Valor At Vauzlee

by DePrima, Thomas

  "The autopsy will give us a more precise time, but current body temperature suggests that he died no more than nine hours ago, and probably closer to eight."

  Jenetta nodded and looked at the Marine officer. "Major Galont?" Aboard ship, only Space Command officers holding that official rank, or the commanding officer of the ship, can be acknowledged as ‘captain.' Marine officers with the rank of Captain, are referred to as Major as a matter of etiquette to avoid confusion.

  All GSC warships carry Space Marine forces as part of their normal ship's company. In addition to their primary function of providing an armed landing force that's prepared to handle whatever hostile situation they're sent into, they handle security aboard ship. They post sentries at all points of ingress and egress whenever the ship is docked at stations or with other ships, and maintain roving patrols on a 24/7 basis. They run the security office and respond to reports of fights, theft, and anything criminal that occurs aboard ship. Marine Captain Galont had majored in criminology at the Academy. The tall, good looking officer felt confident of his ability to handle this case.

  "Yes, Captain?" Galont responded.

  "As Chief of Security, you have primary responsibility for finding Petty Officer Nichols' killer."

  "Yes, Captain. I'll find whoever did this."

  "Very good. I want you to keep me informed of any developments, through Lieutenant Ashraf."

  "Aye, Captain."

  Jenetta nodded, turned, and began the passage back to her briefing room on the bridge, but she couldn't get the image of Petty Officer's Nichols' broken body out of her mind. Killing during time of war, or to protect your own life, she could understand, but to take another life because of a game was— irrational.

  * * *

  It was just after noon, Galactic System Time, at Higgins Space Command Base, when Admiral Brian Devon Holt's senior aide interrupted the two-star admiral's lunch to notify him of a Priority-One message from Captain Gavin. The seventy-one-year-old officer dropped the salad fork he was using and gulped down the antipasto already in his mouth. Jumping up from the table in his private dining room like an officer half his age, he rushed back to his office and selected the communication from among the prioritized list of messages that scrolled up on his desktop com unit. He watched intently as the image of the most respected captain in his command filled the viewscreen.

  By the time the message had finished, Holt's color had paled appreciably. He immediately summoned his senior aide.

  "Willem, activate the Combat Information Center. I'm raising the Station Defense status to War Active. Notify the captains of all GSC warships in port that there will be a CIC vidConference in thirty minutes. Prepare a message to all private and commercial traffic in the port that an attack from Raiders is imminent. We strongly recommend that all civilian ships depart as soon as possible and not return until the outcome is known. Prepare another to notify all inbound traffic that Higgins is presently closed and that they should not approach closer than ten days travel time until we meet this threat. But don't send either until I've approved them. I'll be in the CIC."

  "Aye, Admiral," his aide said, as he began keying in commands on his com unit. In seconds, crewmen around the station were racing towards the CIC, while others were notifying their captains of the station's upgraded defense status and the vidConference timetable. All off-duty personnel were immediately summoned to their duty posts aboard ship or on the station via emergency recall messages delivered through their CT or ID. Base personnel had never been summoned in such a manner and none wasted time trying to confirm the orders or with explanations for their behavior. Unenlightened merchants on the concourse were left staring open-mouthed at empty chairs in restaurants and empty aisles in retail stores as shopping areas evacuated in mere seconds.

  The CIC was illuminated and gearing up quickly when Admiral Holt arrived. Noncoms and ratings were busy removing protective covers from seldom used equipment, flipping power switches, and performing perfunctory tests. The room had never been used for a real crisis during Admiral Holt's tour of duty, but every piece of equipment was tested and certified by engineering techs each month.

  The base commander's station was among the first activated and Admiral Holt climbed into the comfortable chair and settled his six-foot two-inch frame to organize his thoughts and wait for the vidConference time. He knew that Gavin would never have sent that Priority-One message unless he was damned sure of his facts, and he was painfully aware that the station's protection was at minimal strength right now. The final decision, to pull eight ships from their normal patrol duties and send them off for participation in the attack on the Raiders attempting to hijack the relics from Mawcett, had been his alone.

  As the vidConference time neared, the captains of the five warships currently serving as protection for Higgins Space Command Base, logged in. A head and shoulders image of each commanding officer, sitting in his or her briefing room aboard their ship, joined the others on the huge monitor at the front of the CIC's main room until all ships were represented. Each ship would be receiving a similar display, which showed all other commanding officers participating in the vid discussion. Text beneath each image identified other, unseen, senior officers presently in the captain's briefing room to receive the news. At the very least, each ship's XO was present to learn the situation. The CIC was fully populated by the officers and specialists assigned to staff the center during a crises, when Admiral Holt began to speak.

  "Welcome, captains," the admiral said as the last to log in joined the vidConference. "I've received the gravest of news today. You've all been briefed with details of the recent battle that took place between our forces and the Raiders near the planet Vauzlee. While examining encrypted documents found on the body of a dead Raider officer, our people have uncovered plans outlining an imminent, massive attack on Higgins."

  Captain William E. Payton of the battleship Thor was the first to speak. The fifty-nine-year-old senior officer appeared deceptively calm as he gazed through limpid blue eyes and asked, "How massive, Admiral?" he asked.

  "Most of the Raider ships participating in that attack on the convey of relics had orders to depart as soon as the shipment was secured. They were to travel to an undisclosed rendezvous location where they would join another force assembling for the assault on this station. We know that forty-one ships attacked the freighter and convoy protection ships, but we have no idea how many other Raider ships have been assigned to this planned attack. I doubt that the Raiders would underestimate our resolve to defend this base. I wish I could give you a number, but without additional intel, it would just be the wildest of guesses."

  "Admiral," Captain Payton said, "Considering their monumental losses at that recent battle, are we sure there's even going to be an attack?"

  "An excellent question. We're sure of nothing right now, Bill, except that the Raiders apparently were planning to attack us. To what degree their plans will be affected by the near total destruction of their convoy attack force, I can't say. Only seven ships of the forty-one involved in that conflict managed to escape from the battle zone, but we must assume they rendezvoused with whatever force was tasked to attack us, and are now on their way here."

  "What preparations are being made to protect the civilians in and around the station, Admiral?" Captain Simon H. Pope of the destroyer Geneva asked.

  "Within the hour, all commercial traffic that has identified Higgins as a stop or final destination on their flight plans will be advised to find a place along their course where they can halt their vessel and await the outcome of the attack. All freighters and passenger liners in orbit around the base will be advised to depart as soon as possible and seek a place of relative safety. All cargo farms will be transported to a more distant location so the area around the station is clear for battle. Civilians currently housed in the station will be offered transportation down to the planet, as will non-essential military personnel. I haven't yet spoken to the officials on Vinnia but I'm sur
e they'll help as much as possible in finding temporary living quarters for the displaced."

  "How many other ships can we depend upon to bolster our forces here?" Captain Beverly P. Wong of the Buenos Aires asked.

  "Captain Gavin learned of the intended attack around 0300 this morning. He immediately had Captain Powers awakened. Following a brief vidConference, both Prometheus and Chiron departed for Higgins. Just before they left the site of the battle, Captain Gavin sent Priority-One messages to the other ship captains. Those messages instructed the captains of five ships to get underway for Higgins just as quickly as they could secure for travel. Two ships, which had not yet fully tested their repaired systems, were left to secure the battle zone until the reclamation ships arrived. The ships coming to assist us are the heavy cruiser Song, and destroyers Lima, Vancouver, Dublin, and Calcutta. All ships on patrol in this deca-sector will also drop everything and return to the base, but none may be close enough to join us before the Raiders strike."

  "Excuse me, sir," Captain Wong said, "but wasn't it stated in the battle briefing that the Song suffered severe structural damage and had lost her entire senior staff?"

  "Yes, that's correct, Bev."

  "Then what kind of shape is she in, and perhaps even more importantly, who's in command of the ship now, sir?"

  "Captain Gavin, in his capacity as senior officer at the conflict, appointed Lt. Commander Carver to serve as captain of the Song on a pro tempore basis."

  "Lt. Commander Carver?! Jenetta Carver?"

  "Yes."

  "She's been appointed captain of the Song? But she was just an ensign until two months ago?"

  "Following her promotion to Lt. Commander, she was posted as second officer aboard the Prometheus. Since the battleship was without a first officer until Commander Genevieve LaSalle reports aboard when it reaches Earth, she was serving as acting XO. With the deaths of the Song's entire senior staff, Captain Gavin needed someone to immediately take command of the cruiser, determine the condition of the ship, restore a proper command structure, and commence repairs. Commander Carver was the only available officer with warship command experience."

  "Command experience, sir? Surely her being named as the first commanding officer of the Prometheus was merely an honorific for having recovered the ship."

  "True," Admiral Holt said, nodding. "But the fact remains that she did captain the ship for almost five months. During that time she also functioned as the convoy leader for the Terran and Nordakian freighters, and the other battleship. I realize that her crew size was extremely limited on that voyage, but she's done a wonderful job as acting XO aboard the Prometheus since reporting aboard. And within twelve hours of taking command of the severely damaged Song, she had restored order, assembled a complete bridge staff, and begun the systematic repair of the damage. Because she did so well, Captain Gavin made the decision to have her remain in command of the Song until it reached Earth. When information regarding the planned attack on this base came to his attention, there wasn't time to make other arrangements."

  "But she's just a Lt. Commander, sir; and a recently appointed one at that. She's not experienced enough to command a heavy cruiser in a battle such as the one we might now be facing."

  Admiral Holt's once jet-black hair may have turned prematurely grey, but he was physically fit, and still as sharp as they come. Holt felt he knew the real reason for Captain Wong's concern. Newly promoted line officer captains in Space Command normally receive a destroyer for their first command. Based on their evaluated performance in that capacity, they might then be advanced to successively more responsible commands as ships became available. The normal advancement was to frigate, then cruiser, then battleship if such commands opened up before the officer reached mandatory space retirement age or retired from the service, but once they had received their first command, they could possibly skip command levels. Beverly Wong was currently the most senior destroyer captain in Space Command, and had been named by COAC to move up to a more responsible command when a ship became available. But the overwhelming percentage of warships in the Space Command fleet are destroyers, making such advancement agonizingly slow for ambitious officers. While Lt. Commander Carver was captaining a cruiser, Captain Wong was prevented from advancing, even if her advancement was only to a frigate after the frigate captain at the top of the COAC list for upgrade moved up to the Song.

  "Beverly, Commander Carver was the only line officer with command experience available at the engagement who didn't presently have a command, so she was the logical choice for appointment to captain the Song. She's now fought in four engagements with the Raiders, not counting her escape from, and destruction of, a Raider base. I'm sure I don't have to remind you that her combat record includes more engagements with enemy vessels while functioning as the ship's commanding officer than any of the distinguished captains present. The crew of the Vordoth nicknamed her the ‘Ice Queen' for her supreme coolness under fire. Don't underestimate her ability and capacity for command just because she doesn't yet have four gold bars on each shoulder. But— for your information, Captain Gavin has already informed Commander Carver that an experienced senior staff will be waiting to take command of the ship as soon as the Song arrives here, and that she'll transfer back to the Prometheus at that time. Does that ease your mind?"

  Admiral Holt knew that it wouldn't; not really. Whether the temporary commanding officer of the Song was a commander or a lieutenant commander made no difference in the ultimate ship assignment rotation. Given the imminency of the expected attack, a change in the command structure that could adversely affect the performance of two crews during a critical time would not even be contemplated, so Beverly Wong would not be given command of the Song when it arrived, temporary appointment or not. Until Supreme HQ confirmed a permanent appointment recommendation by COAC, Beverly wouldn't move up.

  "Uh, yes sir." Senior officers don't reach senior rank by being insensitive to the tone in responses from commanding officers. Captain Wong suspected that the Admiral might be feeling some slight irritation over what could be perceived as personal interests in her question, although she firmly believed that her main concern was the competency of fellow officers during a critical time. She decided that an apology of sorts was in order "I didn't mean to question your judgment regarding temporary field appointments, sir."

  "I understand and appreciate your concerns, Beverly. Although I agree with Captain Gavin's recommendation that a new senior staff assume command as soon as the ship arrives, I personally have full confidence in Commander Carver's ability to command a ship in battle. If she had an experienced senior staff aboard, I might even be tempted to let her remain in command until the Commanding Officer Appointment Committee names the Song's new captain. I tend to prefer a known quantity over an unknown under circumstances as grave as we now face."

  "How soon do you expect to have your defense plans ready, sir?" Captain Hoyt asked.

  "The facts, as we know them, dictate that we use Station Defense Plan Echo-Three as our opening stratagem. All ships will align in an arc formation between the station and the attackers, fifty-thousand kilometers out, once we pick up their movements on our long range sensor net. We'll hold position until the Raiders advance, and then engage them as soon as they're in range. As the Raiders press their attack, our ships will fall back and protect that segment of the station assigned to them, to the best of their ability. We're far from helpless here, but the designers of this station didn't make provisions for our defending it against a full battle armada. With our great size, and having no mobility to speak of, we'll be relying on you to help knock down torpedoes directed at us. The docking ring will naturally be evacuated as soon as the Raiders are spotted, and all airtight doors in the station will be closed. Since the CIC is located in the heart of the station, and we're surrounded by several bulkheads of reinforced tritanium, we should be able to remain in communication to the end."

  "Whose end?" Captain Payton asked rhetorically.
>
  "That's the question that's going to keep a lot of us awake tonight, Bill," Admiral Holt responded.

  * * *

  Marine Captain Galont sat in the small conference room that adjoined his office in the Song's security center, listening to the reports from his officers. To this point, his people had mainly been concentrating on finding the murder weapon used to kill Petty Officer Nichols. They hadn't had any luck in that endeavor. Galont was taking the failure personally. He had told the Captain that he would find the killer, and he felt like he was letting her down.

  Galont was a Marine's Marine, gung ho from the soles of his titanium-toed boots to his closely cropped light-brown hair. Plenty of time spent in the ship's gym and weight room gave his six-foot one-inch body the muscular look of a professional body-builder. His rugged good looks had always made him popular with the ladies, and at thirty-eight years of age, he was still in top form. One intense look from his jade-green eyes had always been all it took to stir interest in many a potential sexual partner.

  Like virtually everyone else on board, Galont had watched the court-martial of Lt. Commander, then Ensign, Jenetta Carver from beginning to end. He hadn't believed for a second that such a tiny officer, and a female at that, could have done even half the incredible things being credited to her by the newsies prior to the trial. He'd decided early on that it was all hype, designed to sell more newspapers or magazines, thus increasing their market share and bringing in more advertising revenue. But his mind was slowly changed as he watched the prosecution's poor attempts to tear down Ensign Carver's story. His enlightenment hadn't occurred merely because the prosecutor seemed to be badgering a beautiful and seemingly helpless young woman forced to sit in prisoner transport chains during the early hours of the trial. His mindset had changed as he listened closely to the testimony; testimony repeated endlessly, owing to almost constant objections by the prosecution. When Ensign Carver was finally allowed to step down from the witness stand, after twenty-two grueling days of testimony and cross-examination, Marine Captain Galont was firmly convinced that the charges against her were absurd. She should never, ever, have been formally charged. And before any of the other witnesses had even been called, he was absolutely certain that she had done every one of the incredible things with which she was being credited. The image logs from the Vordoth, while showing her expert leadership during battle with the two Raider ships, highlighted her coolness under fire. The image logs from the Prometheus that showed the explosion of the Raider base had even the most intransigent critics cheering like madmen for the young ensign.