by Gary Beller
are doomed to failure. And I can tell you, no matter how
long you serve, your top NCO will always have more time,
and more real world experience.” Webb said.
I was about to respond to her when a whistle came
over the ship wide. “Now hear this: Department heads
report to the bridge. All department heads report to the
bridge.”
Lieutenant Webb stood up and was out of the
wardroom, without even saying goodbye.
***
I could feel the change in vibrations on the deck as the ship
came out of warp. Slight shifts in the gravity told me she
was turning, though how far I couldn’t tell, with no outside
view to get a reference.
Red lights flashed a half-second before the alarms
sounded. “General Quarters, General Quarters, all hands
to Battle Stations.” The Chief of the Watch said calmly. I took the ladder well down two decks to arrive at
the Combat Information Center. I arrived a moment before Lieutenant Webb, who directed me to take my usual station at the Sensors. Karissa arrived a moment later,
sitting next to me.
“What do we have, Mr. Ebert?” Webb asked. “Looks like a Banor cruiser. It’s coming around the
rings of the gas giant at 035 by 358,” I replied.
“Right. Torpedoes, find me a firing solution. Let’s
kill this thing quickly so we cango home.”
“Torpedoes locked, Lieutenant.” The Fire
Controlman said from the station I had occupied during
the last fight.
“Bridge, CIC. We have firing solutions for
torpedoes.” Webb said.
“CIC, Bridge. Weapons free.” The XO replied. “Torpedo control, weapons free.” Webb relayed. The sound of the torpedo tubes firing reverberated
throughout the ship, as the weapons left the ship with their
typical blaze of speed.
I tracked the torpedoes on my sensor board,
watching them reach the target, and smash through the
Cruiser. The explosions blossomed briefly in the vacuum
of space, sending debris flying away at high speed, before
fizzling out. Small fires, fueled by the ship’s atmospheric systems, burned from the hull breaches. The Cruiser kept
coming, firing her forward guns at us.
The first few beams went wide, missing us by a
hundred meters on both sides. Our return fire was spot on,
though. The Fire Controlmen in Gunnery Row were using
the long range visual sensors to target the fires on the ship,
landing their shots in the hull breaches rather than
splashing them against the heavily armored hull. One volley landed inside a hull breach and
produced a satisfying secondary explosion. That blast
blew through the ship’s torpedo tubes, indicating that their
magazine was hit.
“Torpedoes, aim for their engineering spaces and
fire.” Webb ordered.
This volley of Torpedoes streaked away and cut
hard, angling for the aft section of the Banor cruiser. The
cruiser attempted to turn away, and belatedly began firing
at the incoming weapons, but both efforts were exercises
in futility. The torpedoes, at first looking like they were
going wide, broke sharply and smashed into the ship. Two torpedoes hit the ship’s port side sub light
drives, shattering the engines. Two other torpedoes
slammed into the ship’s anti-matter fuel pods, causing violent explosions. The cruiser’s running lights flickered and died. The ship itself, halfway through an evasive maneuver when she was hit, was blown off course and
began a slow spiral.
Lieutenant Webb began a spirited conversation
with the bridge about what to do with the cruiser. Finally
an order came down from the bridge. “Load tubes One and
Two, maximum yield. Fire when ready.” She said softly. “She isn’t happy.” I whispered to Karissa. “No. But orders are orders.” Karissa replied as the
torpedoes launched.
The cruiser exploded brilliantly, sending debris
throughout the solar system, as the Armstrong turned
about and left the system at full speed.
Chapter 20
Earth loomed large in the windows on the Bridge. Africa and Europe were just starting to approach the terminator, slipping slowly into the darkness that meant local sunset.
The Armstrong came up and over the moon and began the final approach to Earth. During the six hour run between them, we began packing our bags to return to the Academy. Personally I didn’t want to return, but I knew I had to.
Several midshipmen, including myself, were invited to the bridge as the ship arrived in orbit. “Helm,” Captain McCormick said, “Bring us into high orbit.”
The ship turned slightly to enter orbit, falling in line behind an older destroyer, and the helmsman manipulated the throttle controls, slowing the ship down to just over 17,000 miles per hour before the main engines powered down.
“Bridge to flight control, flight deck is cleared for jumper operations.” Lieutenant Priester said over the ship wide.
We left the bridge and made our way to the berthing area and changed into our dress uniforms (A Navy tradition for ships returning from a cruise), and grabbed the rest of our gear, before heading back up to the hangar bay.
Inside the hangar, the jumpers were waiting for us to load up. I felt a pang of grief standing in the bay, since the last time we were here was to say goodbye to Howie. Walking past the front of the jumper, I noticed the brown and black marks along the underside of the small craft, leftover marks from the ground action.
Sergeant Raines called us all to attention, and Captain McCormick, Lieutenant Priester, and Lieutenant Webb entered the bay.
“Midshipmen,” McCormick began, “This cruise turned out to be a lot more eventful than any of us expected it to be. Even in the face of enemy fire, you acquitted yourselves well, responding to adversity with courage and determination. We lost a good man, and several shipmates were wounded, but still we stayed on mission and got the job done. Thank you, on behalf of the crew of the Armstrong.”
The three officers turned and left the bay, and Raines stepped forward.“Midshipmen, Right face!” He bellowed in his normal command voice.
“Prepare to board the jumpers, by column of files from the left.” He said, indicating that the squad I was leading would board first.
“Forward!” He yelled. The two squad leaders next to me responded, “Stand Fast!”
“March!”
I climbed up the ladder into the ship, passing my bag off to the loadmaster to stow, and took a seat next to the window. Karissa sat next to me and smiled. “Finally going home!” she said, excitedly.
“I can’t wait!” I replied.
***
The jumper set down on the landing pad and taxied to the terminal under a cloudless blue evening sky. The jet way extended and connected to the ship, and we made our way off the ship, into the terminal’s common area. Sergeant Raines directed us towards the waiting buses, which returned us to Bancroft hall.
I entered the room I had shared with Howie and set my gear on the bed, looking around. Two small boxes were stacked next to the door, waiting for someone to pick them up. The boxes, I presumed, contained the personal stuff Howie had decorated his half of the room with, and was going home to his family.
I took a deep breath, trying to center myself. I grabbed a piece of paper from my desk and began writing a letter to Howie’s family.
“Dear Mr. and Mrs. Vance,
I know we met only briefly, on family day.
My name is Jack Ebert, I was Howie’s roommate
cruise aboard the UCSS Armstrong.
Howie was an excellent midshipman, a
stellar football player and teammate, and my best
friend here at the Academy. All who knew him here
are heartbroken over his loss. He was truly one of
a kind.
We are all saddened by his death, but we
are better for knowing him. He motivated us,
inspired us, and was a natural leader. The
impressions he left on his classmates will be felt for
years to come, and in his memory we will carry on,
continue the mission he began.
No words, no matter how eloquent, can
properly console you. But know that your son, my friend, died a hero. He gave his life so others may live, and in that demonstrated his great love and compassion for those around him.
We will not forget.
M/4c Jack Ebert.”
I finished writing the letter, wiped tears from my eyes, and placed it inside the top box, before walking out of the room.
I found myself walking down by Annapolis Harbor, and found a bench to sit down on. The sun was high, the air warm, and the smell of the water was wonderful after spending most of the past three weeks breathing the sterile, processed air aboard a starship. I felt a pair of arms wrap around my neck, and almost panicked, until a soft voice spoke in my ear.
“It’s okay.” Karissa said, kissing my cheek. “I just wrote a letter to his parents.” I replied. “Might help. Closure and all that.” She said,
walking around to sit next to me. “There were moments, I really thought we’d never get back here.”
“Why wouldn’t we?” I asked.
“We had a battleship shooting at us. You had actual Banor soldiers firing at you.” She explained.
“We made it through. Had to, Football practice
starts in three weeks.” I said.
“Always comes back to Football.” Karissa said
with a much put-upon sigh.
“Football is life.” I said with a chuckle. “You going
home?”
“Yeah. Still have to come back for Cheer Camp.
How about you?”
“Yeah. Might be good to get away. Spend some
time in civilian clothes.”
“You’re in Columbus, right?” She asked. “Yeah.” I said.
“I’ll be in Dayton, at my grandmother’s house. It’s
not that far…”
Epilogue
Navy-Marine Corps Memorial Stadium, Annapolis, MD, Sept 1st, 2159 Middle Linebacker Mike Elliot, our on-field Captain, looked me in the eyes. “You ready?”
“I’m ready.”
“I can’t hear you. Are you ready?”
“I’m ready, Sir!”
“Good. Get after it!”
The kickoff was high and deep, sailing into the end zone. Wisconsin’s Freddie Edwards took it out and sprinted down field. He cut inside to avoid a gunner, then juked right as our wedge busters blew up his blocking front. He spun off Elliot’s attempted tackle, but I hit him squarely, wrapping him up and driving him to the ground at the 19 yard line.
The defense took the field, and for the first time in my career at Navy, I was on the field with the starters. “4- 3 Base, Lion Twist, Will Fire. Cover 1 Man.” Elliot said.
As we waited for the offense, I looked over my shoulder. The Strong Safety was in his usual position, but there was no Free Safety. A hush fell over the crowd as they saw the odd formation. The Offense saw it too, and came out not in an attacking formation, but in the Victory formation. Elliot waved his arms, as if signaling a fair catch. Everyone knew there would be no real play.
Wisconsin’s quarterback snapped the ball and took a knee, and their tight end shook my hand. “Hey, Five-Oh. Thanks Bro.” He said.
“Thank you, man.” I said.
“Sorry for your loss.” The man said, before returning to his huddle. The coach sent a defensive back in to take the Free Safety spot, and we went back to work.
On 2nd and 11, I dropped back into coverage, staying with the tight end I had just exchanged with. The quarterback snapped and dropped back, then lofted it. I turned my head, saw the ball, and saw my opportunity. I extended a hand, grabbed the ball, and pulled it in, wrapping it up in both hands, then turned myself around and sprinted down the sidelines towards the end zone.
I crossed the line and dropped the football, for a moment lost in the feeling. The crowd exploded with cheers and applause. Karissa was ecstatic as I ran back to the sideline. “Pass by MacMiller intercepted by Ebert, returned for a Navy TOUCHDOWN!” The PA system bellowed.
Sergeant Raines was waiting for me at the bench. “That one’s for Howie, Jack. Now you’re playing for your brothers on the field.”
“Yes, Sergeant.” I said.
“Kick coverage!” The Special teams coach yelled.
“Gotta go.”
“Keep making plays.” Raines said.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
GARY BELLER is an American Science-Fiction author. He grew up the son of a career Navy man, and moved around a lot as a kid, before finally settling down in Northern Illinois.
When he’s not writing, Gary works for a not -forprofit helping adults with developmental disabilities, spending time with his girlfriend, and enjoys sports. He is the proud father of two wonderful kids. Follow him on Facebook at http://facebook.com/garybellerwrites or on twitter, @Gary_Beller