anticipate such an operation might have been a slight failing on her part, but she could easily turn this mistake into a victory.
“Too fast to maneuver, eh?” Lee mused. “Not a bad idea to try and speed through our ranks before we can react, but I think it’s going to be ‘fatal’ for whoever is aboard that corvette; we’ve spotted them too early. Message to all ships on watch status: target the projected flight path of that corvette, and open fire as you bear. Director Morisato, does this station have any form of command and control facilities?”
Morisato nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I don’t believe they’re up to military standards, and they still require some post-deployment set-up, but they should be sufficient for viewing the action.”
The Vice Admiral nodded. “Very well.” She turned to the colonist and asked, “Could you get in touch with the rest of my staff on this station and ask them to meet me in the command and control center, ASAP?”
“Sure thing, boss!” the colonist chirped, disappearing before Craig could say anything in reply.
Shaking her head, Craig addressed the station director. “Mr. Morisato, I think when this is all over you need to talk to your people about protocol. I understand he’s a civilian, but ‘boss’ is not the proper form of address for any naval officer... much less a flag officer.”
——————————
EAS Chihuahua
At the precise moment a certain buoy started transmitting to the Sleipnir, Academy Task Force One initiated their synchronized operation in Fleet space. All four ships emerged from hyperspace at extreme sensor range, with sensors scanning outward as soon as they were through the temporary rips they had created between normal space and hyperspace.
An open data feed was immediately forwarded from the Inkadh to the Chihuahua, and in less then a minute Rachel Katz, with Captain Morrison ‘observing her work’ over her shoulder, had managed to plot an optimum safe path through the enemy ships and orbital structures. And just like that, the Chihuahua was off.
“Well?” Burkhard asked.
“My sensors show they’re reacting as expected,” Rachel said after a moment. “Although they’re being more subtle about it then I would have thought. And only about half of their ships appear to be prepped for action – I’d say they were a touch overconfident.”
“Not surprising,” Burkhard muttered.
“Rache, could you send me the real-time data on the Yggdrasil station?” Chris asked from his position as the bridge engineering liaison. “I would like to see just how much of the post-deployment set-up has been completed. Oh, and I’d like to see if they’ve made the modifications necessary to turn their terraforming station into an EMP weapon.”
“Time to the first turn?” Schubert asked from the helm.
This was Cohen’s responsibility from the backup tactical position, but for some reason he didn’t respond right away. Rachel looked in his direction for a split second, seeing him looking awfully confused.
“Mr. Cohen?” Burkhard prompted.
“Sir... I’m not sure what to make of it. I... I think I’m experiencing a terminal malfunction. I... the data isn’t making sense.”
Chris looked up. “Should I check it out, Captain?”
Burkhard nodded. “Go ahead. Ms. Katz, please take over for Mr. Cohen until the problem is resolved.”
Rachel clucked, but checked the data anyway. The reason for having two tactical officers on the bridge at once was more than just to provide redundancy – it was to allow the tactical officers to concentrate on just one or two points of data at a time, and to forward more precise results to the needed people. However, it was not unreasonable for her to assume both jobs, in this case – just unexpected.
“One minute until we hit the nearest ships firing arc, so... first turn in forty-five seconds, mark.”
“Son of a bitch,” Chris muttered from Cohen’s station. “Sir, we have a simulated malfunction on the sensors, tracked to a virus introduced by the Wargame control committee, signed Hodge Coles. We’re apparently scheduled to have a variety of malfunctions over the next two days, and this is one of them... and there is nothing we can do as a preventative measure for them. This ‘simulated malfunction’ concept is a potential navigation and safety hazard, goddammit! I do understand the need to simulate unplanned defects, but not this kind, and not so early out of port! Give us a few days to see what she’s really like, first!”