by Kal Spriggs
“Excellent. This is known as the Taihoshi Quotient among military tacticians. There is a trade-off between firepower, size, and speed. Ironically, battleships are not only better armed, but also faster than smaller vessels such as corvettes and frigates.” Commander Terrence gave a sigh. “Ships can offset that by building larger drives in smaller ships, but only at a marked decrease in firepower. Why might this seem an effective trade-out… Candidate Summers?”
“Uh, because they’re faster?”
“Congratulations at repeating what I just said to you… but no, I did not hide the answer in my lecture. Candidate Dawson?”
“A deeper drive field is also tougher, which means that a ship is not only faster, but less vulnerable to damage as well,” Dawson said.
“Excellent,” Commander Terrence said. “A corvette with the equivalent of a cruiser’s drive would have the durability of a cruiser… until firepower overwhelmed its drive at least. Now, what is the exception to that rule, Candidate Summers.”
“Uh, envelope drives, sir?”
Commander Terrence nodded, “Yes, but why?”
Karmazin raised one hand, “Sir, it’s because they use a completely different drive. Missiles and fighters are small enough that they can project a warp envelope rather than a full sized field. This allows them to utilize less power to produce a larger gradient to attain high relative velocities. The shape of the field allows for the sharper gradient… but the field geometry limits the total size of the field.”
Commander Terrence turned to face him, “Very good, Candidate Karmazin. I’m tempted to let you teach this class.” I felt shock at Karmazin’s response. How had he known that? I had known about warp drive envelopes, but I hadn’t put that together with the idea of warp missiles or fighters. “There’s another downside to their field geometry, in that it limits their maneuverability. A normal tactical warp field can maneuver in any direction with no time delay. Warp missiles and fighters, however, are far less maneuverable and have between a ten and thirty degree turning arc.” Commander Terrence looked around at us before he continued, “Now then, there is an upper limit to tactical drives, what is that Candidate Summers?”
“Light speed?”
“Was that a question or a statement?”
“Uh…” I closed my eyes. Come on, don’t mess this up for the rest of us, I thought. I realized, with a shock, that I was enjoying the class, despite Karmazin proving himself to be a know-it-all. “Sir, the upper limit to a tactical drive is the speed of light.”
“Well, not exactly the speed of light, but very nearly,” Commander Terrence said. “Actually, you can adjust the drive field of a tactical drive to take you faster than the speed of light, but this can cause issues with particle screening, drive calibration, and pesky little issues like distorted gravitational effects.” He let out a chuckle, “Trust me, as entertaining as it might be, it is not recommended except in emergency circumstances… such as when your other drive might be out.”
Commander Terrence gave a firm nod, “That leads us to the strategic drive, which Candidate Karmazin aptly called an FTL drive.” He peered around the room. “Typically, we in the military call it either ‘Faster Than Light’ or the ‘strategic’ drive. This is because it allows strategic movement from one star system to another and also because it does, indeed allow us to move faster than light. As you can see, we in the military are sticklers for calling things what they are… so, Candidate Grainger, what makes the strategic drive different from the tactical drive?”
“Sir, it allows us to move up to eight times the speed of light,” Grainger said. Despite myself I groaned a bit as she got that wrong. I wasn't the only one.
“It does allow substantially faster travel than that, Candidate, with an upper limit of eight light years per day, but why does it allow that without the issues which I mentioned for the tactical drive?”
Grainger sat there, a blank look on her face. I raised a hand, “Sir, because the drive coils are aligned differently and rather than creating a drive field, they shift the vessel slightly out of phase with the rest of the universe, allowing it to bypass any issues with red and blue shifting and interactions between the drive field and objects along the vessel’s course.”
“Excellent, clearly you and Candidate Karmazin will be the tutors for this class,” Commander Terrence said. “Indeed, the strategic drive shifts a vessel out of phase with the rest of the universe, in effect, not just warping, but twisting, so that the ship and its drive do not directly interact with the rest of the universe. Our current drives do allow us to attain velocities as high as eight light years per day, roughly two thousand nine hundred and twenty times light speed… not, as you said, Candidate Grainger, a mere eight times light speed.”
“Like the tactical drive, larger strategic drives can take a ship faster, though the upper limit of the drive field is indeed the eight light years per day. This is why larger cargo ships are more economical than smaller, in addition to the cube rule which allows greater cargo capacity.”
“Now, who can tell me why…”
***
“This, junior space cadets, is a Mark Five Firebolt Attack Fighter. It is a first generation warp attack fighter, almost the oldest designed fighter craft capable of warp speeds. The Firebolts are old, if you’ve been reading up on your history, you’ll already know this: the Firebolt was the primary fighter craft used by the Star Guard in the First War, that means they’re almost three hundred years old.” The senior petty officer waited a moment to let that sink in. He didn’t seem satisfied by the expressions on our faces.
“This one here,” he patted the fighter next to him like a horse or pet dog, “Fought in the First War, when the Guard fought the Culmor in the Sepaso Sector. We bought it and over two thousand others for just under scrap prices. These fighters are so obsolete that it cost more to ship them out here than it did to purchase them. We spent a bit more refitting them and upgrading their sensors, communications, and weapons systems.”
He looked around the group and I saw some impatience in his expression. “Well, out with it, someone ask the question you all have on your minds.”
Sashi, of course, was the one to stick out her arm, “Senior Petty Officer Kennedy, Candidate Drien, why did we buy obsolete attack fighters?”
“Excellent question, Candidate Drien,” he said. “And it is one that all of you should be able to answer on your own. There are four reasons, each of them easy enough to reason out that even cadet candidates like yourselves can figure out.” He looked around, “How about some incentive? Assume the front leaning rest. We’ll do some push-ups for each wrong answer… won’t that be fun?”
No one answered as we all dropped to the cool pavement. At least we weren’t outside in the full summer heat. Two months, seventeen days, I thought to myself. It didn't have quite the same bite as it used to. I didn't have regret, exactly, but it was odd to think that I was nearly halfway through.
“Miss Drien, since you asked the question, you can provide the first answer for it,” Senior Petty Officer Kennedy said. “Why did our nation buy over two thousand obsolete Firebolt fighter craft? Just one answer, we wouldn’t want to rob your fellow classmates of the opportunity to expound upon the question.”
Sashi was silent for a moment. I felt a surge of sympathy, but she was the one who wanted to be here. Friend or not, she should be able to take the pressure. Me, I just wanted to keep my head down at this point. Finally, Sashi spoke, “Senior Petty Officer Kennedy, I would say that the Firebolt is a rugged craft and we can more easily repair and keep them active compared to other vessels.”
“Excellent,” he responded. “Very true. The Firebolt is one of the most rugged fighter craft ever built. We can produce the maintenance parts relatively easily and those parts we can’t produce we can stockpile and build up a reserve.” I could feel his gaze go over our platoon like the baleful eye of a basilisk. “Candidate Summers… what is another reason?”
I held back
a groan as he said that name. My arms already ached from holding this position, I didn’t want to guess how many pushups we would have to do. As if to punctuate that thought, Summers spoke, “Uh, Senior Petty Officer Kennedy, because after we upgrade them, they’re just as good?” I could hear the uncertainty in his voice. I had no doubt that Senior Petty Officer Kennedy could as well.
“That’s a wonderful guess, Candidate Summers,” Senior Petty Officer Kennedy said with a tone of good cheer, “Not even remotely accurate, though. Fifty push-ups, all of you.” No one groaned aloud, not at this point. We all knew better. I moved through the exercise mechanically. It helped if I just turned off my brain. Even so, my arms quivered with exhaustion as I finished up the last few. I knew that no one but me was counting out mine. For that matter, I could tell from how quickly some of my platoon had finished that they had done less than the required. Still, it felt wrong to do less than the full effort… even if it was from the petty tyrants that had the charge of us. Once it became clear we had all finished, he spoke in his lecturer’s tone, “The Mark Five Firebolt Attack Fighter is not as capable as more modern fighter craft. It has a narrower drive envelope, meaning it carries less munitions. Its maneuverability is less than thirty percent that of even a third generation fighter craft. Its power reactor is barely capable of powering the drive envelope, which means its onboard weapons are painfully inadequate when compared to a fifth generation attack fighter.” He paused and waited.
“Candidate Summers… would you care to wager another guess?” The gentle tone in Senior Petty Officer Kennedy’s voice suggested just how important it would be for Summers to get the next guess right.
“Uh… Senior Petty Officer Kennedy, because the Firebolt is cheap?” Summers asked.
“Excellent,” Senior Petty Officer Kennedy said. “Indeed, the Firebolt is very cheap, as I said. We bought them in bulk and we were able to buy a lot of them for the money we spent. Other nations can afford the newest and the best, some of us have to make do on a more limited budget.”
I held back a groan as my arms quivered. Summers had taken my guess with that one. Now I had to think up something quick, because…
“Candidate Armstrong, what would another reason be for our use of the Firebolts?”
I bit my lip. I knew he’d call on me, just as I’d known Sashi would volunteer and Summers would guess wrong. I forced myself to let out a tense breath as the muscles in my back quivered. Think, I thought to myself, Senior Petty Officer Kennedy always clues us in, I just need to catch the hints he’s dropped. I thought for a long moment. The only conclusion I faced was one that was dark, darker, in fact, than I thought he might find acceptable. Still, I had yet to sugarcoat an answer, and if they hadn’t liked my attitude, well, they knew why I was here, just as I did. Finally, I gasped out, “Senior Petty Officer, because they and their pilots are expendable?”
There was dead silence, then. I could have heard a grain of sand drop on the other end of the hangar. I could almost feel the shock and anger of my fellow candidates. Then again, I knew I was right… those pilots, just like all of Century’s military forces, were expendable.
“Candidate Armstrong, that’s an interesting statement,” Senior Petty Officer Kennedy said finally. “And it is one that even many officers forget. You, your equipment, and your personnel are expendable. Whether you die in service in our nation’s defense or you muck up and crater your bird into the side of a moon, we have to be prepared to replace you. A billion credit fourth generation fighter with a fully upgraded and implanted pilot would bankrupt us under any sustained loss rate.” I could hear a tone of resignation in his voice, “The sad truth is, in an outright war like against the Dalite Hegemony, many of you will die, either in Firebolts or aboard our armed merchant ships or aboard our military auxiliaries, or even aboard our military warships. It is a cost we are willing to pay, a cost we may be called to pay to defend our nation, our people, and our way of life.”
I kept my mouth shut at that. It felt unfair to me. More than that, it seemed pointless. What was the point of military service if we were just pawns to be sacrificed? Yet, some part of me thought about my parents and my younger brother Will. If someone attacked here, would I be willing to risk myself to defend them? What would it say about me if I couldn’t? It wasn’t a question I wanted to ponder just then, but it was one that I knew would come back to me, especially later that night.
“Good job, Candidate Armstrong,” he said. Someone nearby gave a derisive snort, and I could feel his attention zero in like a guided missile. “Candidate Karmazin, since you have an opinion on Candidate Armstrong’s argument, perhaps you would care to enlighten the rest of us?”
There was a painful silence, during which I felt my face flush and the ache in my arms, back and shoulders reached a crescendo. I dared a glance over at him. His face was flushed red and I could see his arms tremble. He didn’t look much better off than me. Finally, I heard Alexander Karmazin speak, his voice sullen, “Because it’s good enough.”
They waited in silence for a long moment. Finally, Senior Petty Officer Kennedy spoke, his voice neutral. “Candidate Karmazin, was that a statement to me?”
I barely withheld a curse. While I'd come to appreciate him and his skills, sometimes he still managed to irritate me. Doing something as simple as forgetting how to address the instructor was one of those things. “Senior Petty Officer, because the Firebolt is good enough for what we need.”
“Very good, Candidate Karmazin. Very Good. You are correct, the Firebolt is sufficient for our purposes. Most of the pirates, raiders, and rogue nations that might attack us don’t have fourth or fifth generation fighters themselves. For our purposes, the Firebolt is more than sufficient. That’s a point that many people, especially civilians who don’t know any better, don’t realize. We don’t need fifth generation fighters, not when we can use upgraded first generation fighters to keep ourselves safe. Also, when we might face a more advanced enemy, such as the Culmor, we have numerical supremacy to maintain overall equivalency.” Senior Petty Officer Kennedy paused a moment, “Recover.”
“Recover, Aye Aye,” we managed to respond in unison.
“Move,” he said. I wanted to collapse to the cool concrete and gasp for air. Instead I popped to my feet as quickly as I could. My head spun and for a moment I saw spots, but I assumed the position of attention.
“Very good, class, now make sure you actually do your reading assignments, I wouldn’t want to have to repeat this every day,” he gave them a thin smile. “Now, we’ll examine the features of the Mark Five Firebolt…”
***
Chapter Sixteen: I Play Some Silly Games
“Jiden,” Ashiri Takenata said softly.
I sat up in bed, half asleep and thinking I must be late for class or a mission, everything muddled in my brain. “What?” I asked, far too loudly.
“Shhh,” she said and glanced out in the hallway. “Don't blow this.”
“What's going on?” I asked in a lower tone of voice. Ever since our return from the Grinder, we had a more reasonable schedule, six hours of study time after our classes, time when we could work and even talk together. We also had eight hours of rest time... and that was when Ashiri had chosen to wake me.
I had stayed up late studying because some of the classes just weren't clicking as well as I wanted. I had a fear of scoring low on some of the tactical and military classes. Just from my squad, Conklin and Wallace were gone, told to pack their bags after repeated warnings from our teachers still hadn't caused them to bring their grades up. I wanted to avoid that fate. Really, I wanted to get my scores up so that they would look good when I showed up to my internship at Champion Enterprises.
Not that the classes I was worried about had much to do with what I’d be doing at Champion Enterprises. The lessons on insurgency and how to make improvised weapons were bizarre, to say the least. At least now I knew why Cadet Marris had known so much about mixing cleaning supplies. We’d actually
had a lab where we produced toxic vapors out of ordinary household supplies… and another one where we made improvised bombs. It was scary and terrifying… and I had to admit to myself that blowing things up was kind of fun.
Not that I’d ever share that with someone like Tony or my parents. They wouldn’t understand and I’d get some look of horror or something.
“Come on,” Ashiri said quietly, “follow me. This is important.”
I grimaced, but I climbed down from the top bunk and followed her. We ended up downstairs in the basement, in a small room off the corridor, just down from the laundry rooms and the mural with my grandfather's name that still gave me goosebumps every time I passed it.
I thought this was where some of the others gathered for study groups. I'd seen some of the others in study groups, but I'd been focused on studying, so I hadn't really spoken with anyone besides Sashi.
“What's going on?” I asked as I walked into the room.
“This,” Ashiri Takenata said, “Is an intervention.”
“What?” I asked.
Ryan Zahler, one of the twins, spoke up, “We went through the Grinder together, Jiden, and you haven't said three words to us over the past week. We know you're busting your butt, but so are we.”
I shook my head, “I'm sorry, I've just been caught up. It's not like I've been avoiding you...” I thought back and then realized with a shock that in some ways, I had. I'd focused on my studies... even though I knew that some of my squad were doing worse than I was.
“Sorry,” I said after a moment, “I should be working with you guys, not on my own.” I saw smiles break out and I gave them a sheepish smile of my own.
“All's forgiven,” Ashiri said and clapped me on the back. I was amazed at how the reserved girl had grown over the past couple months. “To be honest, we don't just study down here. Mikuluk ran a link to the entertainment network, we've got some games, music, even a few videos.”