by David Tatum
Burkhard coughed, and Anne Morrison shifted uncomfortably. Both were in silent agreement with the cadet, but neither were exactly comfortable with his lack of professionalism. “Mr. Desaix, please watch your language while we have a guest on the bridge,” he noted, pointing to Captain Morrison. “That said, is there anything you can do to fix it?”
“Sorry, sir. I’ve already done what I can – I gave it the ‘pass code’ and my student id number. It says I have to remain here for three minutes, enter it again, and then the station will be ‘released.’”
Burkhard sighed. “Well, it can’t be helped. Return to your own station – we’ll have Mr. Cohen handling that malfunction.
“Yes, sir,” Cohen said, flipping a few switches.
“In the meantime, best guess for when to turn, anybody?”
“By running the numbers for dead reckoning, and assuming no unexpected ship maneuvers by the Fleet, I think we turn in ten seconds,” came from Rachel’s position. “Five. Four. Three. Two. One... mark!”
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EAS Colony Station Yggdrasil
“I’m still having trouble believing what I’m seeing.” was the greeting Vice-Admiral Craig received as she entered the command and control room, already occupied by Captain Zettler and a few civilian workers.
“Status?” the Vice-Admiral snapped.
Zettler snapped to attention. “It appears, ma’am, as if the approaching ship is traveling at a speed of over 0.3c in normal space and turning at the same time. The remaining ships continue to hang back, observing.”
Craig’s eyes widened, but only for a second. “Well, we knew they’d developed some pretty impressive tech in the Academy. I wonder if this is another one of Cadet Desaix’s inventions?”
Morisato, standing at Craig’s side, blinked. “Desaix?”
“He’s being credited, according to the Wargame control cell, with the development of shield technology and other unspecified advances.” With a rueful grimace, Lee continued, “It appears as if we’ve just seen a demonstration of one of those unspecified advances.”
Morisato coughed. “Yes, ma’am. I thought that name sounded familiar. If he’s who I think he is, I’m quite familiar with Mr. Desaix. As an intern, he was on the development team for this station.”
Lee turned to the man for a moment, raising an eyebrow. “How much does he know? I would think, as an intern, his access to much of the classified technology would be limited, but if you know him personally....”
“Only by reputation, ma’am,” Morisato sighed. “K1 offered him a long-term contract, but he was determined to join the Navy. Him turning down the deal was big news in the rumor mill when it happened. He was heavily involved in some of the satellites and ancillary vehicles – designed one of them, in fact – but I doubt he knew much more than what the promotional material stated about the station itself. I think there was more to him then I knew, though, because there were classified documents in his personnel records I was not given access to. I have no idea what those records dealt with, but I’d assume they had something to do with the Azumah Station Incident.”
“Just my luck,” Craig muttered. “My one opportunity to lead the Navy in the Wargame comes when the Academy has a bloody engineering genius available to design things like shield technology and impossibly fast ships.”
“Ma’am,” Zettler called. “We’ve identified the corvette as the Chihuahua... and she’s coming directly for this center.”
Craig winced. “Crap.”
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EAS Chihuahua
“Captain,” Chris said from his engineering station. “Now that the simulated malfunction has been corrected, I was able to evaluate our current situation. The dead reckoning turn was closer than we had any right to expect, but it still put us slightly off course. If we follow our intended flight plan, the Chihuahua will get within firing range of Yggdrasil station.”
Burkhard turned to him. “How serious of a problem is that likely to be?”
Chris shook his head. “Not a problem, an opportunity. Yggdrasil station has a command and control center which would be an excellent target – both for the damage to system defenses and the potential to hit significant personnel. With a very minor course correction, this command center will pass directly within our firing arc. We may pass within the range of an EMP blast if we do, but only if they’ve completed modifications to the terraforming satellite. Based on the current data, I don’t believe they have.”
Burkhard nodded and hummed to himself in thought. “Feed the target over to Mr. Cohen and let him calculate the course correction. Copy it over to Ms. Katz so that she can evaluate any threats you might have missed. Mr. Schubert, I expect you to be ready to maneuver at a moment’s notice.”
“Standing by,” Schubert answered, having plotted the course change on his board before Cohen’s corrections had arrived. He’d worked it out for himself the moment Chris had started speaking.
“Make the correction. Mr. DiMarco?”
Cadet Midshipman Luke DiMarco, the Weapons Control Officer on duty, shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I think I’ve got a usable firing pattern already plotted, but I’ll need Mr. Cohen’s course corrections to be sure.”
“Sent,” Cohen noted.
“Plotted,” Schubert shot back almost instantly, noting with a glance that Cohen’s data matched his own.
“Making minor correction... and ready, sir,” DiMarco answered crisply.
“Fire when in range.”
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EAS Superb
Commander Jonathan Daniels noticed that his tactical officer, Naval Reserve Lieutenant Thomas Eure, was gaping at his readout. Sighing, he decided to figure out what had the man in such a state.
“Report!” he snapped.
Eure shuddered slightly, turning to the Superb’s captain. “I think Burkhard is insane.”
Daniels raised an eyebrow. He might have expected that of a younger cadet, but a reservist was supposed to have had enough training to avoid such undisciplined statements.
“Explain,” he finally said.
“The Chihuahua is actually strafing Yggdrasil station. In doing so, they’re putting themselves in the firing lane of the EMP satellite and possibly as many as a dozen warships – they’re going to get themselves ‘killed,’ pulling a stunt like this, sir,” Eure explained.
Daniels sighed. If he hadn’t known Burkhard, he might have agreed with Eure. Knowing Burkhard, though, he figured there was some plan in mind that was more likely to work than not. That assumed Burkhard was in charge, however – the Wargame Control officers were known to ‘replace’ the regular captain at certain strategically difficult moments, just to gauge how well the junior officers stepped up to more senior tasks in a crisis. Daniels thought it was a little early to for them to start that kind of thing, though.
“The Chihuahua is a rather impressive ship with a rather impressive crew. They may know something we don’t,” he said. “And I would suggest that you not call one of my in-laws insane in my presence.”
Eure winced, realizing his mistake. “My apologies, sir. I was... taken by surprise.”
Daniels sighed. “Of course. Just remember not to do it again.”
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EAS Chihuahua
“Enemy ships are about to lock weapons onto our flight trajectory,” Rachel warned. “Estimate fifteen seconds.”
“Mr. Schubert?” Burkhard snapped.
“Ready, sir,” Wolf shot back.
“Begin maneuvers in five seconds,” Rachel said. “Three... two... one....”
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EAS Superb
“Enemy ships are firing on the Chihuahua, sir!” Lt. Eure reported. “She can’t avoid... Uh, never mind. I...”
Daniels waited, but nothing further came from his tactical officer. “Well?” he prompted.
Eure shook his head
in disbelief. “Sorry, sir -- too much happening at once. The Chihuahua dodged crossfire by decelerating to a complete stop in the three seconds of time it took for the incoming fire from the enemy ships to reach their trajectory. Then, they went back to full acceleration... after launching a rail gun assault against the command and control section of the Yggdrasil station. They’ve now managed to speed out of firing range before anyone was able to lock a new firing solution on them.”
Daniels shook his head. Very little surprised him about that particular corvette, and nothing surprised him about what his brother-in-law could manage.
“As I said, Mr. Eure,” Daniels finally sighed. “She is a rather impressive ship.”
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EAS Colony Station Yggdrasil
Vice-Admiral Lee Craig continued to gawk at what the sensor readings told her, no longer able to maintain any visible sense of composure. “The reports... We had advance warning about that technology, we knew about the personnel well enough to prepare for them, and still... “
A cough came from behind her. Spinning around, Craig was greeted by the contrite expression of Assistant Chief Constructor Hodge Coles, who had just arrived for his final inspection of the Yggdrasil station for the war games an hour earlier.
“I just received a transmission by this system’s chief Wargame Control Officer, from on board the Hippopotamus-class tender Fruit Bat. He wanted me to relay a message, as no Control Officers have been assigned to the Yggdrasil Station just yet.”
Lee nodded, gesturing for Ivan Zettler and Morisato to come up beside her. “Go on, Mr. Coles. How bad is the ‘damage’ he’s assessed?”
“No offense, ma’am, but I’m afraid that is no longer your concern,” Coles sighed. “Everyone in this command and control station is a KIA-casualty, for the duration of the Wargame. No exceptions, although civilian employees such as Mr. Morisato may resume their normal civilian duties provided they avoid roles supporting naval personnel or functions.”
“I’m sorry, say that again?” she goggled.
Coles laughed bitterly. “Ma’am, if you believed that being the commander in chief of the Regular Navy forces would grant you some form of immunity from the casualty lists, I’m afraid you’re mistaken. I believe the quote that he gave me was, ‘Sometimes, in a real war, important leaders are killed right off the bat. The Navy must learn to cope with that in a drill, so that when it happens in real life we are prepared.’ And so, ma’am, I fear you have been ‘killed.’” His next laugh was entirely genuine. “Actually, ma’am, think of it this way – until the Wargame has ended, one way or another, you get a paid vacation. From here on out, it’s Rear Admiral Honeycutt’s war to fight. You are welcome to continue to observe, however.”
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EAS Chihuahua
“Mission, completed, sir,” Rachel reported as the Chihuahua outran all pursuers to reunite with the rest of the task force. “And we still have a secret or two we haven’t shown them.”
Burkhard grinned fiercely. “Well, now – I suspect even ‘Commodore’ Green will have a bit of praise for that, even if we didn’t quite go ‘by the book.’”
PART III: THE PROMOTION
OF PAWNS
CHAPTER XXI
61 Cygni, Orbital Drydock
“Ambassador,” Captain Tager said in greeting, as Noriko Goldsmith entered his office on the Valkyrie. They were still all still stuck in 61 Cygni, so he was a bit surprised to receive a visitor. “To what do I owe the honor of your return to my ship?”
Goldsmith hesitated, glancing around. “Captain... Is your ship ready to fly? I mean, in an emergency?”
Tager considered. “Well, the quantum wheels haven’t been fully re-tuned yet, and there are some other maintenance issues we would like to take care of, but in a pinch we could get the ship underway in a couple hours. Why?”
“Where is Vice-Admiral Breslau’s fleet? And how quickly can we rendezvous with them, assuming you left as soon as possible?”
“I’m not sure where he would be at this time,” Tager replied. “He was given free reign to navigate his squadrons where he felt appropriate, and was only required to make check-ins at certain locations. I wouldn’t be able to catch him even if I knew where he was, though. I could make it to one of those rendezvous points in few days, however. Again, why?”
“It may already be too late, but we have time critical intelligence that must be delivered to his squadron and to Home Fleet,” Goldsmith said. “And I think you’ll see why time is of the essence when you hear what that information is....”
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Sol System, Earth Orbit, EAS Mohawk
Admiral Ken Pratchet sighed as he completed the last of his paperwork for the evening. This particular set of paperwork was supposed to have been done by Captain Theodore Bradford of the Camel, who was in charge of the escort forces for the science expedition which had left for Pleiades just hours before. It should not have been his job at all, but in some convoluted way – partly due to the massive manpower drain brought about by the Wargame – he was the only person left with the authority and knowledge to complete it.
He sipped on his coffee and looked outside of the observation deck of his flagship, the Argus class battleship Mohawk. Normally, these massive windows were covered by thick doors and the exterior image was a motion-reduced projection instead of a genuine view of space. However, that was only when the ship was moving – while in a station-keeping orbit and not on alert status, those doors could safely be opened. The view was quite popular – especially for those inevitable young couples that developed on co-ed warships with thousands of crewmen. There were some token regulations made in an attempt to keep fraternization from damaging the performance of the crew, but it was kind of hard to prevent a little bit of romance from developing in a service branch which had grown on the backs of a pre-FTL Navy employing sublight ships to get to the stars. When centuries of Naval tradition required its members to ‘to procreate in sufficient numbers that the ship can be manned and maintained for several generations of flight,’ rules against fraternization were hard to bring back.
Pratchet was neither young, nor (since becoming a widower) part of a couple, yet he had definitely been in need of some stress relief when he received the word that Bradford had left without completing most of his required paperwork. The observation deck was suitable for his needs, although he was a little ashamed at chasing away a couple of blossoming young lovers just so that he could relax a bit. Nevertheless, he loved looking out at the stars and the colors of the universe.
He saw something odd when he looked up this time, however. He quickly reached over and pressed a comm button. “Admiral Pratchet to the Bridge.”
“Bridge, here, sir.”
“I’m down in the observation deck, and I’m seeing what looks like either a meteor shower or a large number of ships approaching. I wasn’t informed of either, so I’d like to know what’s going on.”
There was a long pause. “Sir... I’m not picking anything up on the passive scanners, so I assume it’s a meteor shower of some kind. I’ll go to active to confirm, however, if you would like.”
“Proceed.”
Another pause. “You’d better get up here, sir. I’ve asked the corvette Pike to confirm, but... I think we have a bloody armada incoming.”
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Earth Alliance Naval Academy, Admiral's Office
“Admiral McCaffrey!” a panicked aide cried, storming into the Admiral’s office in the Academy facilities. “Sir! We’ve got an emergency, sir!”
McCaffrey snorted, glancing up at the man. “Lieutenant Hrkac, calm yourself, take a deep breath, and explain. Considering where we are and what we’re doing, there’s hardly much chance of your emergency being so vital that you give yourself a heart attack trying to deliver it.”
Wade Hrkac, the Flag Lieutenant assigned to the (nearly empty, at this time) Ac
ademy Head Office, didn’t pause to take a breath as ordered, nor did he calm down. But his words explained exactly why in a heartbeat. “Sir! There were no plans for the Wargame to have any operations in Earth orbit, were there?”
McCaffrey frowned. “Of course not. Why?”
“Because that is the only alternative explanation for the large fleet which was just seen in orbit. Sir, Earth fleet is under attack!”
McCaffrey stood up, horror dawning on him. “Under attack? By who?”
“We don’t know yet, sir,” Hrkac explained. “The war room is being set up as we speak, and Admiral Pratchet is relaying transmissions as close to live as possible.”
“Lead the way!”
McCaffrey had only been to the Academy’s earth-side command and control center a few times in his career – it rarely was run by anything other than Academy officers and their immediate supervisors as part of their training, even if it was as fully equipped as any other Naval stations C&C center – so he needed Hrkac to guide him. Otherwise, he probably would have sprinted there faster then the lieutenant.
“Admiral on deck!” the call went as he stepped inside. There was a mere skeleton crew available at the Academy due to the Wargame. Nevertheless, in the short time since the attack, the staff had managed to find people to man each station. But not a single one stood to attention or even flinched when McCaffrey entered the room – they were all too busy, or too absorbed in what they were seeing to notice.
“Report!” he demanded, ignoring the slight. This was a situation where infringements of the rules of protocol could be forgiven.
Captain Jyrki Ahonen, the current Chief of the Watch and a former staff member of McCaffrey’s, stepped up and saluted him. “A large force of ships, apparently employing stealth technology the likes of which we are unfamiliar with, has entered Sol system, bypassing outer defenses and approaching Earth orbit. Admiral Pratchet on the Mohawk was the first to see them, and he sent the Pike to investigate. Pike was destroyed before it could complete its report.”