by David Smith
"So someone is going to draw the short straw."
"Yes, sorry sir, can't think of another way to pack them in. The stretchers just take up too much space" Chen apologised.
"Don't worry about it Lieutenant, it's actually better than I thought it was going to be."
By then, the two engineers had fixed the deliberate malfunctions the Commodore's staff had put in the turbo-lift circuits and several of the compartment doors and ASBeau began loading up the first group of casualties.
The orderlies secured them and Chen allocated a nurse to go back with them. Within minutes, Stavros lit up the engines and blasted away, rolling the shuttle to get it through the slowly opening doors.
An hour and fifteen minutes later, 10% was back on Tiger and the rest of the medical team, led by Commander Katrin Mengele, unloaded the evacuees and checked them over to see if any of them had been given instructions about treatment or any other simulated illness. Stavros didn't even bother with pre-flight checks before taking the shuttle back out and plummeting down to the surface again.
Landing the shuttle in a hurry, he hopped out and shouted to the waiting orderlies, "Load 'em up, but watch the hull, re-entry was a little hot!"
The orderlies led twenty armoured marines out, plus one on crutches who would have been uncomfortable in full battle-armour. He was allocated the co-pilots seat and his less fortunate comrades were loaded into the rear of the shuttle. Chief Money's Heavy Gang took out ratchet straps and began lashing a marine to the bulkhead.
Lieutenant Povey stared aghast: "What the hell are you doing?? They can't travel like that!!"
ASBeau had been expecting some sort of comment and calmly replied "Sorry Lieutenant, we're working to a squeaky tight schedule. We only have time for two more shuttle flights, but have to get all the remaining forty-three of your people off planet and back to the ship."
He could see the shock on the young Marine's face and added "Don't worry, those cargo straps are way stronger than the belts on the seats. You're guys won't be going anywhere until our orderlies untie them!" Pausing briefly, ASBeau decided he'd better broach a slightly delicate matter concerning the last shuttle flight. "We do have one more slight problem, Lieutenant. We can only lash twenty marines in the cargo compartment, but have to carry twenty-one back on the next trip......"
Five Marines were unceremoniously lashed to anchor points on each side of the bulkheads in the cargo area with ratchet straps, and the remaining ten tied in between them and lashed to anchor points on the deck and deck-head.
The crew barely had time to shut the cargo compartment door before Stavros powered the engines up and shot out of the Hangar again.
Returning for the third time, Stavros came in even hotter, and the medics flinched from the heat of the shuttles hull. Time was running out and the Heavy Gang braved the heat to start strapping the Marines into the shuttle’s cargo compartment.
Dave called ASBeau to find out things were going.
“We’re just packing them in now, sir”
“Who drew the short straw?”
“The Marines were very fair about it, sir. The youngest marine is riding shotgun.”
“Is he ok?”
ASBeau paused “”Ok” isn’t exactly the word I’d use. “Drunk” maybe? Either way, he can’t back out now.”
“And did you find out who will be reporting to the Adjutant on our performance?”
“Yes sir! Lieutenant Povey will report to her in person” replied ASBeau.
“Excellent! Thanks, ASBeau, I’ll see you in a few days time.” He changed the comm channel to speak to Commander Mengele. “Good evening, Commander. Stavros is on his way back with the last of the evacuees. Among them is Marine Lieutenant Povey, who will report on our performance. Please ensure that we make every effort to impress him with our diligence and professionalism.”
The Commander thought about this: “We are short of staff, but have co-opted a number of the Yeoman to assist us. I suspect Yeoman Pui Xiao will make an appropriate impression on the Lieutenant.”
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On board 10% Stavros powered up the drives, rolled the shuttle through the doors of the Hangar once more and threw her into an incredibly steep climb, subjecting everyone on board to huge G forces. Stavros discretely wound down the volume on the comm circuit from the unfortunate young Marine strapped to the towing points on the outside of the shuttle’s hull.
His screams of terror had been deeply upsetting for his comrades in-board, but not as unsettling as when the screams subsided to soft whimpers and calls for his mummy.
Stavros continued to press 10% hard. He was watching the mission clock counting down and knew that timing was everything. As the shuttle broached the atmosphere the nav system picked up Tiger above and astern of her. Still accelerating, 10% reached orbital velocity and Stavros caught sight of a bright star behind them.
On board Tiger, Stavros’ team checked the progress of his shuttle, lowered the pressure in the Shuttle Bay, raised the force-field that kept the atmosphere in, and opened the Bay doors.
10% was still accelerating and soon Stavros could make out Tiger’s shape as the distance between them closed. As planned, Tiger passed overhead just as 10% matched her orbital speed with that of her parent vessel. Popping up behind her, Stavros killed the engines and used thrusters to guide his shuttle the last few meters onto the deck.
As soon as Stavros landed the shuttle and the magnetic locks clamped on securing the shuttle to the deck, the bay doors closed and a green light on the Helm console let Lieutenant Lyle know the shuttle was safe. She immediately pushed the reaction drive to 105% and accelerated hard around the planet using it’s gravity to slingshot Tiger onto the required trajectory.
Once the ship had left the gravitational influence of the planet, Lyle checked the ships heading and speed and reported to Dave in the Captains chair: “Course set, sir, full acceleration, ETA six hours and sixteen minutes.”
Dave called down to the Hangar Deck where Commander Romanov had personally taken charge of repairs to the three sabotaged shuttles. “How are our three birds looking Commander?”
“Surprisingly good, sir! Whoever spiked the shuttles did it very, very carefully. They could have ripped the equipment out and cut the cables, but everything’s been carefully disconnected. Even where they have had to cut cables, they labeled them so we’d know how to reconnect it. Whoever did all this made it look a lot worse than it was. We’ve got one shuttle ready and the other two will be done with time to spare.”
“That’s excellent news Commander, please pass on my thanks to your team. Hollins out.” He made a mental note to thank Commander Chamberlain and Chief Cash too. Dave checked the countdown clock on the main view-screen. Six hours and eighteen minutes. They were going to make it!
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Seven hours later, Lyle had brought Tiger back to her berth astern of Arcturus Station and the crew were winding down after completing the tough mission.
Commander Chamberlain contacted Dave: “Congratulations Commander, I’m not sure how you did it, but I’m told that all fifty Marines are aboard Tiger. Lieutenant Povey couldn’t speak highly enough of the standard of care he received on the way back. In fact, he’s asked if he can stay aboard for a few days.”
“I suppose that wouldn’t hurt” said Dave with a barely suppressed smirk on his face.
“Unfortunately I had to decline on your behalf.” Chamberlain looked down, checking something on her desk before continuing. “I’m sending you the co-ordinates you are to Transport the Marines to. When they’re gone, I’ll be beaming across to brief you on your next mission.”
“Can the brief wait a couple of days Commander? I’ve got a couple of senior staff unavailable at the moment.”
“Sadly for you Commander, it can’t. At the Commodore’s insistence your next mission has already started.”
“WHAT?!? We still need to collect eleven of our crew from Arcturus Delta Four.”
“Ah! So that’s how you beat the time limit! I made sure you had one shuttle available, but I couldn’t work out how you’d get everyone back on board within the time limit. That’s naughty Commander.”
“The requirements were to get the ship and injured civilians back to the Station within twenty-four hours. There was no requirement to get all the crew back” Dave pleaded.
“Hmm, that is true” said Chamberlain with a broad smile on her face “but you’ve just made life even more difficult for yourself on the next mission. Meet me in your Officer’s Mess in ten minutes: bring whatever you have left of your senior staff with you!” she giggled.
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“Before I begin, can I just congratulate you on a series of quite spectacular performances. I’ve been trying to temper the Commodore’s more extreme requirements, but from what I’ve seen, he could have asked anything and you’d have found a way to do it ahead of schedule.”
“But now I have to tell you that this is far and away the toughest assignment, purely because it will be both mentally and physically demanding. Your mission is to patrol the outer edge of the Arcturus Delta system. You will be given random tactical assignments over a two week period, most of which will be to locate and attack a target with phasers or torpedoes. You will come under attack from Range vessels either directly or in ambushes as you follow a prescribed patrol route. Some will attempt to leave the system. You must intercept these and prevent them from reaching the Oort cloud that marks the boundary of the star-system.”
“This mission started as soon as you returned to Arcturus Station, so you’re already behind schedule. I shouldn’t tell you this but your first target assignment is due in about eleven hours, so you need to get underway real soon.”
“The prime criteria for the test is a one hundred percent hit rate on the targets and one hundred percent successful interception of range vessels trying to leave the system. Other particular tactical exercises within this mission will have additional pass criteria and pre-requisites that will be declared as they arise.”
There were groans and grumbles around the table. Normally ASBeau would have been delighted with such an assignment, but he was conspicuous by his absence. In his place a very nervous looking Lieutenant Janus sat quietly.
“As this mission is to test endurance and stability as much as anything else, I’ll be staying aboard myself to observe operations first-hand. I’ll be watching from a variety of locations to ensure that the crew observe the mission rules and also so I can comment generally on the crews performance and effectiveness” she concluded.
“Commander, if we leave now we’re down to three hundred and forty crew, and we’re missing our Tactical Officer. We’re never going to be able to maintain an alert state for two weeks. Isn’t there anything we can do to get a delay?” pleaded Dave.
“In a word, no” she said trying hard to look aggrieved on their behalf. “On the positive side, this is the last mission. Suck it up and do this guys, you’re nearly home free!”
Chapter 9
Dave sat and stewed on his own in his quarters as the ship moved into position for the start of the mission. Things were worse than Dave thought. In addition to forty-four of the crew still in the brig, the next day was marked by an apocalyptic level of hangovers, as the crew “relaxed “ after their supposed triumph in the Med Evac mission.
Somehow a further three of the crew had managed to transport over to Arcturus station, where one had been arrested for being drunk and disorderly, and the other two (equally drunk, and only marginally less-disorderly) crew members were arrested for trying to break him out of the Station’s Brig.
Another crew member had apparently decided enough was enough and was refusing to go back to Tiger at all. He was currently in the Station Brig awaiting psychiatric evaluation. A fifth crew-member had simply disappeared, a truly spectacular feat considering they were on a military station, crammed with some of the most sophisticated surveillance devices ever invented.
He was down to three hundred and thirty-four crew, and since the brawl at Arcturus Station, Tiger was about seventy bodies short in operations, including his Tactical Officer. The two week patrol mission didn't sound overly onerous, but it was always the case that tactical exercises like surprise attacks would be held at random times to test the crew's response.
Worse, Dave suspected that the Commodore would go out of his way to make life as uncomfortable as possible.
He could expect to have the main body of the crew repeatedly called to action stations, with the possibility of frequent calls when they were off duty.
Normally, he'd have the chance to cycle the crew between different duties. Being about seventy crew short, his opportunities to shuffle his bodies around would be limited. He certainly couldn’t reduce the relief shifts: they were a bare minimum to monitor the ships essential functions and keep watch. On the other hand the “day shift” was the full crew required to run the ship at its maximum capability. He’d have to carefully thin down the “day shift” or fill out the gaps in the roster with the less capable free-hands, such as the Science Teams and ….. he gulped at the thought ….. the yeomanry.
He was still pondering this problem when the Red Alert klaxon sounded.
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On reaching the Bridge, Dave took his place in the Captain’s chair, knowing Captain LaCroix would be otherwise engaged: “What’s happening?” he asked.
Lieutenant Janus, ASBeau’s relief, answered. “Two vessels came out of the asteroid belt, sir, they’re moving away from us. Sensors have identified them as enemy vessels, probably light cruisers of unknown origin.”
Dave responded automatically “Ok. Dolplop, plot an intercept, keep them between us and the asteroid belt, maximum acceleration.”
“Course plotted, sir.”
“Lieutenant Lyle, execute!” Dave ordered.
Lieutenant Lyle engaged the drive with a small moan of pleasure and Tiger leapt forward at warp speed, easily catching the two vessels. Janus put an image on the view-screen and Dave recognised two old “Bode” class heavy scouts, ships that were no longer suited to front line duties, but had found a role simulating enemy vessels on the Ranges. As the sensors scanned the two vessels, the tactical software loaded for the mission overlaid simulated data about the two vessels, identifying them as enemy vessels and listing their theoretical capabilities.
The two vessels were both slower and less-well armed than a “Constitution” class heavy cruiser, and they turned away as soon as Tiger got herself into position to open fire on them, retreating back to the safety of the asteroid belt.
Well, that was easy, thought Dave.
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Long days passed …….
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“Two more coming out! Bearing one four four by two zero six, heading …..”
“Log it and queue them!” yelled Dave. Using the controls on his chair, he designated two other ships and said “Bag these two next!!”
He stared at the bewildering tactical display on his view screen as seven vessels attempted to break-out of the asteroid belt in different directions, and Tiger’s probes and shuttles raced away from their mother-ship trying to keep watch on more remote parts of the asteroid belt in an effort to give them early warning of other attempted break-outs.
He hadn’t slept in forty-eight hours, and some of his Bridge crew had been on duty even longer. They were tired, and they were making mistakes that they couldn’t afford to.
The minefield they’d laid a few days ago would force three of the ships to take evasive manoeuvres that would slow them down enough for Tiger to get back into position to intercept them, but in the meantime, Tiger still needed to be in two different places at the same time as the other ships went in completely opposite directions.
Just in the nick of time Stavros called in from the warp-drive shuttle Faraday. “My sheep has turned tail, sir. What’s up next?”
Picking out a small courier vessel as something the shuttle could usefully intercept, Dave transmitted the co-ordinates to Faraday and immediately turned his attention back to the other red dots scurrying for the edges of his tactical display. It was like trying to herd cats…….
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Dave awoke with a start as the Klaxon sounded.
“Red Alert! Red Alert!” warned the computer.
Ensign Ellen Farnell, Lieutenant Lyle’s relief officer at the Helm, scanned the incoming ships and read the data off his console display “Two enemy heavy cruisers bearing zero nine two by zero six eight, heading …. Zero one …. I mean one zero …… oh crap. They’re heading straight at us.”
Dave tried to focus but he was so tired ……
This was the …… how long had they been on this exercise?? He couldn’t remember and had spent so much time on the Bridge he couldn’t even use duty periods to estimate how many days they’d been underway. He couldn’t remember that last time he’d posted an entry in his log book, and he’d only left the Bridge to go to the toilet over the last three? Four? days.
Poor Lieutenant Shearer had suffered the embarrassment of needing to pee just when a major engagement was developing. They hadn’t even had a chance to clean her chair, and the relief Comms Officer, Junior Lieutenant Cavaleiro had stoically stood at the Comms Station for eight hours straight before giving in when he realised he couldn’t nod-off while standing up. Grumbling something about the smell and his dry-cleaning bill, he’d eased himself into the chair, groaned in relief and almost instantly started snoring.
“Sir, they’re raising shields!!”
Dave physically jerked as his Helmsman squeaked in alarm.
Christ, he’d just completely zoned out on the job!
“Shields up! Arm phasers! Hard to Starboard!” Dave barked.