Passing through the threshold he took in the sights of the clean flight deck. It was a sight he hadn't seen in the entirety of his career with fleet. Most flight decks were littered with the debris of the fighters as the repair crews work feverishly to keep each one of the little birds space worthy. Every step on the flight deck grew more perilous as time went on as grease and puddles of hydraulic fluid seep into the metal floors.
Also absent were the pilots pestering the repair crews about their fighters. Wellard suspected it had to do with many of the birds being in peak condition though that would change once they got them out into space.
Commander Valarie Thompson gave him a wry grin as he made his way across the deck. As another member of the senior staff, she was also destined to move to another ship in two years. She had been a CAG in one capacity or another nearly as long as Wellard had been captain.
"Captain Wellard, what brings you to my den?"
"Just making the rounds, Val. I trust everything is going smooth?"
"About as smooth as they get," she said. "We have more pristine fighters in one place than I've seen over the last twenty years."
"Be a shame to tear them up," Wellard added.
"Be a shame not to." Thompson folded her arms behind her back and walked between two rows of fighters, each lined up towards the dock door, ready to fly out on command. "I'm actually glad you came down here, there's something we need to discuss."
"Figured as much. It's not like you to stay quiet this long."
Thompson grinned. "I have one hundred and twenty pilots for these birds, each itching to take them out on a Sunday stroll. I know we couldn't get them out at New Earth Station, but I think it would be in our best interests to get them out as soon as possible. Like to get the kinks out before the Russians pay us another visit."
"As would I," Wellard agreed. "Tell you what. I'll hail the other ships, see if we can put together some live flight exercises between the ships once we arrive in Atroxxin."
"That would help," she said.
"Talking about your pilots, how is this batch?" He'd spent most of his time with the command crew since coming over and precious little with anyone that wasn't, not that he'd typically mingle with the fighter jocks in most situations. They were generally cut from different cloth than the rest of the crew, and he tended to treat them that way.
In truth, he felt more at home with the jocks than he cared to admit. If things hadn't turned out the way they did, he could've easily found himself in the cockpit of one of these birds. As it was, it had taken a Herculean effort to keep him out of one of them during his time in fleet. It was only when they gave him command of a ship that he'd given up the notion of flying one of the small ships. Even still, being so close to one of them was tempting beyond belief.
"You know, your typical batch of high-testosterone adrenaline junkies. Hard to tell until we get them out of the bay."
"Understood. Get your people ready. Given our current speed, I'd put us in Atroxxin by the end of the day. Perhaps we can get something set up around second shift, or first thing tomorrow."
"Sounds good, Vince."
Captain Wellard broke away from Thompson and made his way to the door. He had a half-dozen other stops to make before the end of his shift, and he intended to get them done with time to spare. He exited the fighter bay and made his way down the long narrow hallway to the stairwell on his way to his next appointment.
Chapter Nineteen
Palades Sector
Bridge, NECS Iowa
"Approaching the Atroxxin gate. At our current rate of speed, we will arrive in seven minutes," said Ensign Gibbs.
"Well done, Gibbs. Slow our pace to one-third thrust. Don't want to go losing the greenhorns in the back of the convoy." Captain Stewart had to clench his teeth to keep from laughing at his own joke. Unsurprisingly, the rest of the crew didn't find his jab humorous in the slightest. Out of all the ships to command, he ended up on the one where everyone was pure business. But instead of bickering about it for the third time this week, he sat back in his chair and resumed watching the screen.
"Sir, we received a message from the Endeavor. They are requesting permission to perform flight exercises with our fighter pilots once we reach our destination," said Commander Davies, breaking his silence.
Stewart laughed. "Those kids just got out of the academy. What chance do they have against our squadrons?" He waved his hand dismissively. "Tell them to hail the Concord. They'll still kick their asses, but at least they'll disable a few before they lose."
Davies cleared her throat.
"Have something you wish to say, Commander?" said Stewart, sounding as irritated as ever. All he wanted was silence before reaching their destination. They had been waiting near the Palades gate for days waiting for the Endeavor to finally join them on what should prove to be a rather quiet mission. The Atroxxin sector was positioned well away from any known enemy regions, making it one of the safest sectors in charted space. That is, if you discount the increased pirate activity when fleet activity in the sector was down.
"Yes, Captain. Perhaps it would be a good idea for our fighters to train with those from the Endeavor. While our pilots are more skilled than theirs, they might pick up some advanced maneuvers not taught in the academy."
"All that would do is waste time and resources better spent on other things, like getting the temperature regulators functioning properly."
"If I may, sir, as long as there no major issues during the operations, energy use will be a minimum."
"Bah," Stewart spat. "Tell the Endeavor to find a Russian frigate if they want some practice." He glared at his XO, staring deep into her emerald eyes. "This is the last I want to hear of it."
"Understood, Captain." Davies shoulders slumped as she sat in her chair.
Stewart believed in her ability to lead the ship, but the woman would have to learn to take orders without question if she ever wished to command a ship of her own. The damned woman had a penchant for questioning everything. From the color of the system's star, to why some planets are habitable while other similar planets were left alone. It may have done her well growing up, but now it was nothing more than an annoyance.
"Atroxxin gate in range," Gibbs mentioned. "Slowing approach vector for entry."
"Good work, Ensign. Commander Davies, not that I expect trouble on the other side, be ready with our shields to be safe."
"Understood, Captain. Shields at the ready."
"Ensign, punch in our jump codes. Let's get this ride over with."
Ensign Gibbs punched the jump codes on his screen. "Codes accepted, Captain. Warp gate opening in three. Two. One."
The gate contained wormhole sprung to life, swallowing the ship like any normal person would ingest a pill. Colors swirled on the view screen like dust in a vortex, threatening to make the entire bridge crew keel over. Even though the screens gave them a tactical advantage once they reached the other side, Stewart couldn't help wondering if they were doing more harm than good. As it was, jump sickness was near catastrophic at times without the help of the screens.
In the matter of moments, reality shifted back into focus. It took the view screen a few more moments to process the information before relaying a perfect view of the Atroxxin sector on the screen.
Stewart clenched the armrest, trying his damnedest not to lose what little lunch he'd been brave enough to eat. Through most of the bridge, the rest of the crew struggled to do the same. Stewart closed his eyes, allowing his mind to come to grips with his new reality.
His eyes jolted open as his body registered a vibration under his feet. The feeling escalated until everything not bolted down crashed to the floor.
"What the hell is that?" Stewart demanded. The rumbling intensified, causing the bridge crew to spring into action, though half of them still struggled with movement from the effects of jump sickness.
"We're under attack, Captain," Ensign Gibbs noted.
"Then why aren't our armor
modulators and shields not working?" His head turned to his young commander who was doubled over a waste bin, relieving her stomach of the contents of her lunch.
"I'm sorry, Captain. I..."
"We don't have time for excuses, Commander. Get off your ass and reengage the shields before we're a floating pile of scrap."
"Yes, sir." Davies pulled herself to her feet using the command console to help her. Once upright, she punched in command codes on her screen. Seconds later the shimmering field of the shield blinked into existence on the view screen. Immediately the vibrations ceased, allowing the remaining bridge crew to recover from the jump.
"What the hell is hitting us?" Stewart asked as the vibrations came to an end.
"Two EU ships, the York and Dachshund."
"Why, in God's name, are two allied ships firing on us in friendly space?" It was a rhetorical question he didn't expect to be answered, yet half the crew looked as if they were going to attempt an answer. Before any of them could he said, "hail the York. See if those traitorous bastards want to talk."
"Transmissions are being blocked."
"Then try the alternate signal."
"Already have, Captain. It's blocked as well."
"Fine, if these bastards want to play it the hard way, I'm game. Commander, have all crews warm up laser batteries and in the meantime pound the enemy ship with our cannons."
Davies shot him a skeptical look as if it was also bad form to fire on the NEC's allies.
"Damnit, Commander. Give the order."
Another large blast rocked the vessel, sending half the bridge crew to the floor. Plasteel fragments rained on the crew from above where a large fissure had formed. Stewart looked up in time to notice the section of roof cave in, filling the room with dust. A large steel girder broke off from the support structure and fell into the room. An intense hot pain shot through Stewart's shoulder where the beam struck, separating his arm from his body. Blood spurted across the room with the rhythm of his heart, covering the once pristine floors with a layer of crimson.
He reached to his missing arm with his good hand, only to come back with a hand covered in gore. Davies was there by his side, helping him back to his seat.
"Davis to sick bay, send Doctor Onawski to the bridge immediately. The captain is hurt."
Stewart opened his mouth to protest, but his words failed him. Chills poured over him and his vision blurred, which helped make the room spin around him. He watched as the rest of the crew worked furiously to get things back into order.
Piles of debris fell through the large fissure in the ceiling as the edges of his vision faded. He wondered if the was it. If this was the last time his beloved Iowa would fly. The conversation going on around the bridge confirmed his suspicions.
"Starboard armor failing, rerouting power from the port."
"Negative. We can't leave our side exposed to the York."
"Lasers have penetrated the armor."
"Prepare damage control teams for torpedo damage."
Another large blast rocked the ship, toppling Stewart over in his chair. As he lay on the ground, nearing unconsciousness, he wondered if the doctor would make it. But he supposed it didn't matter as long as they could keep the ship together for the rest of the fleet to make it through.
Chapter Twenty
Atroxxin Sector
Bridge, NECS Endeavor
"Status report," Wellard demanded as he stepped into the bridge.
"The Iowa is down. The Madrid and Achilles have taken heavy damage. I've currently got the ship in position to shield the Providence."
"Very good, Commander. Reroute shield power to port. I don't want a single beam of light to penetrate the damn thing, am I clear?"
"Yes, Captain."
The scene playing out on the view screen was madness. Debris from the wreckage pinged off the Endeavor as she pushed her way through the debris field of the Iowa.
"Bring the ship into position to hit the York. Aim for their weapons systems and thrusters in that order. We need to bring them in alive to find out what the hell they were up to."
"Aye, Captain. Moving the ship into position now."
"Good. Commander, ready port laser batteries."
The view on his screen contorted as the first lasers hit the Endeavor's hull. Concentrated blasts from the York and Dachshund ripped into the field, turning it red with an amazing efficiency. Wellard knew, at this rate it was only a matter of time until they penetrated their shields instead.
"Fire all available weaponry at the York. Focus fire near the laser beams. Make this fight a little easier in the process." Wellard pressed a button on his command console, opening a channel to Commander Thompson. "Commander, I want the birds out in the thick of things in five minutes. Have them create a diversion so the Madrid and Achilles have time to recover."
"Aye, Captain," Thompson replied.
"And Valarie," Wellard added. "Keep a few fighters close to the Providence in case they deploy their fighters. Wellard, out."
Bremerton glanced back at Wellard. He looked confused. As if all the simulations he aced back in fleet academy hadn't prepared him for actual battle. From everything Wellard had seen so far, the kid was brilliant. Everything that Admiral Quentis had promised. But he clearly wasn't ready for the scene that was playing out in front of them. Hell, he was sure half the crew was shitting themselves as the battle raged in front of them.
He didn't blame them. Simulations could train you in how to handle situations properly, but they couldn't prepare you for actual combat. Seeing death happen in front of your eyes had a way of shaking even the most stalwart crews.
"Ensign Price. Move us closer to the York. I want to give our weapons crews a larger target to hit."
"But sir, that will make us easy to hit as well."
"Very astute, Ensign," Wellard remarked. "It also forces the Dachshund to move into range of the Providence's weaponry to get a better shot at us."
"It also leaves the Providence open to attack," Bremerton countered. "Are we not trying to keep our VIP in one piece?"
"We are, Commander. I assure you," Wellard said. "I also assure you that the Providence is capable of handling the Dachshund on her own, allowing us to focus our efforts on the York."
Wellard glanced over at his CO, who was shifting in his chair. He admired the man's willingness to speak up, but wished he was just as willing to sit back and learn.
"Let me give you a lesson about war, Commander."
"Sir?"
"If you're going to be the CO of this ship one day, you are going to have to learn to trust other people."
"I trust the crew with my life, Captain. Are you suggesting otherwise?"
"No, son. Not at all. I'm suggesting that it isn't just your crew you have to trust. You also have to trust the crews of the ships you are fighting with to do their jobs. Trust they'll be able to handle their end of the battle so you and your crew can attend to yours." Sensing his speech wasn't doing much to curb his apprehension, he continued. "I understand why the academy fast tracked you for command. You have an overwhelming sense of purpose. A willingness to put yourself in harm's way to protect those who need protecting. I'll be the first to say the universe could use a few dozen heroes just like you."
"Thank you, sir."
"Don't thank me yet. I'm not done."
Bremerton, now confused over the direction of the conversation, glanced over at Wellard and urged him to continue. As the captain spoke, the ship rocked violently, sending the bridge crew not seated sprawling to the floor.
"We'll have to continue this conversation later," Wellard said before turning his attention to Midshipman Rayne. "Damage report."
Holding his datapad in front of him, Rayne turned to face Wellard. The kid was young, possibly one of the youngest people he'd ever seen on the command deck. For a moment he wondered if the kid had also been fast tracked for command like his young XO, but filed that as a question for another time.
"Minor hull
damage on the stern, Captain."
"That hit didn't feel minor."
Rayne nodded. "They are focusing their weaponry at a singular point in our shields trying to overload it. I've shifted most our remaining defenses at that point to keep it from happening again."
"Very good, Midshipman. Just keep an eye on the Dachshund. If it moves around the York, be ready to shift power back to cover their attack."
"Understood, Captain."
Wellard glanced at the battle playing out on the viewscreen. The first wave of the fighters were closing in on the York, hammering the ship with all the weaponry they could muster. Alone, an individual fighter was no match for even the most lightly armored frigate, but as a group they could overwhelm any defensive systems brought to bear. Combined with the backing of a capital ship, they could chew through lesser targets with ease.
But the York and Dachshund were not lesser targets. By all accounts the vessels were the EU equivalent of the Endeavor, designed to be flagships of an advanced battlefront. Even still, the two ships had done the massive damage to the convoy on the back of taking advantage of jump lag, the momentary delay of the shipboard systems and of the crew after taking any jump. The tactic had been long since banned to the allied governments, but that hadn't stopped pirate vessels or even the corporations from taking it up during their skirmishes.
"Captain, incoming transmission from the Providence," Midshipman Ritter said. "It's Captain Mills, and he isn't happy."
Chapter Twenty-One
Atroxxin Sector
Bridge, NECS Endeavor
"Patch it through," Captain Wellard said as he stood to address the other captain. The image of Mills appeared in the center of the screen. Gray hairs had taken over most of what was left on top of his head, making him look much older than Wellard remembered.
"Captain Wellard, what the hell are you doing blocking my ship's line of fire?" The words came out harsh. Scolding. Wellard heard Mills had an angry streak, but never expected to find out for himself.
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