“You're making some insightful observations so far, exec. What do you propose we do about these issues,” Stokes asked. He was curious what kind of man Bendel was, and knew the answers to the challenges facing them would give him some insight.
“I'd like to extend the standard working day by four hours, sir. I know it's going to cause some morale problems, but without the background expertise, we have to build proficiency among the crew. The academy is already on a twelve hour per day six day per week schedule. Officers are being graduated with only the most basic skills. The enlisted training program has been shortened from twelve weeks to nine as well.” Bendel shook his head. “What we need is another year to get our space force ready, and we don't have it. The only thing we can do is get our people as ready as we can to give them the best chance of surviving.”
Stokes approved of the strategy Bendel had come up with. The lower morale could be assuaged by a brief period of rest and relaxation before the crabs actually arrived. Building the instinctual understanding of the new ships and their capabilities was of paramount importance. “I approve the extension of working hours, exec. Put out a notice and begin working the new schedule first thing next week.”
“Aye, sir,” Bendel said.
Stokes said, “There is something else. Admiral Coffee has given us a chore, and I would like your input on how to carry it out. He wants the alliance ships held here for as long as possible. Do you have any ideas on how to accomplish our orders?”
“The alliance has made two demands of us. First to return their ship and second to provide members of the expeditionary force for their justice system to try and punish. The ship can be delayed somewhat, but the key to keeping them where they are is to provide a lengthy and cumbersome investigation. I suggest we invite them to observe and perhaps even participate in our investigation into the expeditionary force survivors as they have requested. If they're serious about wanting one or more people to punish, they can't refuse to cooperate with our investigation.”
“Excellent thinking, exec,” Stokes said. “I think we can bring an envoy from the alliance in and tie them up for at least a few days, if not for weeks with that strategy.”
“We aren't actually considering handing anyone over to the alliance, are we, Sir?” Bendel said.
“Of course not. This is simply a delaying strategy to give the shipyards time enough to build our fleet strength up.” Stokes filled Bendel in on the time frames outlined in Coffee's message.
Bendel whistles softly between his teeth. “So we might be fighting the crab fleet in as little as two months. That's not enough time to even get the next class of candidates out of the academy.”
“True, but if our longer assumptions are correct, we have a good chance of graduating at least the current class.”
“How many candidates have we recruited for the current enrollment?”
“Roughly eleven thousand. More than sixty percent of them are from the Karn region.”
“Wow. That's going to change a lot of the makeup within the Navy.”
“Possibly. I'm more hopeful that it provides the separatists with an incentive to put down their grievances.”
“You were at the bombing, weren't you, sir?”
“I was.”
“What was that like?” Bendel had a mixed look of curiosity and horror on his face. Stokes managed, with effort, not to chuckle. “Well, honestly, I don't remember it too well. There was a tremendous noise and then I remember just choking on a lot of dust and trying to resuscitate Admiral Blackwood.”
“Did we ever find out who carried out the bombing?”
“Well, the details of the investigation are still classified, but I can tell you that we know who carried out the actual bombing. The bomber's motivations are still being investigated.”
Bendel's expression clearly showed how much he wanted to know who the bomber was, but he didn't give in to his curiosity. Instead, he said, “Well, I'm glad we got them, sir.” Bendel fell silent for a moment and watched as Stokes' eyes grew distant. Bendel continued, “I'm sure you tried your best to save Admiral Blackwood, sir.”
Stokes focused on his executive officer again and said, “Sorry, Mister Bendel.” He shook his head. “It's a difficult thing to hold someone as they die. I've had to do it far too often in my career.” Stokes gave his head a shake. “Sometimes, the price for wearing the uniform can be high. Sometimes... too high.” Stokes' thoughts drifted to Hanlon. He hoped she was alive, somewhere. If there was any fairness in the universe at all, she'd be alive.
Bendel sat silently, unsure of what to say. He didn't know if Stokes wanted a response to his statement or not. He decided to respond directly to what Stokes had said, “We all know what we're signing up for when we volunteer, sir. None of us are uncertain of what the price can be.”
“I expect we do.” Stokes rubbed his hands in front of him briskly before saying, “I'll begin a proposal to Admiral Misato. Report back to the bridge.”
“Aye, sir,” Bendel said.
Stokes worked for a few moments at his computer and then transmitted a comm request for Misato.
It took Misato nearly ten minutes to respond to the comm request. When his face did appear, he looked harried. “What can I do for you, Franklin?”
“Sir, I have a plan to hold the alliance ships here. We're going to give them the investigation they want. Since I'm trying to buy time, I can only guess how long I can hold them up, but I'll do my best to keep them on the hook for as long as possible. I can't make any promises. They're already pretty impatient with us.”
“Do your best. I'll back your decisions. Misato out.” The screen went back to the communications standby logo.
The alliance ships allowed themselves to be stalled for over two weeks while Stokes brought out delay after delay. In the end, the alliance ships left, repeating their promise to entice the crab fleet into moving against Lashmere. The following week was tense as naval leadership watched the crab fleet like a hawk, uncertain of where they would turn. The time was filled with the Lashmere shipyard straining as hard as it could to produce ships and materials for system defense as fast as possible. Ships were flowing out of the manufacturing rings at a pace far outstripping the number of fully trained personnel to provide crews. Ships were moved into holding orbits while officers and enlisted men and women were trained at a pace that made ship production look positively leisurely by comparison.
The Victorious returned to space dock several days after the alliance squadron left for Xalcek. The morning after returning, Stokes was sitting in his office when his door chime sounded.
“Come in,” he said. The door slid open and admitted Marli Simmons. “What can I do for you, Commander?” he asked.
“Sir, I apologize for interrupting your routine. I wanted to present a proposal for you to forward to the board of admirals.”
Stokes put the task he was working on aside and gave Simmons his full attention. “Go ahead, Commander.”
Simmons tapped at her tablet for a moment to activate the screen across from Stokes' desk. The screen showed a group of locations along the spiral arm where Lashmere was located. “Sir, the highlighted locations are advanced research facilities operated by the Terran Empire.” She tapped her tablet again, causing some of the highlighted locations to take on additional brackets. “These locations are where advanced medical research was being conducted to find a cure for the alliance virus. I'd like to mount an expedition to these locations. If we keep the group small, we can make the entire circuit in about eight months.” She paused and looked at Stokes expectantly.
“You'll be happy to know that I've forwarded your proposal to the board of admirals already. We decided to table a decision until after we know what the crabs do. Without more certainty of what's coming, I can't endorse your proposal.”
“Two research ships and two destroyers can't possibly make a difference against all those crab ships, sir,” Simmons responded. Her voice took on a slightly plaintive
note. “The crabs have almost two thousand ships. Four of ours won't make a difference at all.”
“Actually, our analysis indicates you may be wrong, Miss Simmons,” Stokes said. “Two of our destroyers are roughly the equivalent to eight to ten of their escorts. This is an appreciable loss of offensive and defensive force for us. The research ships are equivalent to another four or five escorts in a broad engagement. Our simulations indicate the crabs will likely bring everything they have to our doorstep once the alliance turns them this way. Once the crab threat is dealt with, I will happily endorse your pan to recover any information about the virus.”
“What if the alliance sets the virus on us in response to us beating the crabs, sir? Can we afford to not have information about it?”
“I appreciate your argument, Miss Simmons, but the current decision is final. Send me a copy of your complete proposal, and I'll add it to what I've already put before the board of admirals.”
Simmons fought to contain her disappointment at Stokes' decision. “I will, sir. Thank you again for your time.”
“My pleasure, Miss Simmons. I appreciate your passion for this subject, and I agree that the virus could well represent a serious threat. I'm not discounting it. We just can't afford to weaken our forces by even the tiniest sliver right now.”
“I understand, sir. Thank you, again.” Simmons stood and left the admiral's office.
Simmons returned to her ship, recently named the Loki. “I have to come up with another way, obviously,” she muttered to herself. She'd hoped Stokes would champion her proposal to the rest of the admirals. Instead, he'd obstructed it and dismissed her serious concerns out of hand. While the crabs were the obvious and overt threat, they were a pale shadow compared to the weapon designed to destroy humanity as a whole.
It didn't matter to her that the admiral outranked her. She'd learned in the past few months to act in a way that made Stokes and other senior officers comfortable, but it didn't change how little military ranks meant to her. She knew her intellect vastly outstripped more than ninety-nine percent of the humans on Lashmere. She knew far more and far better than Stokes, or any of the other admirals could possibly know.
The only way to accomplish her goals of getting the medical research she wanted so badly, both for the virus research and, even more importantly to her, the longevity research, was to take the choice from the admirals and place it in her own hands. She would need a way of departing the system with a ship capable of carrying out the mission and that she was capable of operating alone. Fortunately, Loki was such a ship. The next part of her plan hinged on convincing everyone else to leave the ship. She pondered the situation for a long while until the framework of a solid plan began to form in her mind.
By the next morning, she'd worked out the details of her plan. She took extra care to keep her ideas to herself, completing the programming and simulations on an independent computer that had no connection to the ship. She knew she had a workable plan and would be able to complete her goals without further obstruction. The only variable for her now was the time she chose to act.
Six weeks later, the sensor net gave the admirals good news. The crab fleet had begun moving towards Xalcek. Each day the crabs moved towards Xalcek would take them nearly an additional day to return towards Lashmere.
The following morning, Stokes met up with Kri, Patho and Erickson on the observation deck overlooking the space dock.
Stokes greeted the other officers, having arrived a few minutes early. “Captain Erickson, Commander Kri, and Commander Patho, I've invited you here for a few important words. First and foremost, I'm happy to announce that you, Mister Patho have been bumped to Captain in rank. You're being placed in command of half the stealth corvette fleet. Your second in command is someone you already know. Commander Fuchs will be second in overall command with fifteen of the stealth corvettes nominally under his control, but all thirty are within your command structure. Next up is the news that Mister Kri has been placed in command of the assault cruiser Damocles.”
Stokes paused while the two men digested the news. He then said, “I believe you've both met Captain Erickson?” Both men nodded in agreement, and Stokes continued, “Miss Erickson has been promoted to Commodore and placed in command of the Behemoth. We've gained half the time we need to complete our fleet and gain the ability to defend ourselves against the crabs. In light of this fact, I wanted to gather the three of you together. You represent three of the most experienced officers against the crabs. In light of this, I want to fold you into my command structure from the Victorious. When the fight comes here, I need you all to be on the same page. All three of you have separate and complementary strengths.
“Mister Patho, you excel at using small, fast and lightly armed and armored units to deadly effect. Mister Kri, you have a strong ability to find ways of bending the odds in your favor, frequently with outside the box thinking. Miss Erickson, you've repeatedly shown you have a cool and calm head for command level decisions. I want you to consider yourself my second in command if and when the battle comes here. We have a planning session scheduled first thing next week. Most of the newly appointed captains will be there. I want to make sure you three know where you are in the overall command structure. We're still almost three months from our first crop of accelerated academy graduates, and they'll be as new to this as you three are to independent command. With luck, the crabs will give us the time we need. Are there any questions or comments?”
Patho was grinning from ear to ear. “I can't believe I'm getting the stealth fleet. I was reading the specs and those ships are incredible.”
Kri smiled broadly and said, “My own ship? That's great. An assault cruiser, too. Oh no, what am I going to do with all those marines, sir?” He chuckled to himself, relishing the opportunity to put his own stamp on a crew of newly graduated officers and crew.
“When will the Behemoth be ready, sir?” Erickson asked.
“Three more weeks. She's being built down at berth five. You can see her from here, half done.” The quartet of officers looked out the observation window and saw a massive structure pointed out of the space dock. They were interrupted by a chime from Stokes' comm. He tapped at the device and said, “Stokes.”
The tinny voice that came out said, “Sir, this is Lieutenant Jacoby at headquarters. Admiral Coffee wants you to report immediately.”
“Very well. Inform the admiral I'm on my way down from space dock.”
“Aye, sir.” The comm beeped to signal the close of the communication channel.
“That can't be good news,” Patho observed.
Stokes had a worried look on his face. “I expect not. I can only think of one thing that would cause a call like that. The crabs must be moving towards us. Go to your commands and start planning for the crab attack. Assume they've turned towards us in the last day and are making their best speed here.”
The officers went their separate ways without further discussion. All of them carrying knots of fear in their stomachs.
Stokes arrived at headquarters, still pondering the implications of the call. He was hustled into a conference room, joining Admirals Coffee, Brand, and Misato. All three had faces that were quite grim.
“What's going on?” Stokes asked.
“It's not as bad as it could be, but it's pretty bad. Half the crab fleet has turned and begun heading towards us at their highest speed. We have six weeks.”
“What about the other half?”
“Still on their way to Xalcek. We're not sure if the crabs moving towards us is a response to the alliance's threat to force them to attack us or if they've made the change based on some other factor.”
Brand said, “Is half the crab force enough to destroy the Xalcek system?”
Misato said, “It's unclear. It may be enough. In fact, if our long range sensor net is correct, it's more than enough. Despite their claims to have some secret defense, it looks like the Xalcek system is roughly as well defended as their forwa
rd base was. The crabs took only minimal losses clearing that system of alliance ships.
“My team has been running simulations and projections almost continuously as the situation has developed. Based on the more pessimistic assumptions about crab capabilities, there is a seventy percent chance they can get here before we have overwhelming force against a thousand of their ships. We'll have only about two thirds of our ships fully manned, and the only classes of ships that will be complete are the stealth corvettes and the destroyers. Less than half the cruisers will be complete.”
Stokes said, “The first behemoth will be complete,” Stokes observed. “It represents a massive offensive force the crabs can't afford to ignore. That ship alone can defend half the system.”
“Tough as the Behemoth design is, it's not invulnerable. Sufficient concentration of fire can destroy it,” Misato said. He looked around the room for a long, silent moment. “Simulations have shown that as few as six crab battleships, properly employed, can punch through the armor and inflict significant internal damage.”
Brand couldn't keep the shock out of his voice when he said, “Six? Surely the behemoth is more than a match for five times that number.”
Coffee chose that moment to take control of the meeting. “Gentlemen, keep your focus. Admiral Misato is in charge of providing worst case scenarios and then he has to find ways to prevent them happening.” Coffee nodded at the sudden silence in the room. “Mister Brand, what's our estimated completion as of nine weeks from today?”
“Completed hulls or fully manned ships?”
“Fully manned ships.”
“We'll be at just under forty percent of our target number. More than half that will have less than a week's training time with their new ships.”
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