Destroyer (Expansion Wars Trilogy, Book 3)

by Joshua Dalzelle

  "XO, let's see about getting Lieutenant Commander Hawkins spun up as a bridge watch alternate," Jackson said after a moment. "I think he's earned a shot at it."

  "I'll make a note of it, sir."

  "OPS, how long until we're within visual range of the wreckage?" Jackson asked.

  "Ten hours at current acceleration, sir," Hori said.

  He resisted the urge to have CIC try and pick out the transponder signal of the ship Jillian had been on. They were working through the mess as fast as they could and all he would do with his request was hamper their efficiency. The best he could do was try and remain calm and wait until they were within range to begin a thorough search of the planet's surface.

  "Captain, we've just received a new transponder signal … it's a Fleet ident beacon."

  "Who is it?" Captain Eckler asked, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. He'd been on watch for thirty-one hours straight while Jillian Wolfe had gone below deck to help with the repairs on their primary environmental systems.

  "Resolving now, sir," the sensor operator said. She was the only other person on the cramped bridge with Eckler.

  "It's a Valkyrie-class destroyer, Black Fleet, registry DS-1102A. I've never heard of that class of ship, sir."

  "What's the name of the ship? You'll have to cross-check with our internal database; ident beacons only broadcast the registry," Eckler said with a sigh. He bit off his admonishment at such a basic mistake. The yacht's crew had been running around in remote systems for over a year and any training deficiencies were a reflection of his own failures, not theirs.

  "It's the Nemesis, sir," she said. "I'm still not sure that—"

  "Please have Commander Wolfe come to the bridge immediately," Eckler said. His crew might be ignorant of the Fleet's newest class of destroyer, but he was very familiar with the ship's name, her mission, and who commanded her.

  "You asked to see me, Captain?" Jillian asked as she came up on the bridge. She was wearing utility coveralls and was covered in sweat and grime.

  "Nemesis has just arrived in-system and is broadcasting a clear ident signal with no warnings," Eckler said. "I'm about to order our own transponder active. Is there anything specific you'd like me to send to your husband's ship?"

  "Send a Link channel request so that we can use the Nemesis's sensors to see outside of all the dust," Jillian said after a moment of thought. "I would also send a message giving our status … Jackson can infer from there that I'm alive and well. We don't know for certain that the Specter is gone or if they've cracked our standard encryption. It might not be wise to let them know there's someone on this ship that's connected in any way to the commander of the incoming destroyer."

  "Sensible," Eckler said with a weary smile that failed to reach his eyes. "I suppose that's the difference in thinking between an officer who ferries VIPs within a star system and one who has been on the bridge of mainline warships in nearly every major engagement."

  "Your entire crew is alive and well, Captain," Jillian said carefully. "You'll hear no disparaging words from me regarding your command of this ship."

  Eckler stared at her a moment and then nodded his thanks.

  "Ensign Haan, please bring our beacon online, full power broadcast," he said. "And request a Link channel as well … I'll send the message over that unless they decline our request."

  "Aye, sir."

  "Incoming Link request from a Fleet intrasystem runabout that seems to be sitting on the surface of the fourth planet, sir."

  "Are the encryption countersigns valid?" Lieutenant Commander Accari asked from the Nemesis's command chair. Captain Wolfe had gone off watch and Commander Chambliss wanted to visit CIC to see what the progress was on sifting through all the lifeboat signals, so Accari was in charge for the time being.

  "Yes, sir," Lieutenant Hori said.

  "Accept the request and limit the stream to navigational sensor data until we know exactly who this is," Accari said.

  "Coming up now, sir."

  It was another hour and a half until all the handshakes had been accomplished and two-way data had been established before Accari could look and see if this was really a Fleet yacht or some sort of new Darshik tactic. It didn't take him long to skim through the incoming stream before he realized what he was looking at.

  "OPS, go ahead and put all our sensor data on the Link," he said. "Coms! Have Captain Wolfe paged to the bridge immediately."

  "Aye, sir."

  It was another fifteen minutes before a bleary-eyed Jackson Wolfe walked onto the bridge and affixed Accari with a flat, unfriendly stare.

  "We're not under fire, Lieutenant Commander, so I assume there was some other sort of emergency?"

  "We've had another transponder pop up in the system, Captain," Accari said, gesturing to the terminal on the command chair. "They've sent a message to us over the Link."

  Jackson approached and read the holographic display over Accari's shoulder. He seemed to deflate visibly when he realized that the message was from the yacht Jillian had been on and the captain of the small ship had just verified that the entire complement was alive and well on the surface of the planet.

  "Coms, make direct contact with the ship on the surface of that planet and get a full status update," he said, straightening. "I have the bridge, Mr. Accari … please call up your relief for Tactical and then go get some rest."

  "Yes, sir."

  Jackson read through the entire message again and could feel the tension he'd built up within him on the flight out drain away. Jillian was safe aboard the other ship and the Nemesis was now in the system in case the Specter returned. Under the circumstances, it was the best he could hope for. The more he read, however, the more he realized they might have a serious problem. The yacht was too damaged to lift off and, even if it could, the orbital lanes were clogged with debris from the massive habitat that was still breaking apart. His ship didn't carry the type of specialized recovery equipment that would allow them to get aid to the stricken yacht.

  "This is the closest I feel comfortable approaching, Captain," Commander Chambliss reported as Jackson walked onto the bridge.

  "This is fine, we're not a rescue ship so getting any closer doesn't help," Jackson said. He'd accepted Chambliss's request to take the bridge for the final approach to the planet and allowed himself seven hours of uninterrupted sleep, the first decent rest he'd had since he'd learned of the attack. Now the Nemesis was sitting in high orbit, well above all the debris, and he was wondering just what he hoped to accomplish.

  "Open a two-way channel with the downed yacht."

  "Stand by, sir," Lieutenant Makers said.

  "This is Captain Eckler of the FV George Mulland," a voice came back almost as soon as the channel request was sent.

  "Captain Eckler, this is Jackson Wolfe aboard the Nemesis," Jackson said. "How are you holding up, sir?"

  "We're banged up but otherwise alright for the moment, sir," Eckler said. "We are running short on consumables and have been on backup power for some weeks, however."

  "Stand by, Captain," Jackson said and gave Makers the chopping "mute" hand signal.

  "Channel muted, sir."

  "They can't sit on emergency power forever waiting on those rescue ships from DeLonges," Chambliss said. "I looked up that class while you were resting, sir. One more major component failure and they could lose part or all of their life support."

  "Does a yacht that size have lifeboats?" Jackson asked.

  "Just one … and it deploys from the belly."

  "So that's useless other than as a last resort if they lose backup power," Jackson said. "Open channel."

  "Go, sir."

  "Captain Eckler, what's the status of your lifeboat? Could it be used as a contingency plan if you lose backup power?" Jackson asked.

  "Negative, Captain Wolfe," Eckler said. "During the debris strikes we took, the launch cradle malfunctioned and three of the six clamps released. It pulled away from the hatch just enough so that we can't saf
ely open it."

  "Talk about bad luck," Jackson muttered before raising his voice. "Very well, Captain. We'll start looking at options on this end. The lifeboats from the habitat are all sending back strong vitals so I'm not too worried about them, but I'd rather not leave you in there until the rescue ships show up. I'll contact you again when we have something. Nemesis out."

  "Coms, have Commander Kelly from Flight OPS report to the bridge," Chambliss said. Jackson just nodded his approval. Kelly would be the one to determine if they could safely attempt an extraction of the crew from the stricken yacht.

  As it turned out, Commander Kelly didn't see all that much difficulty in pulling the crew off with the spacecraft they had aboard. "Seems pretty straightforward, Captain," he said as he studied the sensor data of where the yacht was sitting. "They managed to get themselves pretty far north so they're out of the line of fire from most of the incoming debris, which has significantly tapered off.

  "If you look here, and here"—he pointed to two spots on the display showing the planet—"you can see that the remaining chunks have all stabilized for the most part and none of them were knocked into polar orbits. We can take two of the new Lancer-class shuttles and drop right down into the northern polar region and fly right under most of the debris straight to the yacht."

  "Will all of that airborne particulate debris cause you any trouble?" Chambliss asked.

  "The MPDs won't care about the debris and the new sensors should be able to look through it just fine. If it looks like we're getting into real trouble I'll abort and haul ass back up into orbit. Shall I go ahead and begin prepping my crews, Captain?"

  "Do it," Jackson said after a moment of thought. "Keep me apprised of your progress and pull the plug if you feel that the risk is higher than you've initially thought."

  "Aye, sir," Kelly said, spinning on his heel and almost running off the bridge.

  "Commander Chambliss, your thoughts?" Jackson asked when everyone was out of earshot. Chambliss used to run Flight OPS aboard the Aludra Star and was no stranger to sending shuttles and crews into unfriendly skies.

  "I concur with Commander Kelly's assessment as well as your authorization of the mission," Chambliss said. "The newer Lancer-class ships are a lot more capable than the older Skipper-class, and the risk appears to be minimal."

  Jackson looked over at his XO for a long, uncomfortable moment before turning and walking back to the center of the bridge. He trusted Chambliss to tell him if he was risking too much because it was his family stuck down on the surface. If his Flight OPS department head and his Executive Officer were both onboard then he would assume for the time being that he hadn't been emotionally compromised by the situation.

  10

  "Nemesis, Ghost One … starting final descent now," Captain Marshal Webster said before releasing the transmit button on his throttle and pressing the one right below it for the shuttle’s intercom.

  "Stand by, pushing down now. There's almost no atmosphere so it'll be a smooth ride all the way to the objective."

  "I've heard that bullshit before."

  Marshal couldn't tell who had muttered over the hot mic so he opted to ignore it. The descent was one he'd trained for, but it was still tricky. They'd assumed a stationary polar orbit over the planet and would now begin a tight, spiraling descent to avoid all of the larger debris from the destroyed habitat. Flying past the larger pieces on the flight out from the ship had really driven home the scale of the atrocity. It made his heart race and he gripped the controls too tightly as he struggled to control his anger.

  "Ghost One, Nemesis … good luck."

  "Pushing over now," Marshal said to his copilot. He angled their nose down and to starboard, pushing up the throttles to intercept their decent vector. The airborne particulate near the lower altitudes wasn't nearly as heavy as Flight OPS had said it would be, but he stuck to the plan and remained on an instrument approach rather than switch to visual. The plasma engines were oblivious to the crap hanging in the air, but they consumed propellant at a prodigious rate so they'd have to get down and get back into orbit as quickly as they could. Normally the electric turbines would be used once the shuttle was within a planet's atmosphere, but the atmospheric density of the planet was too low for them to operate and all the crap suspended in the air would likely foul them out.

  "Objective is coming up. I've got a strong rendezvous beacon," the copilot said.

  "Confirmed, I see the marker lights now," Marshal said. "We'll swing around so we're facing with our nose pointed out along their prow and then switch to thrusters."

  "Roger."

  The plan agreed upon by Flight OPS, Captain Wolfe, and the crew of the stranded yacht had been to land the shuttles right on the ventral hull of the smaller ship. The Lancer-class had short docking cofferdams that could be extended from the shuttle's belly for quick transfers, eliminating the need to enter the hangar bay and maneuver into berth. The cofferdam collars could interface to any standard Fleet hatch, so things should go off without a hitch.

  "There she is, switching over," Marshal said. There was a sickening drop as he pulled the MPDs to idle and the weight of the shuttle was taken up by the eight ventral thrusters. The ionic jets shook the small ship violently as Marshal used his helmet's 360-degree sensor capability to look down through the hull and line up his approach.

  "Ten meters … five … two … touchdown, cut thrust," the copilot said as the landing struts scraped against the upper hull of the yacht.

  "Extend the docking collar," Marshal said.

  "Extending … we have soft dock," the copilot said. A moment later there was a sharp clang. "There we go, hard dock."

  "George Mulland, Ghost One," Marshal said. "We have confirmed hard dock on your ventral hatch. Go ahead and pump up the tunnel from your end and we can begin transferring your crew. I have room for sixteen and then Ghost Two will be along to get the rest of you."

  "Copy Ghost One," a voice came back. "Stand by."

  Marshal concentrated on minute lateral thruster adjustments to keep the shuttle centered so that the weight of the craft didn't put any strain on the flexible cofferdam. He could hear his crew chief opening their belly hatch and welcoming the crew of the yacht aboard while directing them to their seats. Five minutes later he heard the hatch bang shut and he saw on his status panel that the pressure was being released from the docking tunnel by the yacht's crew.

  "We're all aboard, pilot," a woman in a Fleet-issue emergency pressure suit said. She had her helmet off so he could see that she was very attractive and didn't seem to be military.

  "I'm Captain Marshal Webster, miss," he began hopefully. "We'll be ascending momentarily and get you settled into temporary billeting."

  "Pleased to meet you, Captain," she said. "I'm Jillian Wolfe … I'm hoping my husband won't be inclined to stick me in visiting officers’ quarters. We're ready to go when you are."

  Marshal was glad for his flight helmet so that nobody could see his flaming red cheeks.

  "Retract the docking collar and stand by for ascent," he said over the intercom.

  "Collar retracted and locked," the copilot said. "You sure you don't want to try to hit on the old man's wife again before we break for orbit?"

  "Shut the fuck up," Marshal growled. He could actually hear his copilot laughing in his helmet as he maneuvered them away from the yacht and reengaged the MPDs. He was just happy that he hadn't said anything that could be misconstrued as inappropriate to the captain's wife. That wouldn't have done much for his career advancement prospects.

  "Stand by for main burn," he said over the shuttle's intercom and pushed the throttles up smoothly, sending them streaking up into the northern sky.

  "Permission to come aboa—" was all Jillian got out before Jackson pulled her the rest of the way through the airlock and wrapped her up in a fierce embrace. The shock of the action was written all over her face. Captain Wolfe very rarely let any cracks show through his stoic professionalism.

&
nbsp; "Granted," he said after releasing her and pushing her back so he could look her over.

  "No injuries, just dirty, tired, and hungry," she assured him. "The water reclamation system was on its last leg when you showed up. What's the Nemesis doing here anyway? I heard your mission was scrubbed."

  "Admiral Pitt sent us here to do a preliminary recon of the system," Jackson said. "She's a lot faster than any of the recovery ships. Beyond that official reason I think he suspected I was going to come out here regardless of orders."

  "Captain, I'll handle the rest of the incoming," Lieutenant Commander Hawkins said. "I'm not needed in CIC right now and you've certainly got better things to do."

  "Thank you, Mr. Hawkins," Jackson said with a tight smile. "Please have the yacht's crew taken to billeting so they have a chance to clean up and get something to eat. Tell Captain Eckler we'll debrief him once he's had a chance to rest."

  "Aye, sir."

  Jackson gestured to his wife with his head and led her out of the hangar bay, pausing to look out the porthole to see the second shuttle just maneuvering in through the outer doors and turning to line up on its docking cradle and airlock. Jillian took off with long, confident strides and Jackson had to remind himself that she'd likely spent more time aboard a Valkyrie-class destroyer than he had. She'd overseen the development of most of the crew training programs that they'd all gone through at an accelerated pace.

  The crew stopped and stood at attention respectfully as the pair (trailed loosely by Sergeant Barton) passed. The very few that were still serving with him since the Blue Jacket or the Ares stood and gawked as their old OPS Officer—and later XO—walked past covered in grime.

  Once they arrived at Jackson's quarters, Barton posted up in his usual spot and managed to keep a straight face until they'd entered and closed the hatch behind them.