by Chris Hechtl
“It means the devil you know is far less scary than the devil out there coming to eat you,” Rick explained. “Or to put it in another way, keep your friends close, but your enemies closer … no, that analogy doesn't fit,” Rick said with a shake of his head.”
“Close but no cigar,” Yorrick replied dryly.
“Pretty much. If we put enough emphasis on positive controls, we might get a chance to use them again in a limited venue. But we'd have to find a way to make them,” Rick said. “And get permission to try. Just getting permission would tie us up and nothing would get done.”
“Like reinventing the wheel,” Yorrick grumbled as he watched the president shaking hands with various people and pose for images. “Does this guy ever shut up?” he asked softly, just loud enough for Rick to hear.
Rick snickered, covering his mouth.
~~*^*~~
Wendy Lagroose was also at the keel-laying ceremony, dressed in the latest fashion trend with a paid escort on one arm. She saw her brother snickering with a crony and sniffed. Rick Krawley of all people? She saw her brother glance her way and looked away quickly.
~~*^*~~
A week later a groundbreaking ceremony was held for the naval academy. In a feather in Earth First's cap, the navy had been arm twisted into accepting a former Marine base on Earth as the site of the facility. The groundbreaking was of course attended by all the bigwigs in Earth First including President Carlton. Senator Dewalt was quite pleased that the facility was being constructed in old America.
Until the buildings were complete, the midshipmen were housed in the bases barracks and used the gym and other facilities. Admiral Kepler had intended the facility to be in space with zero G training and plenty of simulators. Instead, they had to find a work-around for some of the syllabus or ship the students up to space for special classes.
~~*^*~~
Trevor Hillman shook his head as he noticed how things were going with the navy. He'd written tons of bots for them and still volunteered his time to help with their computer consulting needs, but he knew he could do more.
He set aside several of his projects and dived into the late Athena's mainframe and memory files. He tried to find anything that could help them. It took him hours before he realized the answer was staring at him in the face.
“Jenkins, we need to get some coding people in here. I think we need to place everything on the back burner for the moment. I've got a priority project,” he said as he looked at Athena's legacy files.
“Why? What's up?” Jenkins asked.
“I think we need to build you a brother or sister …”
~~*^*~~
Discussions were held between the naval captains whenever they were together and had the free time. Some of the discussions helped them iron out problems and find solutions. Many discussions brought problems up to the attention of others. The captains had learned to record some of the discussions and pass on their brainstorms up the chain of command if something of particular weight seemed valued enough to draw to their attention.
“You realize that rail gun rounds are one hell of a threat to navigation, right? They don't just disappear or fade away. And if they are small enough, a radar array may not see them,” Captain Varbossa said.
“Just another thing we have to look forward to,” Captain Renoir said. “I hope they don't expect us to try to keep in mind the shipping or planets behind us. We can't have our hands tied like that. It is too much to have to consider,” he stated.
“I know. But it is something we have to keep in mind.”
“Yeah, right. I think we're going to have to leave any defenses up to the fortresses and defenses behind us and concentrate on staying alive and kicking ass,” Captain Renoir replied. “That's going to be hard enough in my ship as it is,” he grumbled.
“Heh. It's not just our rounds we have to worry about. It's the enemies too. You realize they'll be firing back, right?”
“Frack,” Captain Renoir said. He lapsed into cursing in French for a moment.
“My sentiments exactly,” Captain Mnard rumbled once his fellow captain had wound down.
“We're going to need to … I don't know, track the rounds. Pass on the telemetry to anyone we can. Mark the time, direction, and such as a hazard to navigation.”
“Small enough rounds will burn up in atmosphere I think. Maybe. It all depends on what they are made out of and how fast they are moving,” Captain Varbossa said dubiously.
“Tungsten and uranium? Don't bet on it,” Captain Renoir said grimly. “If they are traveling at a high enough fraction of C, bad things will happen.”
“I know.”
~~*^*~~
Roman shook his head as he checked on the progress. The navy was really coming along, and he'd even gotten a few side benefits in extra funding for the Marines too—not a lot but a little. It had allowed him to cover and recruit new personnel to cover the holes in those who transferred to the navy.
It was interesting to note that a lot of the new recruits and a majority of the navy were not Neos. Not many of the Neo species were stepping up to service. Apes and dogs were stepping up to the navy, but not in large numbers.
He knew why it was. They'd been treated so poorly by the government there was still burning resentment over that. Plus, many of the species were just not set up mentally to work in a social setting in a confined environment like a ship or station.
It was just another thing the recruiters were going to have to work on he thought.
~~*^*~~
Walter shook his head as the first of his brood finished his preparations. Tiffany was torn between pride and fear he knew. The fact that any of his kids had decided to follow in his footsteps to join the navy made his heart swell with pride. Taylor would be the first in uniform; he'd already passed the officer exams, not that there had been any question about that.
The twins, not willing to be shown up by their elder brother, had followed a day after he'd taken the test. Renee had been a day later. She'd missed the cutoff by 24 hours and hadn't been happy about it.
Walter had put Taylor in a ship right off; the kid was a fast learner and was settling in as a JTO on the destroyer Duty and Honor. The way the navy was expanding he could see his son moving on to top billing in the tactical department within a year and possibly even as a captain of his own ship within four … once he got some seasoning in him.
He was a bit more hesitant about the twins, so he'd left them in the system for the time being. Kenneth wanted to be a pilot, which bothered him a bit; the pilots had a very short life expectancy ratio.
Upon Tiffany's silent urging, he had insisted Renee complete her semester before he made a decision there, putting her off. She hadn't been happy but had accepted the decision.
He knew he might be putting off the inevitable; Renee was like him and so much like her mother. Stubborn to the core, and the more you denied her something she wanted, the more she would go after it. That was fine with him, but she needed to understand he could only cut so many corners for his family. Due to her age, she had to endure proper training. Since she was the youngest, she would have to go to the academy.
Not that he was willing to inform her of that anytime soon he thought before his attention turned to other matters.
Chapter 22
When he thought his eyes would begin to bleed and he was near the end of his patience with the bureaucrats, Admiral Lewis took the time from his schedule to observe the first real-world exercise, a training flight between three squadrons of fighters from Argus against a ship. Courage had been overhauled several times since she had been launched. Her latest update had included a new point defense system that just begged to be tested.
~~*^*~~
“We're under some big eyes, people. Mind your P's and Q's on the radio net. Big ears are listening. I want this to go by the book,” newly-promoted Lieutenant Hatfield growled as the fighters took to space.
“Red Flight, Flight Com. Be advised, we've got me
dia drones on the outer edge of the exercise zone,” a neutral voice said over the radio network.
“That's all we need,” Adrienne muttered. It was one thing to screw up in front of the brass, quite another to do so in front of the entire star system she knew.
~~*^*~~
Marvel heard the radio report and realized it might be his chance. He resented his status more and more every day. He hated how Adrienne had changed, how she lorded over him and rode him hard to keep him in line. Now he had a chance to test the new fighter, to open her up and see what she could really do.
And the best part was he could do it in front of an audience. It didn't get any better than that.
~~*^*~~
Adrienne glanced out of her cockpit to Marvel. He was quiet, which bothered her a little. Her instincts told her to be wary when he got quiet; she knew the man too well. Man hell, boy, she thought acidly. He still acted like a petulant child that she was his boss and had even gotten a promotion. She wasn't certain he'd ever grow up. He certainly hadn't liked the series of black marks on his record under her eyes. He'd tried to transfer to another squadron, but there weren't any available except for one forming up on the asteroid fortress in Earth's polar orbit. Marvel had wanted a ship posting to be in the thick of it, so he'd canceled the transfer.
“You okay over there, Red Three?” she asked.
“Fine. Let's fly,” Marvel replied tartly.
She shook her shoulders a little and then settled herself. She'd settle up with him later she thought, putting the thought aside. “Okay, people, you've all been briefed, by the numbers. Interceptors will clear a path for the bombers. They'll be going after the target drones. We're flying cover for the bombers. Watch the no-fly zones; those areas are marked on your HUDs for a reason. This is a live fire exercise, people. The bombers will be firing dummy torpedoes, and the ship will be trying to knock them out of the sky once they launch. Before that they'll be firing at their own target drones to simulate strikes against us. So, keep clear of the red zones. Stick to the flight paths you've been given!” she growled.
~~*^*~~
“Yes, mom,” Marvel said over the net with a grin in his voice. He knew that got to Adrienne, got under her skin just a little. Most of the squadron had agreed on the name, and it had stuck over Adrienne's preferred Mad Hatter.
He much preferred his Marvel Martian tag, but he wouldn't have minded Adrienne's Maverick one she'd tried to saddle with him with.
~~*^*~~
The first firing pass went without many problems. The bombers were scattered in their firing of their torpedoes, and the targeting was off. Courage had similar problems with targeting the drones and then the incoming shipping strike. The torpedoes had splashed harmlessly off the ship's shields in luring red paintballs that had eventually vaporized as they dissipated in the vacuum of space. But everyone knew that the ship hadn't fared well in the exchange.
Now they were out for revenge, Marvel thought.
Fortunately, the bombers had one more set of practice torpedoes left, and the wing had enough fuel to make a go of it. The fighters and bombers looped around and then settled into a holding orbit as the ship's gunnery crew worked out whatever kinks were in their software. Marvel chafed under the wait time.
While they waited, the bomber's squadron commander rallied against his squadron and did a hot debrief of the flight. “Just because we won that round doesn't mean we're out of it. I want a clean sweep people, and I want this one to go off without a hitch or there’ll be hell to pay!” Green One snarled over the bomber frequency.
~~*^*~~
“That one went in favor of the bombers and flight wing, sir,” an ensign reported.
“Tell Courage they'd better do better or I'll give them a pair of coke-bottle glasses and a blind man's cane,” Admiral Lewis growled. “And order the drones to change the routine. I don't want them to get cute,” he said.
“Aye aye, sir.”
~~*^*~~
As the bombers came around for the second and final pass, Courage opened up. The guns were perilously close to the outer edge of the no-fly zone and close to the fighters, but Adrienne bit her lip before she called the ship on it. Her people needed to be tested by fire … but she hoped and prayed none would be seared by it.
~~*^*~~
Marvel saw his chance to really test himself and his fighter while looking good for an audience and took it. He edged out away from the bomber he'd been assigned to escort and into the outer edge of the no-fly zone.
“Red Three, what are you doing?” Green Seven demanded.
“Just playing tag,” Marvel said, jinking his ship as some warshot came up on his scope. It was blinding fast. He rolled the ship in a barrel roll to get around a second shot, and then the rounds walked away from him.
“You are crazy, you know that?” Green Seven said over the link.
“Why? Because I can do this and you can't? You realize we're going to do this for real when the shit really does hit the fan, right?” he demanded as the drone behind him looped back and brought the point defense fire back to him.
~~*^*~~
“Sir, we've got one too many targets in the no-fly zone. The computer can't tell them apart,” Courage's Neochimp JTO said.
“Check fire!” the tactical officer ordered. “What the hell is that idiot doing?” he demanded.
“He's hot dogging for the cameras,” the JTO said.
“Well someone better take his balls or I will!” the tactical officer snarled just as the fighter's luck ran out.
~~*^*~~
Adrienne caught on that something was going on behind her, but she was momentarily distracted so she didn't check right away. When she looked back and realized what was going on, she opened her channel to berate Marvel back into position but by then it was too late.
~~*^*~~
Marvel dodged one round, but then ran into a follow-up round of war shot from the ship's point defense as he brought his ship back on course. His fighter shook and was breached like a paper colander in less than a microsecond. Enough rounds hit the fuel tank to set something off in her bowels. Before the addled computer could eject him, the little ship tumbled, overloading the inertial dampener. She came apart and then exploded less than a second later.
~~*^*~~
Adrienne saw the explosion in her rear view and heard the gasp of dismay from some of the bombers and fighters behind her. She bit her lip until she tasted blood.
“Stupid,” she muttered.
Marvel would never learn. Now he'd never have a chance to she thought.
~~*^*~~
Admiral Lewis saw the bright explosion, brighter than one of the target drones going up. He glanced at the plot and noted a fighter's icon blink where it was not supposed to be then fade out.
“We've had an incident. Check fire, blue on blue!” a voice said over the network. “All hands away. We are moving to a SAR situation! SAR feeding you coordinates now.”
The admiral closed his eyes briefly in pain.
~~*^*~~
Unfortunately, it was also the first space accident to mar the navy. The second-generation fighters were immediately called into question. Since they were planned to be on the carriers, it was a thorny problem, Admiral Lewis thought. The older fighters had already been relegated to the training wing and were destined for eventual retirement. That they hadn't crashed in them was surprising to him.
Even with the flight recorders in the fighter destroyed, it didn't take the investigation board long to clear the fighter design and the maintenance personnel. There were sufficient records from other sources to show the crash had been due to pilot error.
Admiral Lewis took the bull by the horns and held a press conference to address the concerns mentioned in the media. He needed to lay the problem to bed as quickly as possible so they could move on.
“First off, I want to point out that the navy is an all-volunteer organization being built from the ground up. Bootstrapping is a common term some of u
s use. It is accurate. There are going to be mistakes. There have been some already, and up until now, none have been fatal. Unfortunately, there always is a first time. Ensign McCoy was that first time.”
He paused for a moment. “I don't think any of us wanted to see this, though I expected it before now. We are doing our best, but sometimes accidents happen.”
“It boils down to the simplest of things. He hotdogged. He pushed the craft and disobeyed orders, and it cost him his life. It sucks; I regret his loss deeply. Our hearts go out to the family,” Admiral Lewis said. “With something like the best we can do is try to learn from the experience in order to prevent a reoccurrence. Thank you,” he said as he cut the press conference short.
He wasn't happy when he found out later that evening that the negative publicity from the accident had momentarily killed a budget increase for the navy.
~~*^*~~
Once the old guard had the two ship classes in production and moving through the various building stages smoothly, they took over other aspects of naval engineering and interfaced with the R&D teams. Within a week, they'd come up with a basic overall, upgrade plan with far more detail than the original outline. There was one little caveat however. Levare found out through contact with Radick Industries design team that they'd helped someone build weapons for a starship less than a year prior. The engineer let slip news about the Iron Vulture.
Levare did a bit of digging about the ship. When he got enough for confirmation of the story, he was troubled. He took the story to Admiral Lewis.
“You're telling me, Radick Industries already built a warship?”
“Not a fully functional one. They hadn't installed the weapons. And yeah, it's a conversion job. No one has seen it since she jumped. We don't even know if she survived. But yes, effectively it is a warship I suppose. At least, once they get the rail guns installed that is.”