"That was a fusion explosion." I think out loud.
"You mean a weapon, sir?" The watch first officer asks.
"No, lieutenant a weapon would not show from here. That was a decent size ship flaring up like a sun going nova. Its fusion reactors went super critical and exploded. Fusion reactors are intrinsically safe unless acted on by an outside force. Someone hit at least once with a remarkably potent weapon. Let's get over there. I want to be there in less than an hour." I order.
"Helm set heading eleven point five port - plus ten degrees Z-axis. Propulsion set acceleration and deceleration ramp to forty minutes - set max-ramp-speed to thirty percent of light speed and execute, immediately." The watch first officer calculated the required velocity curve necessary to meet my orders, in her head. The rise and fall are computed, so the inertia will not kill the crew. Then, she set a timer for one hour.
Usually, we do not exceed point two of light speed because of time dilation. The faster we travel and the longer the distance, the greater the time differential becomes. However, we will exceed that level in an emergency, for short distances. Chronometers always need to be adjusted after a trip at any speed. To put this in perspective, our one-hour trip would be viewed by a standing observer to have actually taken about seventy-one minutes forty-eight seconds. We can set our internal clock to one hour because it experiences this dilation with us. However, when we stop, we will have to advance ship's chronometers by eleven minutes and forty-two seconds.
At our standard cruising speed of point two of C, this difference would only be a little over seven seconds. On a trip from Earth to Rigil, we experience a time differential of slightly over two hours thirteen minutes. "Jump" technology brings this down to a bearable level. By reducing the distance, we have to travel, the time dilation is reduced considerably. However, it would rise as we increase our speed, so point two of superluminal velocity is a happy trade off.
An hour later, we are on site. It still takes short range sensors to home in on the actual event location. There appear to be three large vessels attempting some kind of recovery.
"Communications, engage translator and hail those ships," I order.
"Sir, there is a visual response coming in." The lieutenant responds.
"Put it up on the screen, please," I ask.
"Whoever you are - back off.' The humanoid alien orders. 'This is none of your business. Stay out of our way, or you're next." It threatens.
The face on the screen boasted flyswatter ears and skin that sagged in prominent flaps along the forehead and cheeks. I could hardly tell its eyes were like ours with blue irises. There is a nose, but it's barely visible amongst the pleats.
"This is my business. I am Captain Kurt Brubacher of the ESS Shenzhen. I represent the Orion Empire. You are in our space. My sensors indicate that you are no match for us. We have superior weapons and shielding. If you do not cease what you're doing and send a representative aboard to discuss this, I will be forced to open fire." I order.
There's a long pause. I realize this opponent is testing me. Whoever speaks first loses. What seems like an eternity passes.
"In case you haven't noticed, there's three of us and only one of you." Mr. Wrinkles responds, finally.
"In case you haven't noticed, three of you do not have the firepower to penetrate my shields, and I have weaponry that can destroy each of you with one shot. This is not to mention the fact that, my one ship is five times the size of your three crafts put together. And, you cannot run. There are thirteen hundred vessels in this fleet. Even if I lose you, we will get you in the end. Stand down, and send someone to my Frigate. You have ten minutes.' I motioned for the communications officer to cut off the outgoing signal. 'Are they speaking English or is this coming in, in another language? I don't see a difference in the phasing of the lips and voice." I direct at the communications station.
"They are speaking English, sir. At least, this one is." The response came.
There is a flash as a vibration travels through the entire ship. It takes guile to fire on someone so much more formidable than you are.
"Weapons, set particle cannons to twenty percent. Take out that weapon. Then, disable that ship's engines. Be careful. I don't want them destroyed." I order.
"Aye, sir." Weapons responds simultaneously with the first flash.
The vessel rocks violently on each shot. The damage to each section hit is apparent. The other two Cutters turn, heading off in opposite directions. They jump away once they have achieved the necessary velocity.
"Lieutenant, get the Marine commander up here and put us in a position to board that ship! Weapons, keep a lock on it. If sensors say they are restoring any engine power, hit them again." I order.
Both officers nod their assent as they issue orders enabling my commands.
"Captain Shellots reporting, as ordered, sir." The marine officer stands erect as he reports in, ten minutes later. He has two bars with a number three on his color points.
"Captain, I want you to be ready with your men. We are moving in, to secure that vessel.' I explain as I point to the ship out the window. 'We will need two squads to board it and one or two to investigate the sealed compartment remains of the ship it attacked. Take anyone you find into custody until we sort out who is who. The first officer will advise you when to launch your shuttles." I finish.
"Aye, sir." The Marine says as he turns and exits the bridge.
I could see three shuttles head out into the field, from their bays in the nose of our craft. The two smaller ones went for the ship that fired on us. The larger one advanced on the remains of the other vessel. Both had to navigate a considerable debris field filled with indiscernible materials, jagged pieces of metal and plastics. The mission would put thirty on board the offending craft and twenty on board the other one. They would all be packing heavily. Defensively the assault troops would be wearing full armor made from carbon nanotube fiber and Kevlar KM5. Pockets distributed over vital body areas hold ceramic-metallic reinforcing plates. Helmets and boots are constructed in much the same manner. All members wear full face shields made of transparent aluminum. Offensively, they carry eight-inch razor sharp Raleigh Surveyor 88 combat knives, three flash-bang grenades, two concussion grenades, an M25 combination laser / conventional rifle and a ten-millimeter fifteen-kilowatt peak firing rated hand laser weapon. Some specialists will also bear GN 50 grenade-launching rifles. Every group is equipped with mobile sensor drones they can send into blind areas ahead of any action. Each platoon will be made up of two or three ten person squads, headed by a sergeant. A two squad platoon will be run by a second-grade Lieutenant and the larger one by a full Lieutenant.
Standard Operational Procedure is to achieve a soft-seal over any outer hatch or bay door, then blow the opening, if necessary. Flash/bangs debilitate anyone in the local region, before sending in drones to reconnoiter. Once a determination is made, the smallest number of personnel possible would be sent in first holding the remainder in reserve for a follow-up sweep if resistance is intense.
Ten minutes later, the team that entered the offending ship are on the way back, but the platoon at the damaged vessel is calling for medical help, for injured occupants. I know this means that things must be fairly bad. Each team would have two members well trained as field medics. They can generally stabilize almost any injury, for transport. Another shuttle headed for the craft.
Nearly an hour after the shuttle arrived at the vessel, it departed for the Shenzhen, with the one that carried the Marine platoon. I am now receiving preliminary reports.
The military incursion met some initial stiff resistance. Crew members of the ship that fired on us held up in compartment hatchways along a corridor just inside the opening our team entered. Once the flash/bangs had been expended and the drone had made a quick pass, the Pirates intruded on the entry space with conventional handguns and machetes. A couple of our people had slashing injuries around the neck area - the weakest area of the body armor system. In
response, the team had killed two and severely injured the other three personnel. We would not get much information, for a while. None of the survivors of either craft would be able to withstand questioning for some time.
I looked up to see Shellots standing in my doorway. "Come in, and take a seat."
"Sir, my initial report..." He said as he handed over his data pad.
I looked it over. "Quite a little battle out there, eh?"
"Yes, Captain, and, it looks like it might be piracy. We can't be sure until we can question some survivors." Shellots responded.
"How are your people?" I asked.
"A couple of fairly serious machete hacks. They knew enough to go for the neck. Considering the weaponry available in this day and age, these guys want to instill terror. My people were up to it, though. I left a couple behind in each craft. They have investigative services forensic training. They say the ship that was nearly destroyed was a cargo hauler, but there wasn't much left of it. However, there was still a coupling attached to the remains of the pilot house. From the type, the investigators say it was definitely a multi-section barge being towed by a freighter. The other vessel seems to be full of all kinds of unrelated contraband. There's also a lot of hand weapons aboard." He had summed up the report.
"We won't be able to complete the investigation. We're not equipped for it, and we haven't got the time. I'll report it to Theatre Command. They'll decide how they want to handle it. We'll have about ten days to continue on it until someone else arrives to direct it. You'll have to be able to turn it over to them and walk away. Are you okay with that, Captain Shellots." I asked.
"Mine is not to reason why, sir. But maybe, I'll get lucky, and we’ll finish before they arrive." He said with a smile.
"Anyway, you did a great job, today. This will go into my report. You'll probably be a Major, soon. That means I'd probably lose you to a Carrier Class vessel where you can command a Regiment or assist a Brigade Commander." I tell him as I rise, indicating the end of the meeting.
"Thank you, sir," he says as he stands to attention.
"You're dismissed," I reply as he turns and walks out.
It takes me the next half hour to prepare my report to Admiral Nichols. I include Shellots' report and my recommendation for his promotion. Piracy with the loss of life is one of the very few crimes that warrant the death penalty, in the Empire. That's way above my current pay grade.
It's time to head to my next class. It's overdue, but trying to teach after such a long jump is not a terrific idea. Between myself and the class, at least a few of us are likely to be out of sorts.
…………………………………………………………………………..
"Captain on the deck!" A voice yelps as I enter the room.
"As you were. Rest easy. I'll try to keep the lecture a little shorter today. Most of us are still hung over from the long jump. Are there any questions about last week's session or the handouts?” I ask - hands go up all over the room.
"Yes Ensign, what's your question?" I inquire, though I actually know what they all want to ask.
"Sir, is the Brubacher cadet, you?" She queries - a little hesitantly.
"I could have left that out of the story so you'd think your Captain is perfect. But, I included it for a reason. I wanted you to see that you can make a mistake and recover. We all make mistakes. My group were all given another chance. Many of us used it wisely, but a few didn't. They are gone today. It's not just about using your second chances the right way. It's also about giving them. Admiral Bryant and Lieutenant Ste. Laurent gave us a second chance when they didn't have to. In fact, the entry never appeared in the files of those of us who used the opportunity to our advantage. During your careers, people will disappoint you. You must let them know they did. But, you should be forgiving if the opportunity arises.' I sum up, then move on.
'Anyway, let's continue from where the last handout left off.
............................................................................................
By the end of March 2248, George was satisfied with Boots performance. The time had been spent handling normal patrols while doing regular drills and war games at the squad, Group, and Fleet levels. Bryant had put a lot of strain on the personnel in his command. They had languished between Commanders, so he wanted to be sure they were genuinely razor sharp.
On Thursday, March 30, 2248, the Fleet exited a jump at Xi Bootis. It is a magnificent binary system. Star A is a little smaller and dimmer than Sol with a slightly dimmer orange main sequence dwarf orbiting it. The yellow star has seven planets including a massive one nine times the mass of Jupiter orbiting fourteen AU from its parent. It also sports one at sixty-one million miles that is very earthlike; with a lot of vegetation and animal life; but, no intelligent species inhabit it. It is a warm, but not arid planet. OESA personnel have named it Eden for its paradise-like environment. It is a great place for shore leave. There is camping, mountain climbing, hiking and swimming without any intrusions by strangers. Star B mothers four planets that host primitive life forms.
As he searched the space outside the observation window, Bryant thought back to his arrival to Boots Fleet at Xi Bootis, when the fleet was here earlier.
The arrival day had gone well. The last of the documents required by Bryant from Group Commands arrived in the proper condition by about thirteen hundred thirty that afternoon, allowing George to download all the command codes for user authentication, and complete the promotion warrants by fourteen hundred hours. Fleets are essentially down after a new commander assumes the reigns until the new leader has the information required to issue subordinates their new security authorizations. They, in turn, will have to re-issue to their people, after activating these security sequences. The entire Fleet was back online by fourteen-thirty, that afternoon which gave everyone time to get into dress uniforms for the ceremony an hour and a half later.
Aboard the Columbia, the dividing wall between the two hangars had been retracted allowing nearly five thousand to attend the ceremony. With a new Rear Admiral, a new Commodore and two new Captains, it took almost two hours to do all the promotions and assignments. The announcement of the changes took another half hour, and George spent ten minutes attempting to engage the entire Fleet. Unscheduled, but not unplanned by his subordinates, Stevens spent ten minutes welcoming Bryant and recounting some of his history to the assemblage of personnel. Then, came the announcement of the dinner party which would start at nineteen hundred hours.
Stewards and service crew began populating the expansive room with tables and chairs even before all the attendees had exited the space. Anyone standing by would have noticed the space taking shape around a raised head table and dais. Tables radiated toward the back of the hall in enormous semi-circles. Between the head table and the first row, a temporary surface was laid to create a dance floor, and to the left of those, a musical boutique with amplifier, drums, and well-placed microphones took shape.
Those who began to file into the hangar just before nineteen hundred noted the band already playing soft melodies, the decorations hanging from the ceiling and on the walls, and the fine linens and tableware that graced every place setting on the tables. It was hard not to notice the long hot and cold water serving counters that would hold the entire menu were in their preliminary temperature cycles so they'd be ready to display the many appetizers, soups, salads, entrees, and desserts that would be served that evening. To top it all off, was the longest wet-bar most people would ever see - fully stocked with hard liquors, liqueurs, wines, beers, soft drinks from worlds all over the Empire, and, ice, stir sticks, glasses, cups, coffee, tea and even water. Someone had pulled out all the stops.
Earlier, when Bryant had gone to check on preparations, he'd been astounded and pleased to find things taking the current course. It is what he had envisioned; but, had not quite articulated to those he gave the orders to. A few inquiries made it apparent that his new Chief of Staff had tak
en the bull by the horns, demanding everything from both Groups that would pull the event together into a gala second to none. He used the power of George's office and position to imprint himself on the situation, explaining he'd been enlisted for the task by the Admiral. And, he did it all within his first few hours on the job. There would be a party, for all to attend, on both ships.
When the evening got underway, Bryant inaugurated all to the festivities on the Columbia, inviting everyone to enjoy themselves as Tom Stevens expressed the same sentiments aboard the Grenada. As George spoke, the serving crew were quietly wheeling large roast turkeys, prime ribs, rack of lamb, fish dishes, and carts of assorted rice dishes, pasta entrees, vegetables, salads, soups, finger foods, and desserts into the room and preparing them to be served. In addition, a chilled pile of small beef tenderloin medallions and plump chicken breasts were set up on the chef's side of a gas char-broiler that was positioned under one of the hangar's many exhaust vents. And, as all this transpired, silent stewards strategically placed bottled white and red wines along the tables. One crew of servers, chefs, stewards, and the service team would be replaced by another at midnight, allowing the first crew to enjoy the party, after their shift.
Once the welcomes were complete, Bryant asked all to join in a series of toasts. He individually saluted each, and every officer promoted and reassigned in the earlier ceremony. Which led to his final tribute. "Ladies and gentlemen, officers, NCOs and enlisted, I would like you all to join me in honoring the finest group of people to grace our galaxy. It is a group of the bravest and most generous people alive - each and every one of whom is incredibly skilled. I would like you to raise a glass with me and acclaim...you - the people of Boots. For, it is you who get the jobs done. It is you who make the engines run, allow us to see the many complexities of space, make it possible to live in space, and, keep us safe from its many hazards. It is you who risk your lives each and every day to make life for the people of the Empire safe. It is not its Commander that makes Boots great. It is you. Please turn and toast the person on your right, then on your left, then, ahead of you; and finally, the one behind you. Each member of the crew is your hero, and you are theirs. But most of all, you are all my heroes. To Boots!!!!" George finished as he raised his glass, then took a long slow drink from it.
Righteous Reign The Series: E-version Boxed Set Edition Page 15